Concert Diaries Chapter 31 ~ So Much Magic

It's the end of the Andy Grammer/Gavin DeGraw tour.  These bands outdid any previous performance I'd seen of them (and I've seen a lot).  I can't help but look back on the experiences of the last few months and relive some of the magic.

We (my PIC, Phyllis, and I) started calling October the magic month.  I often say I'm geographically blessed when it comes to concert attendance.  Northern New Jersey is less than an hour from New York, less than three hours from Philadelphia, five hours from Boston ... we can be anywhere in less than a day's drive.  Whomever booked the Andy Grammer/Gavin DeGraw tour scheduled so many shows within easy driving ... and we went to them all including some bonus magic at the end.

Why would I attend so many concerts by the same artist?  It's hard to explain.  If you know, you know.  For me, it's because he changed my life and when I'm in the same room as he, whether he's the opening act or headlining, I'm the most fully alive that I think I've ever been.  I feel things again.  I'm clear about myself.  I feel strong and confident and profoundly happy and all the stress of my "real" life tumbles away--not just for the hour of the show, but for days and weeks at a time.

And no, the shows aren't all the same.  There are always surprises, on and off the stage.  Because of the magic.

Even though October held the most magic, our story began in August with the opening night of the "DeGrammer" tour, in Bethel, New York.  The site of the original Woodstock Festival proved to be the perfect place to start the magic.  I was captivated by the Woodstock museum on the property and could have spent the entire day there remembering the music of that time and wondering at the extensive influence the event had for years after the festival.  I was haunted in a romantic way by the ghosts of the space we were in since I'm old enough remember Woodstock and the history of the place was not lost on me.


Both Gavin (born nearby) and Andy (raised nearby) had lots of stories and memories to share (or overshare).  They had lots of family and friends in attendance and the night felt very special with those ghosts and memories filling the air.  The set lists of both artists were a fan's dream come true and Gavin's inclusion of a short acoustic interlude was a perfect surprise.



Our next show was in Shelbeyville, Delaware on the Maryland border.  We had a relaxing drive down while listening to dreadful weather reports which, unfortunately were accurate.  After spending the night in Ocean City, we learned the outdoor concert was cancelled due to Hurricane Hermine.  We drove out of the area in high winds and rain but soon found ourselves under magical blue skies, looking forward to October.  Even a cancelled show can be part of the adventure, the memories, the magic.

Gavin and Andy donuts from Broad
 Street Dough Co. in Oakhurst

Reading came next, the first of the magic October shows.  We started this adventure by driving a couple hours out of our way to pick up donuts for the band.  Specially made to order, they were rather outrageous confections that I doubted our health conscious guys would indulge in but it was fun to deliver them.  We arrived in town, starving, and headed to the only place we knew of near the theatre, Mezcal's Restaurant. We'd been there for drinks the last time Gavin played in Reading.  Much to our surprise, when the waitress led us to a table right beside where members of Gavin's and Andy's bands were sitting.  I teased them about being in "our" restaurant and we chatted for a bit before turning to our menus.  We wished them an awesome show as they left.  We had a meet and greet with Gavin that night.  We climbed to the top of the old theater with my arthritis protesting each stair.  It was as thrilling to meet him again as it was the first time.  We had a lot of fun delivering the overloaded donuts and explaining that they were named for him and Andy.  We took several pictures and I could have talked for an hour.   The Reading show was truly fantastic.  It was our first show with Wrabel who was opening most of the nights on this tour.  He was lovely, talented, authentic and his songs were poetry.  Both Andy's and Gavin's sets were as exciting as they had been opening night.

Right after Reading, Phyllis received the email.  The magic email telling her that she'd won a trip to Las Vegas to see Gavin DeGraw in concert complete with a VIP meeting.  Even more magic for me when she invited me to go with her.  There were lots of details to be ironed out, paperwork she needed to complete and it would be a few days before the trip would be really confirmed.  We began to make plans.  Plans on top of the plans we already had.

