A Little More Screen-Free Time

Time for a little more time away from the glow of the monitor. Last weekend's foray into fewer screen hours helped with the headaches, so I'm aiming for that again. I'm sure I'll have something to write at some point, but until then, enjoy some more good music.

First up - a killer, killer, killer performance of a beautiful - and beautifully crafted - song:



Amazingly, I had never seen the following video until this week. It's from 1986. I was living in the UK at the time (where I bought my first Crowded House single, which still has the HMV price tag on it) and I didn't have access to MTV then:



One of the little delights in that video is the appearance of Neil Finn's wee little kiddo, Liam ("introducing Liam"), a musician in his own right now, and a hirsute one at that:

400% hairier than his toddler self!

And, now, two gems from another of my favorite singer-songwriters, Michael Penn. This first one is, unsurprisingly, the tune that made me a Michael Penn fan in the first place. It's a good entry point into MP's sepia-toned world:



But that radio-friendly tune is just the tip of the iceberg, kids. Go listen to his other music. This next one is off "Resigned" - one of my absolute favorite MP releases. The video for the song which you can see here was directed by Paul Thomas Anderson. (You can find it as an extra on the "Boogie Nights" DVD - you'll see Phillip Seymour Hoffman pop up in the video!) It's one continuous tracking shot in one of the world's longest hallways, in a courthouse in L.A. Sadly, the video is locked from embedding in blogs. Here, however, is a live performance of this cool tune:



Okay, time to wander away from the keyboard. Housecleaning and some Ex Machina reading awaits...

Enjoy Memorial Day, folks. Between showings of Indiana Jones and BBQs, please take a moment to remember the meaning of the day.

Remember them well, those who have died for us.

Today, I am a Loungeroom Lizard

Oy, my eyelids are drooping. I fear I do look a little reptilian today. Do I ever need some jet fuel coffee right now. Good thing I'm in a coffee shop!

So, when I last wrote, I was a ball of emotion - anxiety, excitement, fear (of cars), breathless anticipation. Let me catch you up...

Friday was a very good day, indeed.

First, the attorney meeting went really well. We spent an hour together. I gave him the two-minute Reader's Digest condensed version of the past three years of my life, so he knew just how utterly messed up things had become before I got rammed last September. This guy was cool, confident, funny, and made me feel very secure about how he'll handle my case. Well, cases. A separate file for each of the two accidents. I no longer have to talk to the insurance companies. All he wants me to do is to concentrate on is therapy and getting better. Awesomeness.

I left his office feeling better than I have in quite some time. All the anxiety of Thursday seemed to vanish as I drove home, listening to Crowded House with the windows down on a gorgeous 80-degree day. I curled up for a quick nap at home -- I wanted to be rested before heading downtown to meet up with the Sasquatch for the concert. I blinked - barely felt like I'd slept at all - and suddenly it was 4 in the afternoon. I put two of those huge sticky arthritis pain patches on my back, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, and, for the first time in months, even put on some makeup. This was a special occasion, after all.

The drive downtown should have been easier, but you would have thought it was morning rush hour with all the cars jamming the roads into DC. I had told the Sasquatch I would meet him at 5:30, so we could bolt over to the 9:30 Club and he could get in line in the hopes of snagging a bar stool up in the balcony (one was already set aside for me and my bad back, thank god.) I felt bad that I was only able to pick him up at 5:45 or so, pretty much shooting down the chance at a stool for him. Some of my anxiety had returned during the drive into the city - mostly because I was, superstitiously, afraid my car accident/concert big bad voodoo karma was going to kick in. You can ask the Squatch-man - I was a bit of a biyotch behind the wheel. (And I apologize to my tall arboreal friend for being an uptight tool in the car!!) My mood lightened when a spiffy Mercedes convertible pulled up alongside us in traffic with "Nobody Wants To" pouring out the speakers. I knew the driver was headed the same place we were. One of the tribe, headed to Mecca, to hear the words and music and, for a few fleeting hours, be part of something bigger, something wonderful.

