One year when I went to Fresh 102.7 in the Park for a free outdoor summer concert with D and T, we almost melted because it was over 100 degrees even after the sun went down. You know, the type of night when you sit without moving and still sweat. It was gross. Fun but gross.
A fun and not gross time is Fresh 102.7's Holiday Jam! It's in the winter! It's indoors! Yeay!
Eddie and I went to see Train because seeing Train at a smaller venue is the best way to see train. We were at the Hammerstein, not in the general admission stand in a crowd part, but up in the balcony with the ancient seats part. I actually wouldn't mind paying a few dollars more for them to upgrade their seats to be not broken.
With a chill in the air, we walked from Penn to Hammerstein in under three minutes and didn't have very long of a wait outside. As a bonus, we got FREE stuff! We got laminates that said Holiday Jam and had a coupon. We also got bracelets that lit up. The guy handing them out was like, Do you want one?
Want one? I want all the ones!
O.A.R. opened the show. There was one guy in the back up band we really enjoyed who was in the spotlight because he's from New York and it was his birthday. We liked him because he was dancing and putting on his own show. A lot of the crowd who was cheering seemed to be fans who travel to see them and they knew every song. We knew some of the songs and the rest were entertaining.
James Bay was up next. We thought it was going to be a little sleepy because he sings "Let It Go," not the song from Frozen, but the one by, well, him, and it's slow. Apparently, we don't know his music very well. He put on quite the upbeat frenetic show and then he sang "Let It Go." Then he covered "Proud Mary" and I kept insisting Tina Turner was going to come out as a surprise guest. She did not. Still, good cover.
Right after his set was done, a fight broke out in the crowd. Let me say that again: a fight broke out at the Holiday Jam after James Bay. Seriously, know your place, fight-pickers. It was a short fight. It was stupid.
Then it was time for Train. The members of Train are all clearly thankful for being able to play music, and they are clearly having fun. They played mostly known songs and they included the new "Play That Song" that a lot of people already know. Pat Monahan then said that the bassist was going to sing a song. But there was also a special guest! Nope, not Tina Turner. Sorry. But it was Matt Nathanson! So close!They all sang David Bowie's "Pressure" and it was phenomenal.
Free stuff. A bonus Nathanson. This is what the holidays are about.
A line up throwing back to the 70s: Tesla, REO Speedwagaon, and Def Leppard. It's gotta be a summer concert. It's gotta be at Jones Beach. It's gotta be awesome. And it was.
More than several years ago, I saw Cinderella opening for Poison, and poor Tom Keifer could barely hit the high notes. For those of you unfamiliar with the Cinderella catalog, it's almost all high notes. Last night, I saw three lead singers hit high note after high note, holding them out, raising the roof, and bringing the house down. Though we were outside and there was no roof and no house, but you get what I mean.
When my brother told me Tesla was one of the acts, I was like, Oh good! I like that one song! You know--Signs, signs, everywhere is signs....
Come to find out that they have other songs. AND I knew another one! It's a love song called Love Song. And it's good! That's what they closed with. Then my brother and I had a conversation about Tesla, meaning Nikola Tesla. The guy who invented things that other people like Marconi and Edison stole. Poor Tesla.
Fun Fact: He had an affinity for pigeons.
Yes, this is the conversation we were having when the roadies were breaking down the stage. Because we are educator nerds. But then we talked about REO Speedwagon.
Fun Fact: An REO Speedwagon is a fire truck.
Yes, this is the conversation we were having. But then I was trying to figure out what songs I'd know. My brother has their greatest hits album and listens to way more music than I do, so he'd know more. Then I asked, pretty sure the answer would be no, if they sang Sister Christian.
He laughed at me and was like, No, that's Night Ranger. Still, I didn't see why they couldn't sing Sister Christian. Maybe they would. I was pretty sure everyone playing would know it. And the crowd would love it.
Then REO came out and that lead singer can get a crowd going, even when the amphitheater is not yet filled. They sang some newer songs I'd never heard. They sang some older songs I'd never heard. These were songs my brother knew, so he sang along, and I took pictures of the sunset while pretending to sing along.
I did not have to pretend to sing along to Take It On The Run or Keep On Lovin You or Heard It From A Friend. I knew songs!
The sky grew really dark and finally finally finally Def Leppard came out.
