Finally got the chance to watch them live tonight.
So. Good.
Though it was annoying when a random drunk kid asked if he could be onstage to drink their whisky. Which he did, much to the band’s confusion and perplexity. And despite the kid buying a replacement drink for the one he gulped down in the back as Guster played a song, I still thought it was rude.
But Guster was awesome! Made me love all their music all over again.
Who knew there were so many girls? And loud — LOUD — ones too. Ow my ears.
Sam was great though.
Two years ago, I missed Rufus Wainwright’s show on October 5th. A few days later, I remembered the show being sometime in October. Hopefully, it won’t have already passed. I mean, the probability is on my side. But alas, I was wrong, and having neglected to write it in my agenda earlier, I missed it. As a longtime fan — I grew up on his music — I was so crushed at having missed my chance to see him.
Earlier this year, I found out that Mr. Wainwright was to be coming to Vancouver again, and promptly bought my ticket well in advance. I tacked it to my bulletin board. I made a note of it on my agenda. I was totally set to go.
Fast forward to tonight. It’s 7:30pm and I’m reading up on some articles on Snowpiercer (I watched it earlier today) and opened up my agenda to make a note of something for later this week. I flipped over the page from last week to this week to see, in my huge scrawl, RUFUS WAINWRIGHT 8PM VOGUE.
I stared at the date. I whipped my head to my computer to look at the time. Then back to my agenda.
Is today… Wait, it’s today? IT’S TODAY?!?! FUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!
I ran to the bus stop. I ran off the bus to the skytrain station. I ran off the skytrain station to the venue (needless to say, my legs were giving out on me, especially having done a one-hour bootcamp class yesterday). And got there at 8:20. I missed his first song (and presumably, his intro).
But man, it was an awesome show.
Why must the universe almost make me miss my favourite gay musician? Again?!
To think I was put off by the $110 ticket to watch you live (although I agree with the husband of the couple sitting next to me who complained, “$110 for a ticket? We should be sitting in the front row!”). How could I have even thought about missing a show from the most important musician in my life since I first heard “Building a Mystery” way back when? Oh, Sarah. Forgive me for my hesitance until the day before to finally give in and buy the experience to hear you hit the crazy-high notes on “Fear”, to have my eardrums blasted out on several songs, and then be invited along with the rest of the audience to sing “Ice Cream.”
I’ve missed out on so much. At least if tonight proves anything, it’s that you’re not a god after all. Or at least paying $110 to watch a god is a pretty good deal.
Instead of writing your play, you want another Studio Ghibli marathon at the Pacific Cinematheque like the did last year (and earlier this year).
Also, you realize just how extraordinary and amazing this man is.
Normally, I highly dislike Top 40 songs because they’re simply terrible, but for some reason, this song won’t leave my mind. The melody is just so good, and the lyrics are surprisingly distinct. This version is my favourite because, well, it’s the best. The produced version should be a remix, not the other way around.
Oh. And I learned to play this on the piano today.
It happened again. I “got” another song, and it just broke my heart when I sang it because it`s exactly how I feel and it`s what I`ve always been struggling to deal, especially this month: loneliness and feeling like people just let go of me, and I take no part in it.
I still wonder what it`s all about.
I just discovered Mr. Gabe Dixon via an episode of Parks and Recreation, and I gotta say, I wish I could improvise and play like him. To me, he’s the blues version of Jamie Cullum, but a bit less crazy/eccentric. If I had the choice to either learn how to improvise or play Classical music, I’d pick improvising. It’s just so much freer and way more impressive to me. I’ve been trying to improvise more, and it’s really difficult sometimes. I will probably never be able to play so free and fearlessly as Gabe Dixon or Jamie Cullum, but alas. It’s times like these when I think my ARCT Diploma in Piano Performance means shit. Which it basically does anyway.
Randomly thought of this song while having dim sum earlier. It’s yet another one of those songs that, years after hearing and playing it, finally makes the impact in the words and music that it ought to. It all makes sense now (ie. it makes me cry). Is this a good thing? That’s still up for debate.
Wanted to post this one. It’s from my reading at thrilLITERATE last week, the last one I read.
A friend didn’t understand the poem and although I could attribute it to his innocence and general naiviety about the world outside of his farm, perhaps there are others who don’t get it. To understand it, you have to know about stereotypes, mainly that lesbians fall in love and get together VERY quickly. I make fun of it but I also explain how I, as a gay man, am like that too.
Alright, now that I’ve told you how to interpret the poem, here it is:
aaron's random musings 