Jul 292007
 

Andy and I paid an exorbitant price this past spring for tickets to last night’s Police concert at Fenway Park. At least, I thought so at the time. Now? Not so much.

I mean, yeah, the tickets weren’t cheap. I wouldn’t pay that kind of money to see the Rolling Stones or the Who. Though I might consider it if someone could get Ringo and Sir Paul on a stage together.

But oh my freaking Gods, the Police. Best. Show. Ever.

All three of them have still got it. Andy laid down a couple of guitar solos that just melted my mind. Stewart was all over the damned stage during Wrapped Around Your Finger, running back and forth between the drum kit and the xylophone like a man half his age. And Sting? Well, Sting was Sting. The crowd was on their feet through the whole damned thing.

They played for almost 2 hours, leaving the stage only once for just a couple of minutes. They played Synchronicity II and Roxanne and Every Breath You Take and Don’t Stand So Close to Me and Walking in Your Footsteps and just about every other big hit they ever had. Including Invisible Sun, which still feels relevant as hell more than 25 years after it was written.

Totally worth every freaking penny.

Excuse me while I fire up Yahoo! Music and play all their albums now.

Apr 222007
 

One of the coolest things about the internet is the possibility of stumbing across something fun that you might never have encountered in real life.

This morning, I’ve been exploring Middle Eastern pop music. Mainly Egyptian, Lebanese, and Turkish. I’m not usually one to fall for the pretty-boy pop icon type, but I’ve become rather enamored of Tarkan. I think I’ve listened to Ölürüm Sana eight or ten times in the last six hours, and it’s not getting old. His signature song, Şımar&#305k, is also quite appealing.

Mar 172007
 

So, these last couple of weeks are beginning to make me feel a little bit spoiled.

  • I have tickets to two upcoming concerts: Great Big Sea in April and the Police in July.
  • The Black Parade is still new enough that I don’t know all the lyrics yet (I will learn them, because they are in the liner notes, and that is what I do).
  • Last weekend, Andy bought me 2 Doctor Who DVDs from the Colin Baker era: “Revelation of the Daleks” which is a personal favorite because of Alexei Sayle’s guest appearance, plus Terry Molloy’s Davros, and William Gaunt’s Orcini; and “The Mark of the Rani” which I don’t think I’ve actually seen all the way through, but who doesn’t love Kate O’Mara?
  • Yesterday, he bought me the cutest little statue of Zatanna, with half her arm disappearing into her top hat and the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.
  • This morning, I ordered 3 books from Amazon: Rob Thurman’s second book, Moonshine; the first Harry Dresden novel; and The Land of Mist and Snow by Debra Doyle and James D. Macdonald. That last one, I’ve been looking for in bookstores since it came out and haven’t actually laid eyes on it. And, you know, when you’re taking writing advice from someone, it might be a good idea to actually read some of his stuff, yeah?
Mar 162007
 

Andy and I just got tickets to the Great Big Sea concert at the Portsmouth (NH) Music Hall next month. Paired with the Police concert at Fenway Park in July, that makes 2007 the year of the Music Orgy.

You see, I can’t remember the last time I went to two concerts in the same calendar year. It’s entirely possible that it’s never actually happened before. Normally, I balk at the price of tickets, or the show I’d like to see isn’t worth the effort to rearrange my schedule, or some such thing. If I sat down and tallied every concert I’ve ever been to, it would probably be fewer that 15.

The GBS concert is on a Wednesday night, but I’ll take a day off midweek to breathe the same air as Alan Doyle for an hour or two, no doubt about it.

Andy just bought me a copy of My Chemical Romance’s The Black Parade the other day, too, so you can see that my taste in music is much more twisted than most people suspect at first. One of my coworkers walked into my office a while back and was shocked that I was listening to Duke Ellington. Hell, he was shocked that I knew who Duke Ellington was. (Is Gen-X really that provincial?!)

You should see some of the looks I get when I’m walking the dog and singing Oingo Boingo to myself. Can I help it if “Dead Man’ Party” has such a catchy tune?