A few days after the magic of Reading and prize-winning emails,

Kelly Ripa & Carrie Ann Inaba
greeting Andy after his
performance.

we took a sunrise train to New York.  It was a full day of fun with our bands.  We'd had tickets to The Kelly Show, betting that either Gavin or Andy would make an appearance, finding out later it would be Andy Grammer and his band on the show that day.  Gavin was appearing on the show in a second taping to be aired the next day.  We had to be up near Columbus Circle at the ABC studios before 7:30.  That was the first hour+ spent in lines that day.  The show was fun and Andy's performance was indicative of all his live performances--high energy, infectious and authentic.  Once the cameras were off, the infamous producer, Michael Gellman, said there were seats available for the next show.  Of course we ran around the side of the building and got in line and were ushered into the studio again.  Unfortunately, Gavin cancelled at the last minute and did not appear.  We didn't know it at the time, but he wasn't feeling well.  We would learn more about that in the days ahead.

The concert that night at the Hammerstein Ballroom was exciting.  The sold-out crowd was a little pushy and we weren't in the front row (second row fabulous that night) but the kind front row nurses (they were all nurses) that we became friends with made room for this arthritic older fan and I leaned on the barricade for the last half of the show.  Gavin surprised the crowd by added another new song from the latest album to the setlist:  You Make My Heart Sing Louder.  He told us it was his mom's favorite and dedicated his performance of it to her.  Her love beamed back at him from where she stood in the balcony.  Lots of our old friends were in attendance that night and we became fast friends with new people as well.  As I've mentioned many times in this space, this is one of the magical benefits of following this singer--the friends I've made ... both in person and in social media.  The concert that night was another beautiful example of the excitement and energy the filled the stage every night of this tour.

Thanking service men & women.

Wrabel

The next day I was off to Boston to visit my daughter in her new apartment and to show my mom where her granddaughter lives and works.  Knowing she wouldn't have two days off in a row, I bought a ticket to see the Boston stop of the tour.  In the ancient Orpheum Theater I had my second meet and greet, met Andy's bass player Zach Rudolph and saw my fourth show of the tour.  I saw lots of friends scattered around the room.  The old theatre's rows were tight and the seats held together with duct tape in some cases.  I wondered about all the artists who'd appeared there over the years.  My fourth row seat was as close as first row in some theaters.  One magical moment occurred when Andy Grammer snuck onto the stage where opener Stephen Wrabel was laying his whole heart as he always does.  He actually admonished the audience to be quiet for Stephen's last song, a beautiful new ballad destined for his next record.  Andy said he wanted to be able to hear a pin drop.  Thank you Andy!  It's hard to understand how and why people talk through the openers.  There were quite a few enlisted men and women and veterans in the audience that night.  An amazing authentic moment of these shows has been Gavin's recognizing of these men and women and thanking them publicly for their service.

The day after the Boston getaway, Phyllis arrived for what we had thought would be the rest of the October shows ... Sayreville and Morristown in New Jersey and finally, Philadelphia.

High energy from the Andy Grammer crew.

Front row for Gavin.

The Starland Ballroom is one of my least favorite venues, it's tight and people get pushy.  It was a general admission show so we arrived early.  Really early.  But we had parking pass tickets which meant we'd get in early, after the VIP ticket holders.  My favorite radio station, WPLJ, showed up with snacks for the fans in line.  I'd wound up with an extra ticket for the show (long story) so another concert friend of mine joined us and by some miracle, we wound up front row in front of bassist, James Cruz and drummer, Mike Baker.  We were enchanted with Wrabel once again.  Andy Grammer was amazing as always.  He invited each of his band members to take solos during "You Can Do This."  They, and we, were totally surprised.  By now I'd heard his new song (as yet unrecorded) enough times to remember a lot of the words.  It's a stunningly beautiful song about sharing your authentic self with the important people in your life ... all of yourself, not just the comfy, cozy parts.  It brings me to tears every time.

Post show.

Gavin delivered his usual heartfelt performance with funny stories.  One of the most magical moments of our night at Starland was the impromptu duet of Gavin and a friend of his from his early days when he performed in bars and clubs in New York.  John Breedlove joined him on stage and they sang Sam Cooke's A Change is Going to Come. It was a very special moment.   One of the truly unique things about Gavin is how willing he is to share the stage with other people.  His kindness and generosity are unfailing. He was genuinely thrilled to see his old friend and was enthusiastic in his introduction.  Later, in the parking lot, we had the opportunity to speak to John for a few moments.  He confirmed what we've always known:  that Gavin is as loving and loyal in real life as he comes across on stage.  After the show, he came down and greeted fans and took pictures.  More magic.

