Last Night...

...I was here:
And because I was there last night, I am in a very good mood today.

However, I am also on a deadline at work, so I don't have much time to write this morning. Which is fine, because I mostly wanted to just brag about how I saw Andrea Bocelli live in Central Park last night.

Sure it was cold. And rainy. And there were lines. But we managed to get around that pesky, 10,000-person deep line (don't ask), the rain stopped completely after the intermission, and the show was amazing.

Great friends, great music, great night.

I'd previously seen Bocelli in Florence--years ago and with the same friends I went to Central Park with last night--when he received an award. We all crowded into the event, hoping to hear him sing.

As I remember it (and, again, I've had a couple of concussions since then), there were people all over the place, angling for position to hear one song.

However, all he did was say thank you in Italian.

Ten years later, and we finally got to hear the man sing.

Enjoying the Passage of Time

Music has been a bigger part of my life than I tend to let on here. I grew up listening to the radio with my family; I've performed in several choirs over the years; I've attended a few concerts; I have well over 11,000 songs saved to my computer, and more on CDs that I never bothered to rip. I listen to music in the car, at work, and at home when I write. Music has had a bigger impact on my life than almost anything I've ever discussed here.

Not once in the history of this blog have I written anything about my favorite artist.

I've never met the man, and about all I know about him is that he struggled with drug addictions, that he has a bunch of musical children and relatives, and that he was once married to singer Carly Simon. I know very little else about him, other than that he has been a part of my life ever since I was born.

You might have guessed by now that I'm talking about James Taylor. My parents used to sing me to sleep with his songs when I was a baby, and it's no coincidence that "Sweet Baby James" has always held a special significance for me and for my mother. No matter how my musical tastes have changed over the years, James Taylor has been one of the few artists to remain a constant. I even sound like him when I sing sometimes, or so it sounds to me.

I enjoy JT's songs for the same kinds of reasons I enjoy anyone else's songs, but his music resonates with me in a way no one else's does. There's the connection my mother and I share with his music, not just from her singing me to sleep so long ago, but from singing those same songs together as I got older, with or without JT himself backing us up.

There is a comfort in listening to the music you grew up with, and it's that much more meaningful when it reminds you of the person or people you've shared it with. I've listened to James Taylor with a lot of people, but I have particularly strong memories of sharing his music with my mother, as well as with my fiancée and a few of my friends from middle/high school.

JT's lyrics also deal with issues I can relate to, with the kind of optimistic or reflective twists that keep even the most serious topics from being unbearably heavy. Addiction is one such issue; I've never been a drug addict (I don't even drink coffee!) but I understand what it's like to struggle with being too attached to things. I'm on a lifelong journey to sort out the details of what I believe about life, the universe, and everything; JT's songs explore both the search for belief and the life lessons learned. He's also a clever songwriter with a subtle sense of humor, and I appreciate the fresh perspective he brings to his topics (something I strive to do in my own writing).

I could go on, but I think it's sufficient at this point to say that I am a fan. Not a raving, merchandise-hungry, know-it-all fan, but someone who enjoys the melodies and has a personal investment in his music.

As my high school graduation present, my father got me tickets to see James Taylor live in concert.

The world stopped for a moment.

I wasn't the only one with a ticket, though; there were enough tickets to round up a small group, which ultimately consisted of a few friends from high school. And, of course, we were not leaving for a James Taylor concert without my mother. We were all riding in her van, for one thing. Naw, y'see, even though I was going with a group of friends, at the heart of it, this was a concert for me and Mom. Sharing it with friends just made it better.

Funny things stand out in your memory, and amidst the nervous excitement (I was finding it difficult to completely suppress the fanboy within me), I remember one thing very clearly: McDonald's. We stopped in at McDonald's for a bite to eat, and it was the first time I had seen them offer their McGriddles breakfast sandwiches, with the maple syrup-infused biscuit bun things. I will forever associate McGriddles with going to see James Taylor, which is perhaps why getting breakfast on road trips is more appealing to me nowadays.

