Inland, Dreaming of Waves

Solo outings

Tonight was the last rehearsal for Orpheus Descending, so to amuse myself while Todd was doing that, I went to see Acoustic Eidolon perform at the Broomfield Audi. They're a husband-wife team: she plays the cello and he plays guitars with one or two necks. He went into the long explanation of why the two-neck guitar has 14 strings; all I know is, it sounded beautiful when he was picking both sets of strings.

I could go to concerts every night. Though I don't actually think of concerts as a social event because I don't go to concerts to talk, and when people around me are talking enough to drown out bits of the music, I want to duct-tape their mouths shut. Todd and I went to a Springsteen concert a few years back, and the people behind us were actually audible, which should not happen at a rock concert. But I was younger and more patient then. Now I'd just turn around and punch 'em, Krav Maga style. What's a rock concert without a brawl, anyway?

Concerts should be a religious communion with the music, or a dancing experience, and that's ALL. Now I'm not talking about gigs at bars, where most of the reason you go is to drink with friends. (Not that I can hear anyone talk at a bar, but that's another story.) But when you're paying through the nose to actually hear music, then I say, listen to it. Don't sit there and bore me with how your day was.

And I'm really not a music snob. Unlike my husband, who is a musician, I can't pick out all the separate parts or tell what the time signature is. I'm not into art rock, though I like just about anything else, including a little country like Melanie Hersch and Lucinda Williams. But mostly, as I told him once, the best music is a voice and a line. That's really all I need--to hear that, and to be held in someone's arms while the voice is singing.

posted by Price of Silence @ 9:32 PM