When we got to 9:30, the line was already halfway down the block -- I'd read online that some folks were planning on lining up at 4:30, so the truth is, we likely wouldn't have been much closer to the front, even if I'd been on-time to rescue my friend from the corner of 18th & Penn. Sadly, the Sasquatch didn't get a stool, but he was a real trouper all night, standing next to my fidgety self, legs too short to really be comfy on a bar stool.

We had good company for the gig, snuggled up to the bar. Just below us, the Australian Embassy had rented out the other balcony tier, and the Aussies rocked out all night. Just behind me was a couple from New Zealand. Her parents had just flown in Christchurch in the morning, and their jetlagged selves were tasked with watching the kiddies while mum and dad saw Crowded House. (Apparently grandmum and granddad were cool with being abandoned on Day One, as they are Split Enz fans who had just gone to one of the New Zealand dates on the Enz tour just a few weeks ago. Cool family!) The folks to my right happened to be a Frenz forum member and his lovely wife. They're Maryland folks, too, and turns out he'd been here to the blog and had contacted his state senator about the cell phone legislation! I thought that was really amazing. (And if you happen to be dropping by, Above the Kitchen, thanks again for that! And thanks, too, for the good conversation - it was a pleasure indeed to meet you guys last night! Always nice to meet another Prefab Sprout fan, too!) To the Sasquatch's left was a huge Dolby fan. Small musical world, eh?

Now, what shall I say about the concert? Something I've waited 2+ decades to experience?

It was pretty brilliant. Really wonderful. Fan-freaking-tastic. Everything I could have asked for or hoped for in seeing one of my favorite bands ever.

I have to sing the praises of Don McGlashan, who was not only the opening act, but also the de facto fifth member of Crowded House last night, joining the guys on several numbers. If you're not familiar with this excellent Kiwi singer-songwriter, it's worth your time to investigate both his solo work and his work with the now defunct (but awfully good) band The Mutton Birds. The man is multi-talented, and over the course of the evening, he played the euphonium, guitar, pocket trumpet, ukulele, and a toy piano (which was hilarious.)

Most of the audience didn't give McGlashan his due - the chatter level never really eased up to let his tunes filter through. But some of the audience was grooving on it. Since this gig was also part of my Concert Trifecta 40th b-day gift for the Sasquatch, I was really excited that McGlashan played a Mutton Birds song my friend really loves, "A Thing Well Made." I think that made his night.

Crowded House made my night. The audience loved them, and the band showered us with love in return. They played for more than two hours - old songs, new songs, sing-a-longs, call and response, with the sound of 1200 happy people answering Neil's voice from the stage. There's something so wonderful in seeing the man who wrote these songs standing there, eyes closed, smiling away at us carrying his tune. It's not just a concert, it's a fairly transcendent experience.

Now, if you're going to see the Crowdies on this tour and you don't want to know last night's set list, close your eyes and page down a little bit (that's mostly for you, Aoife O'Meara!!) They played for almost 2 1/2 hours and played songs very old, very new (as in, unrecorded as of yet), and some songs utterly obscure - what Neil dubbed a visit to "Obscurity Corner":

Everything Is Good For You
World Where You Live
Isolation (new song)
Turn It Around (new song)
Distant Sun
Whispers & Moans
Nails in my Feet
789 (new song)
Either Side of the World (new song)
English Trees
Don't Dream It's Over
Four Seasons in One Day
Twice if You're Lucky (new song)
Weather With You

First Encore:
Locked Out
Private Universe
Into Temptation
Something So Strong
Washington Monument song (goofy, improvised on the spot)

Second Encore:
Pineapple Head
Mansion in the Slums (first time they performed it in 20 years)
She Goes On
Better Be Home Soon

They have such an amazing array of songs they could have played. This was a pretty damn fine setlist in my estimation. The song "Pineapple Head" makes me want to dance and spin around (a little tough on a bar stool in the balcony, but I danced in my head.) And finishing up with "Better Be Home Soon" couldn't have made me happier - Neil sang for us, and we sang for Neil. It was a lovely way to wrap up. The Sasquatch said he'd like to be as good at something as Neil is at making music. (Wouldn't we all???) El Squatchito also noted that, with all the songs he has in his repertoire, Neil doesn't use lyric cheat sheets or a teleprompter as many performers do with such a large catalog of work to recall. Songs from Split Enz, songs from Crowded House, from the Finn Brothers, from his own solo work -- Neil has them all in his head. So, even when he flubs a line here and there (and laughs about it), it's still remarkable that his cranium can call up so many words, so many lines of notes, at a moment's notice. Pretty astounding.