Of course, I recall other things very clearly: the outdoor arena's hillside seating with the sea of people on folding chairs and beach towels; the big screens where we watched much of the distant performance; the pure joy of being able to see my favorite musician live in concert, and to share that with my friends and family.

Even though the stage was a fair piece down the hill from where we were sitting, I still had a pretty good view of James Taylor--the man who might never realize how much he's helped to shape my life through his music. It was charming and a little amusing to see this unassuming guy in his 50's, pretty firmly planted in front of the microphone, grooving in place to the music he and his band were playing, performing with every ounce of the skill and personal investment you hear on the recordings. There might not have been laser light shows and guitars smashed on the stage, but there didn't have to be. We were there for the music, and the company, and the little bit of dialogue between songs, and we were not disappointed.

Except when they got to the end of the show and had not played "Sweet Baby James." The one song, of all the songs, to not play.

JT and his band shuffled off. The roar of applause was enough to bring JT back onstage, alone with his guitar, for one last song. If memory serves, he played "Fire and Rain." Classic. Great way to end the show. And had it ended there, I still would have been highly satisfied at a great show. But it didn't end there. We got an honest-to-goodness encore.

An encore that concluded with "Sweet Baby James."

It's hard to describe what a perfect moment in life feels like. Absolutely everything was right with the world, and there was no world beyond my mother and myself on the hillside and the man on the stage below. This last song was an encore especially for us. Moments like that go a long way in sorting out what you believe about life, the universe, and everything.

Now, whenever I have a McGriddle, I have a little flashback. The chance to see my favorite music artist. The amazing performance. The people I got to share it with. That perfect moment in life.

That's one heck of a graduation gift, and I am exceedingly grateful for it.

Con(cert) Report: Paul McCartney

As mentioned (numerous times) last week, I had the chance to see Paul McCartney perform live in concert last Friday night at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas as part of his current Up and Coming tour.

This, as anyone who reads the blog knows, was a big, big deal for me.

I've written about The Beatles before, and I think I summed up my feelings about the band way back in the very first months of Exfanding, in a post about Neil Gaiman's Sandman series.

Here's what I wrote:

John Lennon was killed before I was even born, so I never had the experience to...experience...The Beatles as my parents did. By the time I discovered them, there would be no new albums to buy, no new music to wait in anticipation for.

When I listen to The Beatles now, I know that I am listening to the greatest band in history.

And I know that, in my mind, and in the minds of many others, there will never be a better, more significant and groundbreaking group of musicians. The Beatles were, and still are, the pinnacle of rock music.

When I listen to The Beatles, I know that, and I appreciate that, and I love what I'm listening to, and I'm moved by it, and the words of John Lennon are omnipresent in my every day existence.

But, at the same time, when I hear their songs, there is a twinge of sadness. A bit of regret--maybe a little jealousy? Because, while the music will live on forever, there won't be anything new.

And, more importantly, there won't be anything better.

Now, what all that had to do with Neil Gaiman's Sandman? Well, you'll just have to go back and read the entire article to find out.

But, honestly, I still feel that way about The Beatles, and I think I'll always feel that way. Their songs link me and you to the generation that came before, and to our parents and their times.

Blackbird links us all to the struggles of the Civil Rights Movement and Come Together is still as relevant now as it was then.

Beatles songs transcend time and manage--somehow--to bridge that staggering gap between generations in America today. As I sat down in my seat (it was pretty high up, but I could still see Sir Paul, and I could certainly hear him just fine), I looked around.

In the row behind me was a family of four; mother, father, and two kids in their tweens. To my right was a man in his 40s with his teenaged son. To my left was a group of friends in their 20s. Standing in line to get into the show, I noticed an elderly Chinese couple, most likely in their 80s, who didn't speak a word of English.