The first thing I noticed was Phil Collen and how he doesn't wear a shirt and how he was already shiny as if he were sweating but he hadn't done anything yet so I had a sneaking suspicion that he had oiled up before the show but then thought how can you play a guitar with all that oil all over so maybe he was just warm. The reason all this was distracting is he's almost in his 60s and he looks like this:
He was shinier!
Other things I noticed:
1.
Joe Elliott thinks he's a magician. He ends almost every song with his arms straight out to the sides and his head back, very Copperfield-like, and sometimes he wears a top hat.
2.
Rick Allen is still the hardest working drummer in rock. Obvious reasons.
3.
When you sing a Def Leppard song, you don't necessarily have to form full words to sing along. Some of the songs are so high or so low that you can screech or grumble, and you're singing right along. Take the lyrics to Love Bites: Love bites. Love bleeds. It's err eh eee oh ah eeeeee. See? Singing.
They have a new album out, and I've yet to hear it. My brother new some of the new stuff, but there was one song where we were like, Huh? as the video played behind them of a mannequin head--I don't know, maybe that's a throwback to Sugar? Aside from that one song (when everyone seemed to go get a snack or take a bathroom break so we were not alone in this), we knew everything else in some capacity. Speaking of everyone, there was quite a cross-section of humanity there. My brother said that a lot of the young people (omigod, I said young people--you know, because I'm old) were there because of the new album. I figured most of the older older people were there for REO. Who was there for Tesla? Well, there had been about twenty people standing right in front of the stage cheering and jumping when they were singing, so they had their fans, too. Also, we were in the upper upper seats. Like we were in the very last row, which had the best and prettiest views, so I figured that it was also a cheaper way to take the family out to something fun.
Actually, I'm not that old. He asked Who here was alive in 1977? And I wasn't. Which puts me in the category of Young People At The Concert, and he said he needs us young people, Def Leppard needs us young people, and all of rock needs us young people.
Anyway, back to the leppards. JE had three wardrobe changes, including the aforementioned top hat. Rick Savage and Vivian Campbell and Phil Collen and Rick Allen had solos.
Oh! BTW, if you search on Bing for def leppard band members (because you aren't being lazy for once and want to spell their names correctly), this guy's picture comes up as Rick Allen.
Heh heh. I love the interwebs.
When they got to Hysteria, my voice started to go and I fell back in time as photos of them popped up on the screen from when they first started (when I had yet to be born) and when the album Hysteria came out (when I was like 11). If you've never listened to the Hysteria album, stop what you're doing and go buy it on iTunes (if you can navigate that horrible site--if not, get it on Spotify or whatever else you tech-music people use) and listen to it straight through at least three times. It'll change your life. And if it doesn't, listen to it until it does. Even if you haven't heard the whole album, you've probably heard most of it since they had at least 7 singles from it that all played on the radio and were all popular, including Armageddon It and Pour Some Sugar On Me, and if you watched MTV when those songs came out, then you know that those two videos were almost exactly the same and no one cared because the songs were just that popular.
Singing along is such a treat because if you actually do know the words, you know that a lot of the time, they are a little bit silly. Like, well, Pour some sugar on me in the name of love. Which would be really sticky, but that comes up, too: I'm hot, sticky sweet, from my head to my feet.
Or really simple like: What do you want? I want rock n roll. What do you want? Long live rock n roll. And back to silly: Still rollin, keep a rollin. Because a rock rolls, you know.
This? Is brilliance. And no, I'm not being sarcastic.
They encored with Rock of Ages (of the aforementioned rolling rock lyrics) and then Photograph, which is my brother's favorite song, so I'd like to think they did that specifically for him. Because it was his birthday. Which is a great way to celebrate. If not for my brother, I probably would've never listened to Def Leppard or any of the hair metal bands of the 80s or the classic rock bands before them, so it's more than kinda great that I have an older brother who listened, and still listens, to damn good music. Even if I don't get all of it. Still great.
No one played Sister Christian, unless Tesla sang it before we got there. Probably not. But who needs Sister Christian when you've got an entire discography of Def Leppard at your fingertips? No one, that's who (in case you don't get rhetorical questions).
Ok, so he also likes the Stones, so I badly photoshopped this photo to add his name over that guy's.