I was so looking forward to the Morristown show.  I grew up in Morristown and was excited for my favorite band to be in my favorite town in a theater where I watched movies in high school.  I will confess we could have slept in, taken it slow since it was a seated show and no early lining up was necessary but we actually went to town for lunch and spent time in the park (more properly, "The Green" if you're from these parts) as the day was really beautiful and we thought our favorite guys might be out and about.  They weren't and in fact, Gavin's bus was no where to be seen.  Andy Grammer tweeted that he'd hidden tickets somewhere outside the theater so since no one else was looking for them, we did.  Phyllis found them but our seats were better so she taped them back into the hiding place.  They were still there after the show.  Apparently no one in Morristown is on Twitter besides me.  That was the night we heard Gavin was ill with a really bad upper respiratory infection.  We watched as his bus pulled in without much time to spare.  Stephen Wrabel was out on the sidewalk doing Facebook Live.  We waited a few minutes and then struck up a conversation. It was nice to be able to tell him how much we enjoyed getting to know him and his music.  We took some pictures and then it was time to go inside.

Phyllis takes a selfie with Greg.

Our seats were in the 7th row, good but not great, on the guitar and keys side for a change.  That was also the night that hardly anyone stood and no one danced.  I wrote a separate story about that here.  That was the time that although I was in row 7, it felt like front row--a different sort of magic.  Between the sets, we spoke with Andy's guitarist, Greg Karas for a few minutes.  I asked him how they keep up the pace, with very few days off on this tour.  He replied, "we were born to do this."  I believe him.

A heartfelt hug for a blast from the past.

You'd never have known Gavin was ill (until the end of the show when he didn't perform his usual encores).  He was charming and energetic and sang his heart out as well as any other time I'd heard him.  At one point a woman approached the stage with her phone in the air.  I wondered where security was as she walked right up to the stage where he was telling a story.  It turned out she'd gone to summer camp with him when they were 11 years old.  They been at the same bus stop together all summer.  Big hugs ensued as we witnessed the mini reunion.  It was a magical moment.

The next day we were off to Philadelphia--early since we had to stand in line.  Despite the date (mid October), it was 80 degrees so the five hours we waited, chatting with the folks we were in line with were hot and steamy.  The Fillmore is a unique venue with rusty old gates out front and a very modern vibe inside. Somehow we got separated while we were checking in.  I wound up in the front row at the end of the stage but Phyllis and our friend, Rebecca, wound up towards the middle near the front.  I need that rail, especially after so many late nights, long lines and hours of dancing.  I could hear my knees protesting loudly.  We loved this show too.  It was fun to see looks of recognition from many of the guys in the band. After the show, when he came down to greet fans, Gavin asked me if I'd had a good time that night (of course!!) and I asked him how he was feeling.  He was still pretty sick, he said (actually he said "I feel like crap.")  Again, you'd never have known.  If it's possible to admire him more, I do.  Powering through those shows was probably difficult.  I have had some experience with respiratory infections.  I have no idea how he was singing through the pain of whatever was plaguing his lungs but he did.  (Later we'd learn he'd contracted walking pneumonia.  Towards the end of the tour he was so sick, he did have to cancel a couple of shows which must have been a very hard decision for him to make.)

Curtain call at the Fillmore.

The next day it was back to work in the hazy dream-like state of concert high.  Make that multiple concert highs.  We'd thought our adventure would end in Philadelphia but the best magic was yet to take place--in Las Vegas.  But that's a separate story.  If you're curious, you can read it here.

Our fall adventures were filled to the brim with our favorite music, chance meetings with some of our favorite artists, scheduled meetings with Gavin, renewing friendships and making new ones at every show with hugs and smiles and stories and photos.  I had filled my tank with the energy that only comes from these experiences and the magic that accompanies them.  Nearly a month later, the concert high lingers, the happiness permeates most every minute* and since there is another concert to come in December, there is more magic to come.

*the election results notwithstanding ...

The Whole Shebang ~ Another Gavin DeGraw Weekend (A SummerFun Chapter)

I can't wait to visit this venue in Hyannis again.

 It was a rather epic weekend.  Road trip to Massachusetts, 3 concerts, visiting my daughter, meeting lots of friends.  Days later, it's all jumbled together in my head:  one whole shebang*.