What made the concert all the better? I saw Crowded House with one of the best friends I will ever have in my life. Ever. Ever. And just before the music started, he excused himself for a minute and returned with a surprise. He put a big, cool Crowded House coffee mug down in front of me and said, "THIS is from Aoife O'Meara. And THIS is from me." With that, he handed me on of the fantastic live concert CDs from the Crowdies tour I missed last year, this particular recording being the Winnipeg concert. Once again, I was dumbfounded by the lovely, meaningful generosity of my friends. I love you guys - thank you so much for making a really wonderful evening even more wonderful.

I left on Cloud Nine. I didn't even stop to try to meet the band (although I understand they stayed and talked to a group of 20 or so fans for a while last night.) The night was great, and I was - remarkably for me - bereft of anything to say. (My voice was also shot to hell and gone from singing along and offering up my war whoops between songs.) It was good enough to have just been there.

So, since I didn't stop to say it last night, thank you Neil. Thank you Nick. Thank you Mark and Matt. Thanks for making my year. I hope you come back soon.

I'm sitting in the coffee shop now, done with back cracking physical therapy for the day, listening to the Winnipeg CDs on my headphones, still trying to wake up at 1-something in the afternoon.

One more day to recover before work begins again on Monday.

Did I mention, there will be a major blast from the past coming to my place of employment this coming Wednesday night? The final element of the Sasquatch 40th Birthday Concert Trifecta. A serious trip down Nostalgia Boulevard for children of the 1970s and 80s. I'm not naming names, but I'm hoping she'll be taking us to Xanadu. {{insert cheesy grin here}} One of the strangest, yet coolest perks of my job yet!

Things have been rough, guys, no joke. But now, maybe - just maybe - things are looking up. Sometimes when things are tough, I hear a Crowded House line in my head and I remember:

Love this life/Don't wait 'til the next one comes!

It's a very good thought, no?

I'm trying hard to love this life. And right now, this life needs a very large cup of coffee.

Pain, anxiety, and the end of a 22-year wait

My back is on fire tonight - the pain is so bad, it's making my guts churn. I'm hoping a hot midnight shower will ease the pain a bit so I can get some sleep. Real rest has been fleeting for days, and I know it affects my concentration. Today, I had to really work to stay focused.

I'm incredibly anxious tonight. Tomorrow, I go to see an attorney about the accidents. I hope he can help me because I lose even more sleep worrying about what will happen if I am trapped in paying (or in my case, not being able to pay) out of pocket in advance of any settlement.

I hope to leave that meeting with a greater sense of ease and a little lighter of heart.

Because I have plans.

Tomorrow night, I finally get to experience something for which I've waited 22 years: Crowded House in concert. 22 years - almost virtually half my life. I can't explain how much this means to me. If you were reading this blog last summer, you might remember how crushed I was to miss the guys when they played in Philadelphia. This time, though, they're playing DC. In a club that only holds a little over a thousand people. It will be beautiful. And I get to share it with a very dear friend, which makes it even better.

I'm sad I never got to see the band when Paul Hester was still with the group, before his tragic suicide. But, like Paul's deeply missed mercurial self, that chance is gone with time. For those who don't follow Crowded House, Paul left the group while they were on tour in 1994. He up and left them in Atlanta. A handful of years later, Hester had a show on Australian TV called "Hessie's Shed" - I found this wonderful bit of footage on YouTube today:

Highlights for me:

"Just a general apology for leaving you guys in Atlanta..."

"What the fuck went wrong?"

"There, that sound right, Paul?!?"
"Violence is universal..."

That made me laugh and smile and feel a little sad, too, all at once. Paul won't be there tomorrow night, but I think much of the music is infused - in a positive way - with his spirit (and, with "Time On Earth" a bit of his ghost, too.)