And now for the encore:
[As usual, not proofread, but this time, any errors can be blamed on my feeling hung over because I was out late and woke up early.]
Having a mild winter works out really well for going north for a fun time in Tarrytown. Usually by this time of year, we'd be drudging through snow, so this was the perfect year to go see Dickens's "A Christmas Carol" as told by Jonathan Kruk, Master Storyteller. The Hudson Valley folks who put on the creepy scary Halloween events in Sleepy Hollow offer up this much sweeter, much less horrifying show. Eddie had no idea what this was all about when I sent him the link to see if he was interested. He simply clicked the link and bought the tickets and bam! I had a Christmas present.
We found a close enough diner for dinner after we drove about an hour up and through the town. The Eldorado Diner? Has seen better days. So has its chef. My omelet tasted a bit like burger, and Eddie's burger tasted a bit like disgusting. Maybe I'm a diner snob. Or maybe Eldorado should simply change its name to Elgrosso.
Because we were so close to Christ Church, where the show would be performed, we got there in no time, found parking, and hopped on line. We were maybe five people back. The seating is general admission, so this worked out in our favor. As we'd driven through, we'd seen a very long line of people waiting outside for the previous showtime. We didn't want to stand in a very long line. The show before ours ended at 5:30ish, so we figured we'd be in line for 20 minutes tops as we got there at exactly 5:30.
Waiting on line for only ten minutes....
Half an hour later, the sun had gone down already, and the crisp air of northern territory crept in. We were shivering. We were hopping in place. The woman in front of us was doing calisthenics. The man behind us was talking non-stop. I don't think he was doing this to be warm. He was doing this to be annoying. Or, rather, that was the end result even if it was not his purpose.
I found out that he was having dinner on Tuesday and the woman with him would be there for dinner if it wasn't served too late, and he was happy to have her come to dinner, but he needed to run out to the store first, and he was wearing the wrong shoes because he hadn't expected to be waiting this long and when we all finally got inside, the woman was to make a left and sit four rows back because he had seen this show three times already and knew the best place to sit and he'd seen a different show at a different place that has a fireplace and he knows to sit near the fireplace because that venue gets cold and then their friends showed up and one of them asked the woman if she could get him to be quiet for a minute and she said no and the guy started talking about Tuesday dinner again.
Rumor had it that the show before ours began late, so we'd be waiting a while. The cops there scanned our tickets so that we could go straight in when the show eventually let out. The people in front of us had more people come to meet them. I'm not a fan of that. We've been freezing our asses off and then they have people simply jump the line? I can see one person meeting one other person, but to save a space for four or five more people when there's general admission seems sketchy. One of them had a cane, so there went my need for outrage. Canes and walkers calm my outrage every time.
Finally, people started pouring out of the church. We were let in immediately. Eddie and I sat a few rows back from the stage on the aisle, all the while making sure we didn't go left so that we wouldn't be near the Incredible Talking Man.
It's warm in here.
What was more incredible was that the Incredible Talking Man, having seen this show three times previously and knowing where to sit and loving moving his mouth and making words come out of it, this man did not participate in the singing. Yes, there was singing. The accompanist welcomed us by strumming his guitar and pacing the stage in his Dickensian suit with only socks, no shoes. He led us in singing The Twelve Days of Christmas. We got to 9 without a problem, and then it started to fall apart. Singing The Twelve Days of Christmas while thinking about what you're singing is much harder than simply singing it mindlessly. We got through the whole song, and then he went to sit behind the organ. I don't know if he put on any shoes.
A Hudson Valley person went up on stage and explained the history of the church. This was the church where Washington Irving worshiped. His pew is off to the side.
Then came the "silver-tongued" storyteller Jonathan Kruk, dressed in a red Dickensian suit complete with red plaid pants and a red top hat. He told the story of "A Christmas Carol" using different voices and a few props. Only once did it seem to lag--a part when the Ghost of Christmas Future shows Scrooge people selling off things from Scrooge's funeral and laughing about it, and it was one too many people selling one too many things and having one too many laughs. But then it was over within an hour and I realized I hadn't heard the entire tale in years. It was a wonderful way to meet it again.
After the show, the storyteller stayed for photos. We checked out Irving's pew and then left the church in to the cold but not wintery night. Merry Christmas, everyone. (See what I did there? It's so literary!)
