Even if I was good, in spite of what Gail might say, this cannot possibly describe how good it was.
But first, some background. Music. I like music but, with the exception of some songs/artists, I wouldn’t call myself a ‘music lover’. I like what I like – some of it good and some of it, maybe, to you, bad. I wasn’t brought up in a house full of music even if my paternal grandmother taught us to play the piano (well, “play” – I say play in the loosest sense). Certainly it was not a household filled with classical music, my parents never really going in for record buying in a big way.
I found music at about the age of 13 when I was given a radio for Christmas and my maternal grandmother introduced me to Top of the Pops and, in particular, Mott the Hoople (because my mother used to sit on the same school bus as Mick Ralphs). I listened to a crackly, distorted Radio Luxembourg, late at night, under the bedclothes.
My passion was voices and, especially, the more unusual, rougher, deep voices – ones that seemed to have something to say (or sing).
And then I started to go to concerts. Many, many concerts. I loved (still love) going to concerts. There’s something about seeing someone ‘live’ that just cannot be captured by disc.
But, there was always a point in the concert (every concert) that I really disliked, almost hated. This was the part where the musicians showed off their talent with whatever instrument they played. I found (find) it boring. Improvisation – just another word for making noise. I mean I could tell they were talented but that didn’t make it enjoyable for me. It’s noise without words and, for me, a song is all about the words and the singers voice.
We were going to see Pat Metheny. F had played some tracks to me on several occasions. But ours is a new relationship and I don’t want to say that I find it rubbish (which isn’t exactly true since I can tell he has great skill – it’s just boring). He loves Pat Metheny and what he loves I love (but for entirely different reasons). I bought the tickets. €50 a pop! And I wasn’t even going to enjoy it!
And so, it was last night. At Teatro Smeraldo in Milan. OK, so I would be bored but, at least, given he was away last week and we are both away this week, we would be together and maybe have a beer and pizza or something.
I wanted to go for a beer first but he was excited and wanted to go in and take our seats. OK, I get it. I would be the same for me with someone like Joan. We go in and sit down. I got the tickets late so we are near the back but, maybe, this will be better – at least for me.
The crowd is younger (not that young but younger than me) than I expected. Full of nerdy-type people who listen to music without vocals. Ah well, it will only be a couple of hours, I say to myself.
The lights dim and the crowd, whilst not exactly going wild, cheer and clap and are obviously keen to see ‘the man’. I clap politely, as one does. I am happy for F who is very excited about this.
The man comes on looking a little like a throw-back from the 60s. He plays his guitar(s). I try not to be bored. I try to listen. It’s OK, I suppose but I can’t help thinking that a bit of vocals never really hurt any song. The songs he plays go on a little long for me. About 3 minutes too long if I am honest.
And then…………
WARNING – if you intend to see him on his latest tour, I suggest you don’t read the rest of this as you will appreciate it so much more if it is a surprise. If you’re one of those people not going to see him or who are but always find your Christmas presents before Christmas………..then carry on