Crowded House music brings me a great deal of joy. Whenever I sign a sympathy card these days I write the same thing for everyone: "I hope, in this time of grief, there is also time to celebrate the joy of a good life, well-lived." In the joy of the music that Neil and Nick and Mark and Matt will play tomorrow night, for me, there will also be a celebration of a good life.

And I will listen to the music, and my smile will be big enough to crack my face, and I will forget about the problems of the day. I'll say it again and again: Neil Finn could sing me the phonebook, and I'd be enthralled.

Cloud Nine. It's a lovely place.

I hope you are able to find these moments in your life, too.

More things coming up over the next week - things interesting, bizarre, and nostalgic. Stories forthcoming. Maybe a photo or two, as well, if I'm lucky!

Before I sign off for the night, here's a little more for you. First, a little gem from the past. I'm glad to see that Australian girls were feather-haired victims of 80s fashion, too. One of the audience members is even wearing an Esprit sweatshirt. Ah, memories!



And, now, the present - and the future. Here's Wednesday night in New York City, Crowded House and the PS22 Chorus. A hopeful sound, indeed:

Falling down on the job

I know, there hasn't much here in recent weeks. Hard to keep people interested in a blog when there's no new content. I thank those of you who continue to check in!

Truth is, I'm working on a writing assignment that's keeping me pretty busy and focused off-line these days. This particular assignment has to be finished by the end of April, so you'll see more of me after this month. I hope to be able to tell you about said assignment a bit later this year.

In doing research for this item, I've read a lot of old newspaper articles from the 1940s, including columns by the Rush Limbaugh/Sean Hannity/Bill O'Reilly of the day, Drew Pearson. American University holds the archives for his syndicated column and radio show, the Washington Merry-Go-Round. In reading one column, I came across this incredibly offensive point:

"Dynamic Ed Stettinius, handsome Undersecretary of State, has just chalked up another victory in revamping the U.S. machinery of foreign affairs. Soon after Ed entered the placid, staid old Department of State, he succeeded in banishing the Negro messengers from tables outside the doors of prominent officials, relegating them to the men's lavatory. Afterward, Ed tackled another problem--State Department floors..."

So, let me get this straight... the man who would succeed Cordell Hull as Secretary of State under Roosevelt and Truman, help found the UN, and was a longtime friend of Liberian President William Tubman, moved the "Negro" messengers from the doorways of officials to the toilets at the State Department?!?

I need to research this. I don't necessarily trust Drew Pearson's columns because of the crap he wrote about the group my mom flew with in WWII. He helped whip up a misogynistic frenzy to bring around their downfall. That's unfortunate because Pearson was one of the few journalists who would later voice outrage at the evils of McCarthyism. (And McCarthy famously slapped or kneed Pearson in the groin in a public venue during that ugly period of our history.)

I hope this is another piece of BS, but now I want to know more. If it's true, it's another shameful piece of our historic puzzle. If it isn't, it's a mark against Pearson for wartime yellow journalism.

Either way, it distresses me. Move the black guys to the crapper. Yeah, that works.

Lovely.

------------------

I'll post as often as I can over the next three weeks, folks, but things will be a little thin this month.

Meanwhile, on a more pleasant point, enjoy this video from Crowded House - who, after 20+ years, I finally get to see in May. I am smiling an almost painful Cheshire Cat grin as I write this:



There is something very sweet and sad about this video, which contrasts such visual innocence with lyrics about Paul Heaton's suicide. Personally - and somehow appropriately for Paul - my favorite kid is the guy on the right going nuts on the conga. He makes me smile.

DC peeps: Crowded House is playing the 9:30 Club on May 2. Tickets are $45. It will be SO worth it!

An Act of Simple Devotion

Certainly, there are more important things in this world. War, death, taxes, a good job, a roof over your head.

Certainly there are.

Absolutely there are.

But while I can be as practical as I need to be - and lord knows being skint means having to be ingeniously practical - there is part of me that is hopelessly devoted to music. My music. The music that keeps me mentally afloat at the hardest of times.