I've always wanted to go to Trivia Night. Like any Trivia Night. There have not been any in particular that I've pined after. Simply Trivia Night. I don't have a very good memory, but I do know a lot of junk, and sometimes I can recall it when something sparks it. Like trivia questions. What's even better is I know a lot of people who know a lot of stuff.
Sip This, a local coffee shop that also runs as a mecca of local arts and entertainment, has been running Trivia Night for a while, and I've wanted to go, so when I saw Classic TV and Music as the latest theme, I sprang into action.
I called on S because she recognizes faces and voices after seeing and hearing them once.
I called on my officemate E because she's been around the world and knows entertainment on a scholarly level.
I called on my brother who is a walking vinyl shop.
My expertise, clearly, was "putting together the team."
The night of the trivia, we met up and snacked and drank, and we tossed around team names, E pointing out that we could call ourselves The Three Musketeers because there were actually four of them. We figured that would blow everyone's mind. We wound up being Team 3. Also mind-blowing.
The rules are simple. Write your answer on the small dry-erase board they gave us. If we thought we could earn points with a different answer or were confused, we could simply raise our hand and ask. Also, we were having fun. That was the point. Our host stressed that. It was all for fun.
Fast forward to everyone whining whenever she brought up a new category to the point where she asked, Maybe could you please not moan at me? I get it. My writing students moan at me when I tell them we are going to write something.
The music went pretty well. Figuring out the title of a song when someone is speaking the lyrics proves to be brain-bending. We got a lot right, mostly because of my brother, who also knew something about a pig being on an album cover. I cheered loudly when he was the only person to get it right. We also got some things wrong because we were second-guessing ourselves and each other. That's bound to happen in a newly-formed team. We should've practiced first! Next time! There was also the question of who was the youngest Rolling Stone, and since some have died, we were very confused.
The TV portion? Didn't go so well. The trivia was based more on specific episodes or tiny elements of a show--like what was Dick Van Dyck's son's middle name on the show? Spoiler alert: Rosebud. Unless you already knew that. In which case, hit me up--I want you on my team.
So much for team loyalty. I like winning.
We did not win. We did come in third out of six, so the upper echelon finish for a brand new team is pretty impressive, I'd say. Well, I am saying. We are impressive. Even though we didn't win free t-shirts. And I like free stuff, but the experience was still great.
I did decide that if I can't guarantee a win, I'd like to be a trivia host. Think about it. I'd totally excel! All these years of teaching, being in front of people who might rebel at any minute if they don't like your question or the right answer--I mean, this seems to be what I've been gearing up for completely!
When
I listen to the radio while driving alone and a throwback from the '80s
or ‘90s comes on, I roll down the windows, turn up the volume, and
yell, "This! Is! My! Jam!" Then I sing along. Loudly. You've been there.
We've all been there.
The difference between singing along now versus singing along
strapped into the backseat next to our siblings with our parents up
front is that now, we not only pay more attention to the lyrics, but we
know exactly what they mean. Then we realize that when we were young,
our parents were either not listening or were simply happy we weren't
beating the crap out of each other or whining about how
hungry/thirsty/tired/bored we were.
Here's what we sang, and why we probably should not have....
The best kind of Christmas presents for my parents are experiences. Stuff is great, but they've had enough of stuff for the most part, so my brother decided we should see Elvis. He's a BB King's guru, so I put all my Christmas faith in him that we'd see a good show. Not only would we see Elvis, but we'd also get brunch, and I'm a big fan of brunch.
I'm not a big fan of crowded trains, however, and for some reason, the train from Jamaica to Penn was almost unboardable. One reason was that everyone in the tri-state area was traveling on that one particular train with luggage. The other reason was that many of those travelers did not know how to move down the aisles, and so they stayed tightly packed where the doors were. You know, where people attempt to get on the train. Eddie and I left my parents at one car and we jammed ourselves into another. Once the doors closed, we got situated pretty well. Some poor kid was crammed between me and some large person with a large suitcase as his dad stood across from him, caught between a couple.
It was hot. I was under some sort of vent, so my face was cool, but everything else was sweaty. The kid told his dad he was thirsty. The dad somehow bent down to grab water from his backpack without hitting into anyone too much. Then the kid started leaning on me all weird.