The week had started out with some disappointing news ... my daughter (a restaurant manager) would have no time off while I was in Boston because it was restaurant week.  She would not be able to go to the concerts either.  She indulges me once a year.  And this year I'd purchased meet and greets for us both.  I had my heart set on her meeting Gavin DeGraw so she'd know first hand what I know--how genuine and lovely he is in person.  I called the hotel and cancelled three of my five nights and regrouped.  I knew Phyllis had tickets for some of the same shows and was so happy when she agreed to travel with me for the three days.  I was still hoping for a last minute reprieve for my daughter too ...

The drive was slow ... an hour to get over the George Washington Bridge alone.   Texting with my daughter as we went, she confirmed she was working at both restaurants until past midnight.  I told her we'd be drop in to The Marliave for a late lunch to see her and would miss her company at the concert.  And that is how Nicole came to join us at the Blue Hills Pavilion harborside in Boston.  Let no ticket go unused ...

Walk Journals: September 14 (Walking is Good for the Heart)

I'm walking in Boston today.  I arrived late yesterday afternoon for a weekend getaway.  It's MixFest 2013, a free concert in the park sponsored by Mix 104.1, a Boston radio station.  I was here last year too.  Because, if you haven't guessed by now, Gavin DeGraw is one of the performers.  But that's for a different set of thoughts and impressions ...

I'm looking forward to spending time with my daughter too.  But she's pretty busy, having started a new job this week.

I'd wanted to walk last night when I arrived but just as I checked in, it began to pour.  My hotel is attached to a shopping mall ... so that's where I walked.  Except that shopping doesn't qualify aerobically and carrying bags isn't exactly weight training.

So I roust myself out of bed early for a Saturday and set off for the Public Garden, my favorite place to stroll.  Along the way, I pass Tico, the restaurant where my daughter had worked until recently.  I've eaten there a few times now and I really like the menu.  It's one of several restaurants owned by chef Michael Schlow and even though she's not with that restaurant group any more, I'll likely continue to drop in for margueritas and lobster tacos.  And the fried manchego cheese.  No wonder I need these walks ...

In the park I head for the 9/11 Memorial.  It's only a couple of days past the anniversary and so it's only fitting that I spend a minute or two there.  When I come upon the low granite wall with all of the names of local people who perished in New York that day, I am unprepared for the flowers and wreathes that are lovingly placed there.  I don't know why ... of course there'd be lots of flowers this week.  There are often small bunches of flowers left there but I've never seen the whole wall lined with them like this.  I stop to photograph the name of the one whose name is inscribed here whom I knew.  His family attended my church.  I remember his rambunctious, smart, curious boys--they were so little then.  They must be teenagers now.  Maybe in college.  I offer a silent prayer for them and their mom.

Making my way to the other end of the park, I glance up at the Four Seasons, wondering if my favorite singer is staying there.  I'm not sure but I have my suspicions--forensic tweet reading from last year points that way.  I'm listening to the song he released this week as I walk, Who's Gonna Save Us.  Standing at the traffic light, waiting to cross over to the Boston Common I notice a lady glancing sideways at me.  Suddenly I realize I'm singing along.  Aloud.  As in out loud.  Loud being the operative word.  I shrug.  This isn't the first time people have been unwittingly been subjected to my voice (which actually isn't that bad ...).  Although I majored in music, I went out of my way to not sing--especially solo--the entire four years I was in college.  I've just never felt that strong in the vocal department.

Narrow old steps lead from street level up to The Marliave

I pass through the Common.  It's not as pretty as the Public Garden but hugely historic.  Little shelters are being set up for some community event and food vendors are already grilling giant slabs of meat and more.  There are homeless folks sleeping in small groups everywhere.  It's disheartening to see but Boston is no different than any other community and we, as a people, haven't given the issue of homelessness the attention it needs and deserves.  I think I'm headed in the direction of my daughter's new place of employment, The Marliave.  But, even though I'm a Girl Scout Leader, I head off in two wrong directions before deciphering the map in my phone correctly.  Good thing I've never had to teach orienteering.  I finally find the right route and before long I'm standing in front of a really old building in one of the oldest parts of town.  The Marliave is a French restaurant named for it's founder, a Parisian immigrant who opened the establishment in 1885.  It's in a narrow street, Province Street, once known as Governor's Alley as it was the route between the Statehouse, a block or two away, and the residence of the Governor of the Massachusetts Colony before the Revolution.  I marvel at my daughter's opportunity to be working in such a historic venue--at all the ghosts that must linger in these cobblestone streets.