It will sound foolish to some, surely, but I'm so tremendously disappointed that I won't be hearing Crowded House play in Philadelphia tonight, I could cry. Go ahead, roll your eyes, but it's true. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Neil Finn could make me swoon and sigh just singing pages from the phone book.

I've seen Neil solo a couple of times, and it's been fantastic. Not only is the music beautiful, full of hooks and anchored with lyrics that Paul McCartney *wishes* he'd written, but the Finn man has such a lovely rapport with his audience. He loves letting them sing along - he gets this almost rapturous smile on his face as his fans echo back his own words and music. It's a really lovely thing. You get the impression that Neil is one of those people you'd like to just hang out with in a coffee shop, talking about whatever, and he'd treat you decently and appreciate you - not just tolerate you like many pop stars probably would.

Sure, I don't know that's true. It's just a little daydreamy fantasy, but it's a very pleasant vision I'd like to hold onto. Go figure, when I have fantasies about musicians or actors, it's not about fame or steamy seduction, it's about hanging out and having a cup of coffee.

Or tea.

Yeah, sometimes the fantasy is tea.

Even when I was of an age when I more frequently went all crushy on pop stars, it wasn't about the hot luuuuvin', it was always about hanging out, talking, maybe taking a road trip somewhere. Honest. I've always had the most clean-cut fantasy life ever.


I think part of that comes from the fact that, in real life, I couldn't ever get any guys interested enough in me to even go to a coffee shop and talk. So, my psyche is forever taking baby steps, I guess.

Back in college, of course y'all already know, my big crush was on Thomas Dolby.

Dolby then

All retro suits and round glasses and floppy blond hair. Swoon material, for certain. Over the years, my crush faded. In its place, there's great affection, occasional vexation, and tremendous admiration. I once told a good friend - with a wistful laugh - you just can't have a crush on someone once you've seen pics of their kiddos in their cute Halloween costumes. Guess I'm just too Midwestern for that! I'm just so pleased to see nice folks in the limelight having a wonderfully normal, happy family life, that any crush is, well, crushed at that point. And hey, I'd take a friend over a crush any old day.

Dolby now

But I can still have my harmless coffee shop fantasies. Once, in a strange synchronistically dazzling moment, I had one of these fantasies come true when I encountered one half of Tears For Fears (the talented half) in one of those ubiquitous chain coffee joints right here in Bethesda. Freaked me out. I made myself late to work because I had to stop and say hello. And he was charming and kind and talked with me much longer than he was surely obligated to. Much to my chagrin, the Sasquatch probably walked right past said coffee shop on his way to the Metro and missed out on the whole chat. Bummer.

But moments like those are few and far between, even in my Weirdness Magnet existence. You just don't generally walk into a Bethesda Starbucks and find international pop stars nursing a tea in the corner. (I did encounter Adam Ant waiting for a prescription at a pharmacy here, too, but that's another story altogether...)

Crowded House then

It's not that I figured if I made it to the Crowded House gig in Philly tonight, I'd have any one-on-one time with anyone in the band. I'm not delusional, honest! It's just that, I've never seen them perform together, and the vibe that seems to come off all their gigs is warm and welcoming and you're part of the in-jokes. So many bands touring right now - the ones that have been around for a long time... I dunno... The rapport just isn't there anymore, either between the members of the ensemble or between the band and the audience. I think there's a lot of them going through the motions and just hauling in a lot of cash (overpriced Police reunion tour, anyone?) But when the band members are friends, when they genuinely enjoy each other's company and just soak up the energy of the crowd? Man, that's so good. Not to be trite, but we can feel the love.

Crowded House now

When the Sasquatch and I saw Erasure perform at the 9:30 Club back in 2005, we got that vibe from Andy and Vince. There just seemed to be such a deep friendship between the two guys on stage, it was genuinely moving and just enhanced the music on a totally different level. (By the way, Erasure's new CD, Light at the End of the World? Fantastic. If you love old school Erasure - the fun electronic pop we all danced around to in the 80s and early 90s, you will dig this. It's a total return to their roots, and I love it.)