Oh, wait, not leaning. The kid was passing out. Fainting right there. The dad dropped the sack and lunged for him while I braced him against my hip so he would slide straight down on his butt. Then he woke up. The couple surrounding the dad asked if he wanted water, but the dad already had it.
I always always always carry snacks with me. Except for that one day. I told Eddie--I wish I had a snack for him. Eddie was like, I was going to ask if you did. Nope, no snacks for the fainting boy.
We all shifted so that the kid was sitting next to his dad for the rest of the ride, and he was pretty content chugging down the bottle of water. When the doors opened, we met up with my parents and found that their ride was not as eventful.
Taking the subway to Times Square was not eventful either. I mean, there were people singing and dancing and chanting and yelling, but no one was passing out on top of me. We walked to the club and met up with my brother, and we were able to go in right away. He showed us all the upcoming acts listed on the walls, and we saw that the guy from The Voice would be playing there soon. Ooh, we watch that show. We are so on top of pop culture.
We ate brunch while the room filled up. It wasn't cramped as I thought it would be, and I fell in love with my sandwich. As we ate, Eddie caught first sight of Elvis.
Elvis has a cell phone.
Later on, Elvis ditched the cell phone for some fancy duds. The entrance was interesting because the music was louder than the actual introduction, but we knew the lady was yelling something about Elvis coming to the stage. And did he ever.
He sang Elvis tunes. He sang non-Elvis tunes. He could carry a tune. Women were fawning over him. During one song, he was wearing a scarf and gave it away. Women then lined up to get scarves.
Between sets, he would talk to us, and he was really funny, especially when one woman from France was talking over him and he called her out and she had no idea what was going on, and for the rest of the show, he kept referencing France and she had no clue because she spoke very little English, but she, too, got a scarf.
I did not get a scarf. I was content with my napkin.
Go ahead. Tell me what that is.
Additionally, I was more than content with how the show wrapped up. Though Elvis (aka Gene DiNapoli) refused a lot of requests because the band hadn't had enough time to learn the gamut of Elvis songs throughout time, he did play "Suspicious Minds," which is my favorite Elvis song ever. More importantly, my mom and dad enjoyed it. They were bopping around in their chairs. My dad was clapping off-beat. My mom was whooping after every song. My brother, Eddie, and I enjoyed it, but the two of them were like over the moon enjoying it. It was as close as we could get to getting them tickets to see Elvis himself, so I'd say it was a Christmas gift done good.
Drunk Girl and Drunk Mom were the unexpected bonus of the evening when Eddie took me to see Train at Radio City Music Hall. We settled into center stage seats towards the back of the hall and noticed that it was pretty empty during the opening act. The duo, Alex & Sierra, folk-rocked out and then folked-out Britney Spears's "Toxic," which was amusing and inspiring. The theater filled up as they played, and then the rest of the row arrived to Eddie's left. Enter Drunk Girl. She clutched a drink in each hand. Behind her, Drunk Mom followed. At first, I thought one drink was for the mom. Then I saw that Drunk Mom had a drink of her own, but only one. When Alex & Sierra finished their set, Dunk Girl and Drunk Mom disappeared and came back before Train came to the stage with more drinks. Twice.
When the lights went down and the stage came up, Drunk Girl jumped up and hair danced. What's a hair dance? Well, it's when you dance with your head bobbing forward and to the sides because your neck is too drunk to hold your head up, and so your hair falls all over, making it seem that you do not have a face. Along with the hair dance, she also had half a chicken dance going, and Eddie and I feared that his face might suffer with an elbow jab or two before the end of the night. When the more well-known songs came about, Drunk Girl tried pulling Drunk Mom to her feet to hair dance and half a chicken dance along with her, but Drunk Mom kept saying, I can't stand. Class act!
So if that was the bonus, you might imagine what the show was like. It was like, well, hmm. Words cannot describe the awesomeness of this show. In a small venue like Radio City, it's as if the band sings to each individual, one word, one note for each person there. Then to make it even better, Pat Monahan takes selfies one-handedly with other people's phones while running around in the audience and walking on chairs (security must love him), and then he signed shirts and threw them. They don't need to do those things. They do because it's enjoyable for the audience, but without them, the show is still all kinds of Uh. May. ZING.