The tomb of Paul Revere

While finding the restaurant I'd passed the historic Granary Burying Ground where Paul Revere is buried.  I decide to take a side trip through the site and learn that several signers of the Declaration of Independence, Samuel Adams, Ben Franklin's parents and many other folks of historic significance are buried there too.  The headstones are tightly packed with tiny child-sized headstones layered close to their parents'. It's a beautiful place filled with stories of the ones who conceived our country and stood up for their experiment called democracy.  It's a place that forces you to be grateful for those men and women who've shared their lives in public service, whether historical or quietly local.  One large tablet simply read:  Freeman Tomb, 1807 Benj. Bangs.  It's positioned right next to Paul Revere's.

Prayers for peace.
Pray for peace.

Looking at my watch, I realize there's not much time before I have to get ready for the concert so I hurry back through the Common and Public Garden.  Across from the Garden is Arlington Street Church, a Unitarian Universalist Congregation.  The church was completed in 1861 and was the first public building in the Back Bay neighborhood of Boston.  I'm struck by the hundreds of ribbons tied to the old wrought iron fence that surrounds the church (like many of Boston's beautiful churches).  Randomly I read a few.  They're all tributes to those affected by the bombings the day of the Boston Marathon; they are prayers for peace, for love and for a future free from fear.  Toward the end of the fence, a plastic bag filled with blank ribbons hangs along with a bucket of pens.  It's an invitation for all of us to add our prayers.  I don't stop to add a ribbon but for the second time today, I offer up a silent petition for peace and understanding.

Four and a half miles.  Pretty comfortable ones with barely a trace of sciatic trouble.  Four and a half miles packed with significance, history, proud feelings for someone I love dearly.  Meaningful miles today.

Gosh, I love Boston.

One Perfect Day

Loads of years ago, I read a book that changed the way I perceive time.  It's called Receiving the Day by Dorothy C. Bass.  It's the only book I've read with a highlighter as an adult.  It taught me to think of every day intentionally as a gift.  Bass speaks about the ordered rhythms of each day and how to tune in and really live in each moment.

Here's the part that really profoundly changed how I think about how I want to live my life--it has to do with the Hebrew concept of what is a "day" ... beginning in the evening:

The first part of the day passes in darkness, then, but not in inactivity.  God is out growing the crops even before the farmer is up and knitting together the wound before the clinic opens.  When farmer and physician awake, they will join in, contributing mightily, but only because grace came first.  Likewise, God has been working on and in them, body and mind, while they slept; yesterday's bruises and slights have begun to heal.  Entered this way, morning is new, worth being grateful for even before we have put our human touches on it.

When you think about the day beginning in evening, when you're more apt to slow down and eventually quiet down altogether in sleep, it changes how you see everything.  You realize that waking and working is not the first order of activity and it puts business (busy-ness) in perspective.  It places realtionships, gratitude and grace at the forefront.  It allows renewal in relaxation and rest to be the catalyst for the day rather than the often frantic beginning of days that get started with alarm clocks and racing: to work, to get children to school, to complete too many errands in too short a time.

I feel I've rarely been successful at living this practice--this way of thinking.  I think about it a lot but mostly fail to actually live this way, much as I might yearn to.  Sometimes I consciously try and do succeed, and once in a while, a day will naturally flow from evening to evening and I realize again the wisdom in this rhythm.

I had just such a day last week.  In Boston to visit my daughter, we had an amazing dinner at the first restaurant she worked in while still in school.  It's called Via Matta, a lovely Italian restaurant in the Back Bay.  It's one of several of the restaurants owned by Chef Michael Schlow.  She's currently working between two of his other places, Tico and Barrio Cantina.  There were four us at dinner and we opted for the tasting menu.  The chef prepared many courses of tastes of what he thought we'd enjoy.  We ate magnificent food for what seemed like hours with wine and spirits to go with each course.  The conversation centered mainly on food with my younger foodie companions--pure appreciation for the gifts of these ingredients and the talent that created every plate (thank you Chef Leo!)  My daughter and her friends all work in high-end hospitality venues, restaurants and hotel, and they have a lot of knowledge and appreciation for food that's done well.  It was a meal I'll not soon forget--lovely food and lovelier company.  A relatively simple pleasure elevated ....