I'm not sure that I'd want to hang out with Andy and Vince. (I couldn't keep up with Andy, the perennial clubber. Although I find the thought of Vince and his wife living in some quiet Maine town pretty hilarious. I wonder if his Yankee neighbors know he's this electronic music demi-god?) Some performers I love, but I imagine the coffee shop fantasy would fail.

Morrissey? Well, crap. He still makes my heart race a bit faster, but he probably wouldn't even want to shake my hand, let alone hang out, since I love a good steak and am looking forward to a juicy slice of turkey or two at Thanksgiving. On the other hand, Morrissey seems incredibly intent on connecting with his audiences. When he is on stage, he is there for you, dear listener. And that is a beautiful thing. No wonder he gives the ladies (and 10% of the gents) serious palpitations.

Joe Jackson, on the other hand, does not give me palpitations, although his music utterly kicks ass. Joe gave off a bit of an F-U vibe when the Sasquatch and I met him a few years back at a book signing in DC (although there were mitigating factors in JJ being less than cordial.) No coffee shop fantasies there, although I'd love to see him in concert again, with all his caffeine and nicotine energy pulsing through gangly limbs and a Gollum-ish pale face, powering out unbelievably, soulfully good tunes.

Just no coffee shop time with Joe, thanks. (He'd probably boycott coffee shops in Maryland, anyway, as they're all smoke-free, and Joe is all about being able to smoke wherever the hell he wants.)

Truth is, being musically talented doesn't necessarily mean that you have superior stage presence or know to connect to people or even want to connect to people. I assume, at the heart of things, musicians make music for themselves first and foremost. That need to create comes before the need to share. Some people have that added element of charisma or charm or a sincere desire to reach out to others - live, in person - that boosts them from "just" talented musician to successful performer.

Of course, there are some people who don't personally connect with their live audiences, yet that somehow translates into "mystery" and increases their cachet. The Sasquatch tells me Michael Stipe used to turn away from his audiences when he sang. That would have driven me nuts in concert, but it only served to increase his legend. Of course, now that Michael is comfortable in his own skin, we get to see waaaay too much of Stipe-y boy. I love me some good R.E.M., I'm just not sure I need to see him modeling for Marc Jacobs.

There was this alt rock-ish band I used to go see in London - Felt. Loved their sort of atmospheric tuneage. But they had so little rapport with us, it made the concerts feel superficial. I liked the music, but their lack of engagement with us in the here and now translated into a less passionate appreciation of their stuff on my part. When these guys took the stage, the lead singer simply muttered "We're Felt" into his mic, and that was that. The music poured forth, but there were no more words, no thank yous. Just nada, zip, zilch. I own everything Felt ever put out (great study music), but do I really listen to it now? Nope.

On the other hand, when Dolby returned to the stage at the beginning of 2006, there was such a sense of joy from his audiences, and seeing him grinning from ear to ear like an ecstatic Cheshire cat, reflecting our glee, just boosted the pleasure. Since there was no band with Thomas, there was no one to share banter. But he told us stories and acknowledged us - sometimes directly - in his cheerful, yet slightly shy English way. It will be really neat to see how the storyteller modifies his one-man show talk in September when he returns to us on the East Coast with the Jazz Mafia Horns. I've never seen him share a stage (except at IT conference panels, that is), so this will be fun.

The EP (available at CDBaby.com or on iTunes) is really damn good!

But the relationship with the Jazz Mafia Horns is a relatively new one for Thomas, so it's not the long-standing blend of performance and life that Crowded House has behind it. Yes, the mercurial personality of late drummer Paul Hester is gone, but definitely not forgotten. But in his loss there seems to be an even stronger bond between Neil Finn and his remaining band mates. I've been reading concert reviews this week from other fans and the snippets of hilarious banter that these old friends toss back and forth and the efforts they take to engage the audience far beyond what I've personally experienced at other groups' gigs. Something that really touched me was the report from a New York fan who got to see a freebie preview show back in July. At one point, Neil added new lyrics to one of their classic songs, wondering what the next point would be when the audience would sing along with the band again.

That's just cool.