What it looked like through the camera phone.
Lots of colors and music and magic and fun
And this is what they sounded like. You may be familiar with this song.
They played some older stuff. Love it.
Side note: I've been catching up on Patcast, which is the podcast by Pat Monahan. I am really behind because I just figured out how to play podcasts through my car, and now that's all I listen to. I've been following Train on Instagram, and I've always wanted to listen to the Patcast after I see photos of them. Now I listen as I'm driving and I'm always wishing I were listening while doing nothing because they are so inspiring and funny that I want to write shit down and steal the words and make poetry, but I'm always driving and smiling and I must look like a maniac because whenever someone says something brilliant, I start to repeat it over and over so I'll remember it, but I never remember it because I get distracted by the rest of the podcast. Nobody knows the trouble I've seen; nobody knows my sorrow--brought to you by English Professor Problems.
So okay, I've given you the bonus and the make it even better moments, but here's the best moment of the night. Pat Monahan decides, hey, I'm gonna sing with no mic. So he holds the mic down by his waist, takes a huge singer-sized breath, and starts to belt out the words: When it rains it pours and opens doors... and he sways side to side and his neck and head look like they're about to come off, not because he's doing the drunk hair dance like Drunk Girl next to us but because he's using every lick of energy to make the sound hit us in the back row. And it did. And it was every bit of heaven on earth as cosmically possible.
Eddie was like, The mic is still picking up some of the sound.
I was like, Ruin this for me and I will cut you.
Eddie was like, No, no, it's great.
And he actually meant that because he does like Train, though it's quite possible we both like Gavin DeGraw a little more than Train by default since he's the act Eddie has seen in concert the most, and we were both a little bit let down that he was not on the bill. But back to Train and their being great--Eddie has some songs downloaded on his iPod, some of which he could have simply downloaded from me instead of buying them from iTunes but someone did not think to ask someone else if someone else already owned the songs. Hey, support the cause, right? "Soul Sister" is actually kind of like our song. I know, it's everyone's song, but really, it's ours. Like, have you ever liked a song so much that you just can't listen to it sometimes? That's that song. Also, that Marry Me song is one we like, too, or actually, liked until I pointed out how it seems a bit stalkerish--I mean, he's singing to this girl to marry him but then asks, Will I ever get the nerve to say hello in this cafe? That, to me, indicates that he's been staring at this girl forever and wants to marry her but he hasn't even said a word to her. I have written a poem influenced by this song, but the song itself is not recognized in the poem because that's what poets do. We steal.
Back to the concert. There's Pat Monahan, shout-singing "When I Look To The Sky," and then the band kicks in louder and he uses the mic before he passes out and then well I. Just. Can't. It's too good to be described.
To wrap it all up, they used "Dream On" as their bow. Now I've heard lots of covers of "Dream On," and the only one that actually sounds like a good song is the version Train does.
A pretty spectacular birthday present. Thanks, love.
Dear Diary: Heathers! The film from my childhood, one of S's favorites, has come to the theatre as a musical. The premise of the production is teen angst gone murderous, so I went in expecting absurdity of the best kind, and it lived up to my expectations. It was cheesy and corny and outrageous in all the right ways. At intermission, S, trying to keep an open mind, said that Veronica was being played as more naive than in the movie and JD wasn't dark enough (I mean, he was wearing black, but he wasn't living evil). I could see where she was coming from, but I was more distracted by the odd singing.
I'll start by saying that I can carry a tune in the confines of my own house, and that I can sing a pretty decent rendition of the following songs: "I Got You Babe" (Cher's part), "Close To You" by the Carpenters, "One Less Bell To Answer" the first verse only, and "Sweet Child o' Mine" up until the Axl screamy parts. I know my place in this world, and I do not get paid to sing. That being said...
The singing could have been better. The cast gave me hope that one day I, too, could be in Heathers The Musical, if only they include one of the aforementioned tunes. Every song called for a rather big note somewhere either in a bridge or at the end, and every time one of those notes came, it was more of a cringe moment than a moment of glory. The first time it happened, I actually thought to myself, oh that poor actress must have just gotten over a cold. But then it continued, and it wasn't Broadway great, but it was entertaining, and mostly the music got so loud that the lackluster notes got drowned out. Plus the visual comedy distracted from it--the slo-mo, the facial expressions--they made up for it. And I didn't go for the singing. I went for the fun.
