“Two sips from the cup of human kindness and I'm shitfaced. Just laid to waste.” The New Pornographers
Have you ever not done something you really, really love for like four or five years? I can't believe it's been that long since I went to a concert. In my early thirties, I got this ludicrous idea (that's the word Amy keeps using, and she's totally right.) that I'm an old married lady who won't fit in at rock shows. Which really doesn't make sense because a lot of the bands I love could be genre-ed as Music for 35- Year-Olds (Also! Pleasant Rock) Amy says I should resolve to do more of the things I would've done at 25. She's right but I also think maybe she wouldn't have liked me at 25.
Dear The New Pornographers at the Trocadero, June 21, 2010,
I love you so much. I love claiming my spot in the middle of the crowd. I love your combination of lights, the thrill of recognition when the first notes hit, the whoop that goes up in the crowd. I love the early adopters of hand-clapping. I love doing the Awkward Indie Rock Dance and trying not to elbow the people around me. I love pretending that “My Shepherd” is really about Lost. I love Neko Case's messy red hair and microphone-fussing, Kathryn's pretty blouse. I love their faces when they sing and when they listen to each other. I love the way the harmonies hit my body's reset button, so I almost wake up with new cells. I love almost keeling over and I love the taste of four dollar Vitamin Water on my tongue. I love that Amy loves me enough to stand in line for water while I save our spot. I love an epiphany every other song. I love banter. I love how my feet hurt at the end. I love the swell of the crowd's voices during the “hey la-s” I love holding onto the strap of Amy's shoulder bag so I don't lose her on the way out. I love when a car passes us near the fountain with Together floating out of its speakers.
Thanks for the reunion with myself, rock show! Next month's #1 resolution will be Music, Music, Music, Music, Music!