The following day at the suggestion of my daughter's friend, I made my way to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in the Fenway neighborhood of Boston.  This incredible building is the realization of a dream of one woman with a stupendous art collection and a desire to share it with the world.  It's impossible to describe the perfection of the combination of architecture and objects that culminate in this place.  Mrs. Gardner brought back so many treasures and works of art from her world travels that only this 3-story palazzo could house them.  At the heart of the space is a courtyard.  When I entered the first floor and stood in the courtyard, I recognized immediately that this would be a memorable afternoon and the beauty of the place would fill my mind for a long time to come.  I'm not a poet or a writer so I'll never find the right words to describe or properly explain the absolutely visceral reaction I had as I explored each succeeding space.  Never before have I been moved to tears by a place.

Mrs. Gardner focused her collecting on those objects and artifacts that fired her imagination, eventually collecting over 25,000 paintings, sculptures, objects d'art, furnishings and textiles.  She arranged them in three floors of gallery spaces in "installations" that were pleasing to her and make utterly perfect sense.  They could not be anywhere but where she placed each one.  Most of the galleries open onto the courtyard, affording a constantly changing perspective of the art-filled garden space.  In the changing light of day, it is its own artwork.

Much of the art found in the museum is religious in nature and from the Renaissance.  But there are pieces from ancient Egypt and others from the 20th century, particularly Impressionist works.  Isabella Stewart Gardner was a patron of John Singer Sargent and portraits he painted of her are hung among the carefully thought out rooms.

I hope everyone who visits Boston has a chance to see this awe-inspiring place at least once.  I can't wait to return.  It was the most spiritual experience I've ever had in a man-made (woman-made) place and yes, I've been to lots of religious spaces and places, including the Vatican.  I think it was because the spirit and generous nature of Isabella Steward Gardner still lives throughout the building, because you can feel how much she wants you to appreciate and understand the messages, cultures and history represented by the objects she collected.

It was 24 hours of grace and appreciation that I will not soon forget.  The sensory joy I experienced that day, evening to evening, was beyond anything I'd planned or could have imagined.  

Concert Diaries Chapter Nine ~ Oh Hell No ...

Am I tired of this setlist yet?

Oh hell no!

Am I tired of any of the setlists for this tour?

Oh hell no!

Okay, well maybe a little Script goes a long way for me ... I definitely would have preferred seeing Michael Franti at every performance rather than The Script.

If it's Saturday, it must be Boston, or what Ticketmaster calls Boston in order to make people believe they're going to a concert in Boston.  I fell for it.  But no, (oh hell no?), make that over an hour south of Boston in the woods of Mansfield. The Comcast Center.  Loud Chick had issues with getting us out of the city so we had a scenic tour of Roxbury and definitely a most circuitous route to spice up our ride.

My daughter lives just outside of Boston and I'm on vacation this week to visit her.  We're off to the Mermaids of Alcatraz tour tonight because as her mother, I feel duty-bound to expose her to my impeccable taste in music.  I meant that as a joke but as I think about it, it's pretty true.  She's seen a lot of Broadway, had piano and flute lessons, sang for years with the Girls' Choir at St. Peter's and had some fantastic performance and touring opportunities with that group.  She marched in her high school marching band and played concert band as well so she's been exposed to a wide range music from Bach to Bruce, from Gilbert and Sullivan to Aida performed live amongst ruins in Rome and to her favorite classic rock bands like Pink Floyd and my favorite whom we will see tonight (my twelfth time, her second).  It's Gavin DeGraw time, once again.

We're pretty far back but this venue has a very nice incline to it so the sight lines are okay.  They're okay for someone who can see.  My eyesight is in the middle-aged not-so-great stage.  But that's okay, somehow I'm able to focus just fine when those first chords strike and the guys in the band (I can't call them boys like he does--they're all grown men and one is older than him) take the stage.  Gavin had posted earlier in tweets and vines that he was on vocal rest for a horribly sore throat.  I wondered earlier if he would have to cancel his scheduled meet and greets in order to stay rested.  Like the true professional he is, however, he made those fans happy by keeping the appointments, although, according to one friend's tweet, he whispered his way through them. 

You would not have known he was under the weather from the performance he gave last night.  Yes, the same set list as I'd heard twice this summer already but I cannot grow tired of it.  Oh hell no.  It is a joy to watch him perform in person, moving easily through the crowd and gaining many fans, I'm sure, with every song he sings.  The people around us are fans too so there are no issues this time with standing and singing.  Thank goodness--it was a beautiful night and I needed to be on my feet.  The couple in front of us were on their feet too--but they were not too steady.  I'm not sure what it is but both Boston-area concerts we've been to, we've had to deal with drunken people in front of us.  Both of us found this person rather amusing but her loud screams were pretty wearing on the nerves after a while.