I once saw Neil pull a woman out of the audience at the 9:30 Club to come and sing with him. She was so lovely, a bashful, zaftig woman who swayed to the music as she sang next to Neil - just another fan, but one with a great set of pipes. He invited her to come along and sing again at his next gig the following night in Philly.

And that's where I'd like to be right now. In Philly. Waiting for Neil and Nick and Mark and Matt to take the stage. Waiting to be enveloped in that music and mood that resonates with so many of us. I'd like to be part of that crowd, listening for familiar strings of notes and poetry that reminds us of specific places and times and makes us feel good or laugh or ache.

But the tickets were expensive for my empty pocketbook, and the car needs new brakes (as in, the brake light is now illuminated, which ain't good.) The rational mind won out; I couldn't justify the cost of a ticket and gas and a place to sleep, which would equal out to the cost of the brakes, more or less. So, instead, I've fantasized about someone giving me a ticket. Ridiculous, sure. But you know, a girl can dream.

Lemme go back a few years and explain why this situation is so much more painful than it probably should be for a grown-up. In 1994, Crowded House came through DC for the very last time before breaking up. April 1994, to be more precise. Okay, April 10, 1994. Lisner Auditorium. Sheryl Crow opened for them. (Might explain why Neil is the male harmony voice on "Every Day is a Winding Road.") But you see, when the tickets went on sale, I was out of the country. Kazakhstan, to be precise. I was staying in a foul hooker-ridden hotel (you'll read about it in the book) with none of "teh Internets" or even a reliable phone line. It was me, the hookers, the snow coming in through the hole on the balcony door, two TV channels that showed a Kazakh soap opera 24/7 and a hotel cafe that serve weevil-infested soup.

Good times, good times.

I had asked a friend to buy me a ticket for Crowded House while I was doing the grand tour of Borat-land. But he forgot. Honestly, he just forgot. He'd started dating someone new while I was gone, and, frankly, I think he had much more important (or at least more, uh, interesting) things on his mind than picking up a concert ticket for me. "Crowded What?" I absolutely do not fault him for this. He had no clue just how much I wanted to hear these guys. Hell, I myself might have forgotten, too, under similar circumstances.

When I got back to DC, though, the tickets were long gone. Sold out. None available. And I'm too much of a straight arrow to have even thought of finding a scalper.

Missing that concert was one of my big "things that got away" - I've thought about it many times in the 12+ years since, believe it or not.

That's how much my music matters to me.

Look, I've got no husband, no boyfriend, no kids. Music is a refuge for me. I have a soundtrack for my life. It makes me smile, it makes me cry, it helps me dream. And when I am in a room full of people who love that same music - and with musicians who want to reach out to you and feel the love you have for them - that can be pretty damn profound. It's a positive human connection - strangely intimate in less than intimate circumstances - that is often lacking in my "real" life.

And I'm missing it tonight.


Two nights ago, someone here in the DC area posted to the Crowded House forum - she had two tickets she could not use for Philly. She had given up on selling them and she wanted to give them away.

I was too late. I missed her post by minutes, but it was too late. I'm happy, though, that they went to someone else from the forum. Means they went to a fan for whom this would be a joyful experience. I was willing to light candles on my dashboard for the car to hold up and sleep in a rest area had I gotten the tickets. Just wasn't meant to be.

I just read a few minutes ago that Neil's voice is in bad shape after their gigs in NYC and they had to curtail a live radio performance for WXPN at World Cafe Live at noon. It's questionable as to whether his voice will hold up for tonight's gig.

Guess it really just wasn't meant to be.

I'll just hope that the boys come back for another tour. I'll hope that this CD sells well enough to call them back to this continent that has never been very kind to them sales-wise. I'll hope that the love they get from all their audiences will be enough. (And the revenue from the t-shirt sales, of course. Concert t-shirts cost more than some tickets now. Kinda makes me glad they don't make them in my size - no temptation at all!)

Okay, if you're gonna have a concert t-shirt in your collection,
this one's pretty cool.

So, Philly friends, fellow fans - enjoy tonight. Here's hoping for clear skies and good health for the man who has to belt 'em out. But hey - even if Neil can't sing his heart out, you can sing back to him. Sing one for me.