There were quite a few scenes that were stopped mid-action where almost the whole cast froze, and there were others that were slow motion. Combined with songs about getting blue balls and how a father loves his dead gay son and drinking slurpees to get brain freeze, Heathers The Musical wasn't just a play; it was on another planet. The Heathers were awesomely mean and the football players were amazingly douchey, and kudos to the latter for wearing tight underwear for half the play.
The distracting part about JD was that, really, he wasn't a convincing psychopath or evil doer. When the cast broke out into song and dance, he did too, complete with Broadway sway hands, and perhaps the character would have been more convincing had he stood off to the side or sat down in protest. Also, as I explained to S, Christian Slater is pointy, so his features allow him to easily do badass. This guy was a good actor but not pointy enough. I'd make a great casting director, huh?
S was sitting next to a very heavy breather. I thought the guy was sleeping, and the girls sitting in front of us were clearly annoyed by it. But S assured me that, no, he was wide awake and all breathy. If your breathing is loud enough for people in the audience of a musical to hear, you may want to get checked out by your local respiratory therapist.
Speaking of the girls in front of us, they turned around in annoyance as S and I were talking about the 30 Day Ab Workout during intermission and how my back hurt. Excuse us for having a conversation. Go eat some corn nuts.
On our way out of the theatre, we overheard a guy say to the women with him that it was an interesting take on the movie. S was like, EXACTLY! It was interesting. There were a few things missing, of course, but the elements were there, and creative license is creative license--they made a musical out of a dark comedy that was already slightly absurd to begin with. It's a film that probably would not be made today in the same way because of all the murder in the high school, complete with gun violence. But back then, it was a movie that gave the world all the catch phrases and nastiness of its time. Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.
A family outing -- mom and dad's gift to us for no apparent reason other than my mom and dad wanted to see Billy Joel and Eddie's always wanted to see Billy Joel and my brother and I are our parents other children. So off we went!
Before getting on the train to the city, I remembered the rule I'd made quite a few years ago that my mom and I cannot go to concerts together. Why not? Why are we waiting inside? Should we go outside now? The train is coming. It's coming. We should go outside. Mom, it's cold, and the train has to pull in and stop before we get on it. We should go outside and wait. This from the woman who has spent half her life on trains and also ran up and down stairs to catch a train from a different station to get to see the Janis musical. Meanwhile, my dad and Eddie are laughing at us. Nice.
When we got to Penn, we headed up the escalator and climbed some stairs and then faced the chaos of security for which we all got on separate lines. From three rows over, I hear my mom shouting my name. I turn and see not my mom but T and N! T and I had spoken earlier in the week and found out that we were going to the same show, but there was no plan to meet up. If there'd been a plan, we wouldn't have met so easily. Instead, after the security guy accidentally got his wand stuck in my hair (for which he apologized profusely), we all met up inside under the ceiling that Eddie likes so much because it shows hockey games on it. We split up so my parents could find an elevator and then wound up on the escalators behind T and N anyway.
Finally, we got to the seats where my brother was waiting and found that the seats had tvs. Why did the seats have tvs? We turned them on and watched some sports channels while we were waiting, but why were they there in the first place? Eddie and my brother thought that maybe it was because the press people sit near there, but they can have their own tvs in the pressbox, so again, why are there tvs? This was my second trip to the new Garden, and yet again, I was finding surprises left and right.
After settling in with snacks (I was between Eddie and my dad so I was passing Peanut M&Ms back and forth), 8 PM rolled around, the lights went down a little, and then the crowd went wild! For Gavin DeGraw!!
Now none of us knew there was an opening act, but when Gavin DeGraw came out, my parents had no clue what was happening. All they knew was that the man at the piano was NOT Billy Joel. My brother knows of Gavin DeGraw, but he's not a fan.
Me and Eddie on the other hand? Well, let me just say what Eddie said to me in that moment: "I've seen Gavin DeGraw in concert more than any other singer I've seen live." And that is so true. Gavin DeGraw has opened for pretty much any concert we've been to. And so while the family sat stunned and confused, Eddie and I sang really loud and obnoxiously, swaying and clapping, rooting on our now favorite musician of all time. I kept saying to them, You might know this song! They were like, no we don't. They recognized one song he sang (you know, the one from that awful OTH show, the one everyone knows).