Since I'd missed the first few songs from The Script on Tuesday night, I made sure I was in my seat for the start of their set.  It started with an animated opening projected on screens much like the opening of Train's set on opening night.  It was hard to hear but I imagine if you were a Script fan and knew their music, it made sense.  To me it looked like an eye test but I'm sure it had something to do with the album title, Science and Faith.  They are a band with a lot of energy and there are a couple of songs that I do truly enjoy.  I find though, that their songs all sound somewhat alike and one song in particular, which is apparently a huge hit judging from the crowd reaction, really grates on my nerves.  They also chugged beer on stage and used a fair amount of the "f" word.  Since this tour has attracted so many families (lots of families enjoy Train together), I thought that they should have been more cognizant of who was in the audience.  There were a fair number of children and they had to have known that.  Language doesn't bother me at all; I'm just saying I think a band that is so revered by teens and preteens ought not to be glorifying drinking to excess with cursing.  "If you're not fucking drunk, you're not fucking drinking enough," was the line that really bothered me.  This is not to say I didn't enjoy them; they were okay.

The set change for Train took a while as I knew it would.  The couple in front of us were enjoying themselves enormously even screaming for the recorded music that plays between sets.  We could tell that some of the people around us were getting more than a little annoyed. 


Finally, the San Francisco fog began to blow across the stage, the whistle bellowed and Train began their show.  I have to admit having now seen them three times this summer:  they've got me.  I'm a fan.  The music is easy to understand even with all the complicated words in some of the lyrics.  You can't help but get involved.  Pat Monahan is a generous performer taking photos of himself with the cameras of fans while singing, pitching t-shirts into the audience and walking out into the crowd to sing "Marry Me."  Marry Me makes me sad every time I hear it.  Every couple in the crowd becomes obviously "coupled" and it has the effect of making a single person feel quite alone--at least this single person.  Tonight, a couple in the front row became engaged while Pat was singing "Mary Me." 


I want to tweet to Pat Monahan.  When you go to the same concert a few times you hear the same "banter" over and over.  Out on Long Island on Tuesday he told the New York crowd that he expected big participation on the song, Save Me San Francisco, because New York invented the term "Oh hell no," which is part of the lyric.  At the time I thought that was kind of neat, recognizing the tough New Yorker crowd.  Except that Saturday night he's said the same thing to the Boston folks.  I expect if I'd made it to the Sunday show in New Jersey, I'd have heard that New Jersey invented "oh hell no."  So who came up with that phrase?  Don't ask Pat ... he's not sure ...

At some point someone must have complained about the loud gyrating woman and her husband because some venue security came and escorted them away. We felt kind of bad for them--they weren't as bad as the guy in front of us last year--but after they left I had a really clear shot of the stage so I was able to take a lot of pictures.

Pat came out for the encore performances with a Boston t-shirt on.  It's clear that people are still very much tuned in to the Marathon tragedy which is completely understandable.  An event of that magnitude will hover just below the surface of the consciousness of a community for a long time--maybe forever.  I can't see the New York skyline without thinking of September 11--every single time.  The crowd appreciated Pat's gesture.  After singing Drops of Jupiter, the song he wrote following his mom's death, he asks Ashley Monroe, Gavin and Danny to join him for The Weight again.  Gavin was wearing a grey sweater over a yellow shirt.  At first I thought the sweater was due to his not feeling well but he unzipped it to reveal a Boston Strong t-shirt with the now familiar blue and yellow logo.  There was a huge roar of appreciation for him.

I wish I could tell if my daughter really enjoys these forays into my music world or if she's just indulging her mom.  We bought Gavin and Train shirts tonight (for both of us).  I think that's a good sign.  She wouldn't wear a shirt she didn't like.  We've seen Bruce together--it was easy to tell she was excited to be there.  (Although, I fail to see how anyone could not be excited at a Springsteen show.  It's an event unto itself.)  I can't expect everyone I love to be the die-hard Gavin DeGraw fan that I've become.  Can I?  Oh hell no.  Except that I do...

~

Post script ... Sunday night found me hanging with family instead of at the concert in Holmdel.  Some things take precedence.