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oiran'In a certain light, he looked like Elvis' Elvis Costello was great, of course. He always is, even when he's sick (as he was this time).
I came (very late, I might add) to a realization as we sat crammed in our "pew" amongst uniformly large-assed people: the reason I dread concerts and almost always want to leave as soon as I arrive is that I can't stand the fidgeting and talking and overall stupid distraction of other people innocently going about their business. I am an ADD-having control freak, so this makes perfect sense, and I'm surprised it took me this long to figure it out. Despite the wonderful acoustics, the Ryman's seating arrangements leave much to be desired - long wooden benches so close together that my legs won't fit unless I sit sidesaddle even under the roomiest of conditions. Instead of forcing myself to stay in my seat, I stood up behind the back row (only a couple rows back from our seats anyway) and Mr. G stood with me because he loves me :) Despite the eventual back pain, I do think standing made the experience much more enjoyable. God, I'm so fussy!
Mr. Costello was wearing shoes that appeared to be made of dragon scales of an extraordinarily magical nature. Either that, or silver metal sequins. Very nice, and pointy, too. He also had at least ten guitars with him, changing back and forth between almost every song. He played all (I think) of the songs from his new album with some help from Emmylou Harris, and also played the songs that every one knows. We were, for a nice change, not even close to being the oldest old people in the audience. The spastic flailings and random air-punching exuberance of our chronological peers was both embarrassing and endearing.
Tift Merritt: Local performer who opened for Mr. Costello (she's also his labelmate). A poor sound mix at the beginning thankfully improved over the duration of her performance. Great voice, great songs, terrible dress. She's a pretty, pale-skinned girl with streaky blonde hair whose peach-colored, sleeveless minidress turned a nearly nude shade under the lights. This dress, unfortunately, had red or rust-colored designs over the boobs, ass and stomach and these markings, combined with the gathers under the bust, made her breasts appear to be bare, wizened and deformed. She was also bare-legged above really dark-brown boots. The overall impression was of lots of extra skin hanging in swags above feet that were underlined three times and circled with red pen. The boots were nice, though. The dress in a different color I could have liked. The girl was pretty. The combination was really unfortunate. So powerful was my reaction to this costume that mentally dressing and redressing her took precedence over enjoyment of the songs. She apparently cancelled a headlining performance locally so that she can tour with Elvis Costello for ~3 weeks. When that performance is rescheduled, I think we'll probably go see her.
I do hope she won't wear the dress again.
Emmylou's boots: Cowgirly boots with a narrow shaft and extra-pointy toe with some sort of...thing at the ankle. Like those fringed flaps on a pair of golf cleats or old saddle shoes, but incredibly cool. She appears to have big feet, which I always approve of (*imagines self borrowing Emmylou's shoes*). I ended up staying up very, very late trying to locate similar footwear online, falling in love with many pairs of cowgirl boots in the process but not finding those exact ones. Also, she's just gorgeous, what with the hair and the lovely face and the sweet, sad voice. I realized that one of the good things about living here is the fact that so many musicians like it here, and like playing here, and you almost always get "special guests" at shows. She is on a lot of Elvis Costello's most recent recording, but I'm sure she isn't touring with him and dueting on half the performance. That was just for us, as a reward for living here :)
this is my sternum: And since I'm talking about what everyone on stage was wearing, I will describe my own outfit. Black pants hastily taken in (but not taken in enough) an hour prior, extra-nice black blazer which is the only tailored piece that survives from the chain-smoking era and, amazingly, fits again (which does make me wish I had back all the nice suits and jackets that I gave away in weight-driven despair), and a black silk chiffon top that is so low-cut I can't wear a bra with it. It's one of those things that seems sexy but perfectly fine at home, but perhaps a little too risque out in public. Having no Jane Austen-y fichu tucked in my bag, I simply brazened it out, telling myself I was selflessly serving as a PSA for correct CPR technique.
Wandered away in the middle of writing this post to walk the dog. Started out sunny, ended up dark, windy and freezing cold. It was cold enough that I called Mr. Glove and hinted that he should leave work and come take us home. Thankfully, he was more than happy to comply. Discovered over the course of the walk that I love, love, love my mp3 player, and I love shuffle play. The idea never appealed to me because it seemed too much like radio, but since I like all the songs that I've loaded up, there's no downside to the shuffle after all. Walked along to a soundtrack of primarily Shiina Ringo, Johnny Cash, Radiohead, Boards of Canada, David Sylvian, TV On The Radio, and Tori Amos. They do indeed all go together, but I certainly never would have chosen the tracks or even all the artists that the player picked for me. I'm looking at this as a way of repositioning my perspective, which probably indicates I'm waaaay overthinking it.