The lights came up, and then the lights went down. Then there was a man at the piano. And it was, finally, THE Pianoman. And it was magnificent. We all sang. We all clapped. We all swayed. We cried in different capacities when he sang Goodnight Saigon and had the FDNY on stage. He played "When I'm 64" and some other non-Billy-Joel tunes. He played some songs I've never heard of. Then he played more stuff we knew and we sang some more and then some more again.
It was a long concert that went quickly. We were beat by the end. We said goodbye to my brother and then hopped on the next train home from Penn. It was the longest train in the history of trains. Even my dad said, That train ride was so slow!, and my dad usually doesn't mind anything. Still, a long train ride home is worth every second of a Billy Joel concert. And that's why I have awesome parents.
Something about Sophie Calle's work draws me hypnotically and drives me to write. Her exhibitions fascinate in dealing with her private issues in public light. I heard about her show at the Paula Cooper Gallery a few days before it was to end, so I found my way to the city, Eddie in two. He'd yet to experience her greatness, and I was thrilled to be sharing it.
Of course, in planning to see one kind of artistic endeavor in NYC, we can always run into several others. As soon as we stepped off the train at Penn, we found a free musical performance. Mesmerized, we watched and listened for a solid five minutes. This guy sang, wooed, posed for pictures, and sold some CDs. We clearly were not the only people mesmerized as you can see I had to film him through a crowd.
In addition to his singing, his suit is amazing. Not everyone can pull off an electric blue suit.
We pried ourselves away from the concert and walked downtown. The walk was familiar since I'd gone to the gallery for Calle's last show entitled Take Care Of Yourself back in 2007ish. He found the walk familiar, too, realizing it was where he'd taken a class, and then remembered the class was in a building that also had art galleries. Ah, so close to the art world after all.
When we walked into the gallery, Eddie asked, How much? I was like, How much what? He was like, How much do you have to pay? I was like, It's free. He was like, Really? I was like, Yes. He was like, Wow. I was like, Are you surprised that I found a free thing to do? He was like, No. I suppose the huge advantage of galleries over museums is no admission fee, suggested or otherwise.
Words to describe the exhibit: creative; breath taking; emotional; phenomenal; unique
The exhibition is entitled Absence and it focuses on the loss of her mother. There was a lot of reading to do, and knowing that Eddie probably was not going to read, I read and then summarized what was happening in each piece. He participated by indulging me, nodding, and occasionally saying, Ah, or, Oh. He then told me that other people were taking pictures so I should take one, too. So I did.
He was like, How did I know you'd choose this one to take? I was like, Because I'm a good Catholic girl. Plus, it's reflective, so we're in the picture.
We spent quite some time milling around, him finding interest in some of the video and me taking copious notes so I can later on write something by stealing her words. Then, because we were near the Highline and I've never quite found the way to get up to it because any entrance I've ever approached has been closed for maintenance, we made our way a few blocks over and found an entrance and took it in. Highlights of the Highline: pretty views and I'm pretty sure I saw Jason Jones from "The Daily Show" walking with his kids. If not, then his doppleganger was toting kids around. We spent our time checking out some more free art. Also, I veered Eddie away from running up and across the benches which he thought were built in the perfect form for running up and across.
Clearly distracted by the zillion tourists crowding the place
Starving, we made our way down to the street, across town, and then uptown. Quite a walk, but worth it to use two gift cards I've had sitting around in a box for at least five years to eat at Duke's. We worked up an appetite, so when the food came (after a very confused waitress managed to take our order without messing it up--I mean you ask one question about a turkey burger and everything after that she's confused about), we ate it and ate it until there were only a few fries left.
Oh, and I had a free mini corn muffin because it was delicious and because it was delicious, I took two more home wrapped in a napkin for my parents because I'm a little old lady who takes stuff from restaurants.
After sitting back and breathing, I realized, holy crap I ate too much. Then I looked at Eddie's empty plate and said, You want dessert? He turned that down and instead said, We need to sit here for like a very long time. Having finished his burger AND fries, he pretty much couldn't move. So we sat and, inspired by such an art-filled day, we worked on our photography skills.