Transcendent, indeed.

People who know anything at all about me know how I feel about organized religion. I won't get into those feelings here, because a blog is certainly not the place for such things. (Especially one that focuses on topics like Batman and Darth Vader toasters.)

But I will say this: Seeing Paul McCartney made me realize something. As I sat there, the unmistakable chords of The Long and Winding Road echoing through the arena, a thought flashed right through my mind.

These songs are my prayers; these songs are my psalms.

Hey Jude. Let It Be. Yesterday.

I wasn't alive when The Beatles were together, I wasn't yet born when John Lennon was taken from the world.

But I was there the night that Paul played Here Today, a song he wrote for John just months after his death, with Yoko Ono and Sean and Julian Lennon sitting (standing, and clapping, and smiling) in the audience.

"It's the conversation we didn't get to have," Paul explained. And then he started to sing.

The crowd--the rowdy, raucous Las-Vegas-on-a-Friday-night crowd--was stone cold silent as the most famous voice in the world filled the arena.

I felt (and still feel, as I type this) a chill run the course of my body and a tear well up in my eyes.

In front of those eyes, Paul McCartney was singing to John Lennon.

My goodness.

Friday with Ferrell

As previously mentioned on Ye Olde Blogge, this past Tuesday I ventured into the city (New York City, that is) to see Will Ferrell's one man show on Broadway, You're Welcome America. A Final Night With George W. Bush.

As the title suggests, the show is Ferrell's extended impersonation of our 43rd President. Over the course of its hour-plus running time, Ferrell gets up and presents the major events and people of the Bush administration's eight years in office, and he does so with the absurdity and hilarity that his fans have come to expect from him.

The performance is pure, unadulterated satire, but the tone of the show changes constantly. It is, at times, scathing in its condemnation of the former Commander in Chief and the policies of his administration, but then there are moments of such absurd levity that all the audience can do, no matter what one's politics may be, is...well...laugh out loud for prolonged periods of time.

I mean, it's Will Ferrell!

Over the course of the show, Ferrell ostensibly plays "dress up the former President," as he uses incredibly funny scene breaks to run backstage and get changed into different examples of Bush's attire through the years. For example, here's "Camp David W":


And "Mission Accomplished W":

See, it's like a George W. Bush action figure, only funnier. Anyway, back to the show. Ferrell mixes completely fictional stories of the President's youth with cringe-worthy historical moments and actual quotes to create a...well...a portrait, let's say, of the man known as W.

As for my overall take on the show, lemme just slip into my critic hat for a second and say something incredibly cliched--It's a raunchy, laugh-a-minute thrill ride. There. I've always wanted to write something that inane (and yes, I know you can argue that I write something just as inane every time I post to this blah blah blah).

But seriously folks. Here's my real take on You're Welcome. I enjoyed it. Quite a bit. I laughed almost continuously through the show, and I could have stood to watch another hour of the performance. Ferrell's comedy is always dubbed as immature and childish, and as some have noted, "all he does in his movies is take his clothes off and run around." And, while that's pretty accurate, it's always funny when he does so.

That said, Ferrell doesn't take his clothes off during this show, and he doesn't rely on physical comedy (though there is some of that) to get your laughs. Instead, the comedian shows just how politically aware he is in his satirical shots at Bush, going for both subtle jabs at real life decisions and windmill punches at hyperbolic Bush back story.

In my opinion, Ferrell really shines in the performance's last leg, when he displays how quick-witted he is with an ad-libbed interaction with audience members wherein he gives people nicknames (as Bush often did with White House staffers) based on first name and occupation.

Trust me, it's pretty hysterical.

Now, I don't want to give too much more away, because this weekend, HBO will air Ferrell's final performance, Saturday night at 9:00. If you're a Ferrell fan, this is must see television, and if you're into political comedy and you just flat out need a good laugh, then give this show a shot.

That's it for today, so Happy Friday everyone!