I'm feeling awfully talkative today.
I came (very late, I might add) to a realization as we sat crammed in our "pew" amongst uniformly large-assed people: the reason I dread concerts and almost always want to leave as soon as I arrive is that I can't stand the fidgeting and talking and overall stupid distraction of other people innocently going about their business. I am an ADD-having control freak, so this makes perfect sense, and I'm surprised it took me this long to figure it out. Despite the wonderful acoustics, the Ryman's seating arrangements leave much to be desired - long wooden benches so close together that my legs won't fit unless I sit sidesaddle even under the roomiest of conditions. Instead of forcing myself to stay in my seat, I stood up behind the back row (only a couple rows back from our seats anyway) and Mr. G stood with me because he loves me :) Despite the eventual back pain, I do think standing made the experience much more enjoyable. God, I'm so fussy!
Mr. Costello was wearing shoes that appeared to be made of dragon scales of an extraordinarily magical nature. Either that, or silver metal sequins. Very nice, and pointy, too. He also had at least ten guitars with him, changing back and forth between almost every song. He played all (I think) of the songs from his new album with some help from Emmylou Harris, and also played the songs that every one knows. We were, for a nice change, not even close to being the oldest old people in the audience. The spastic flailings and random air-punching exuberance of our chronological peers was both embarrassing and endearing.
Tift Merritt: Local performer who opened for Mr. Costello (she's also his labelmate). A poor sound mix at the beginning thankfully improved over the duration of her performance. Great voice, great songs, terrible dress. She's a pretty, pale-skinned girl with streaky blonde hair whose peach-colored, sleeveless minidress turned a nearly nude shade under the lights. This dress, unfortunately, had red or rust-colored designs over the boobs, ass and stomach and these markings, combined with the gathers under the bust, made her breasts appear to be bare, wizened and deformed. She was also bare-legged above really dark-brown boots. The overall impression was of lots of extra skin hanging in swags above feet that were underlined three times and circled with red pen. The boots were nice, though. The dress in a different color I could have liked. The girl was pretty. The combination was really unfortunate. So powerful was my reaction to this costume that mentally dressing and redressing her took precedence over enjoyment of the songs. She apparently cancelled a headlining performance locally so that she can tour with Elvis Costello for ~3 weeks. When that performance is rescheduled, I think we'll probably go see her.
I do hope she won't wear the dress again.
Emmylou's boots: Cowgirly boots with a narrow shaft and extra-pointy toe with some sort of...thing at the ankle. Like those fringed flaps on a pair of golf cleats or old saddle shoes, but incredibly cool. She appears to have big feet, which I always approve of (*imagines self borrowing Emmylou's shoes*). I ended up staying up very, very late trying to locate similar footwear online, falling in love with many pairs of cowgirl boots in the process but not finding those exact ones. Also, she's just gorgeous, what with the hair and the lovely face and the sweet, sad voice. I realized that one of the good things about living here is the fact that so many musicians like it here, and like playing here, and you almost always get "special guests" at shows. She is on a lot of Elvis Costello's most recent recording, but I'm sure she isn't touring with him and dueting on half the performance. That was just for us, as a reward for living here :)
this is my sternum: And since I'm talking about what everyone on stage was wearing, I will describe my own outfit. Black pants hastily taken in (but not taken in enough) an hour prior, extra-nice black blazer which is the only tailored piece that survives from the chain-smoking era and, amazingly, fits again (which does make me wish I had back all the nice suits and jackets that I gave away in weight-driven despair), and a black silk chiffon top that is so low-cut I can't wear a bra with it. It's one of those things that seems sexy but perfectly fine at home, but perhaps a little too risque out in public. Having no Jane Austen-y fichu tucked in my bag, I simply brazened it out, telling myself I was selflessly serving as a PSA for correct CPR technique.
Wandered away in the middle of writing this post to walk the dog. Started out sunny, ended up dark, windy and freezing cold. It was cold enough that I called Mr. Glove and hinted that he should leave work and come take us home. Thankfully, he was more than happy to comply. Discovered over the course of the walk that I love, love, love my mp3 player, and I love shuffle play. The idea never appealed to me because it seemed too much like radio, but since I like all the songs that I've loaded up, there's no downside to the shuffle after all. Walked along to a soundtrack of primarily Shiina Ringo, Johnny Cash, Radiohead, Boards of Canada, David Sylvian, TV On The Radio, and Tori Amos. They do indeed all go together, but I certainly never would have chosen the tracks or even all the artists that the player picked for me. I'm looking at this as a way of repositioning my perspective, which probably indicates I'm waaaay overthinking it.
I'm feeling awfully talkative today.
