Oh, sweet Jesus...
Sep. 27th, 2008 09:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
home_and_awayOkay.
So.
Last night, I was in dereliction of duty, just a bit.
While the rest of my co-conspirators were knocking out knockout cover designs for the book we're all working on, my happy ass was at a concert.
A big concert.
Well, big to me, anyhow. Because it was open to still cameras as long as they weren't pro models. And because after all the other bands, Styx was playing. My beloved Fuji FinePix S602Zoom made the cut, barely; there was a very kind and welcoming nest of other Styx fans waiting at the barricade when I got there.
Here's a fun tip. If you find yourself at a general admission show alone and a little adrift? Talk to the people around you. Especially if they carry themselves with the same poise as the Security folk. Guarantee, if you're on good terms with someone who's got the Security vibe, you will NOT have to worry about being stepped on or crowded.
I owed a fair bit of the awesomeness of the night to Steve, who was also at the show by himself and decided I looked like a likely anchor point. Early on it was, "Will you keep an eye on my chair while I go find something to eat? Do YOU need anything?" Sure man, no worries; I'm good. This led to my "Will you keep a space open for me? I'm needing water. Do YOU need anything?" And his "I'm fine, yeah, I'll be here." And thus, we both wound up front and slightly right of centre by 10:30. Bless you, Steve.
Also excellent were Marcus and his son. It was his boyo's first concert, and Marcus was determined that no ned or yobbo was going to get in the way of it. Steve and I made a hole for the boyo at the barricade; Marcus kept us from getting ploughed into it. And the kiddio's had a stellar show. Teamwork, man.
I discovered, too, that for all Huntsville drivers are lunatics who will sideswipe you and keep driving, once you get them out of their little metal doomboxes, they're actually some really nice folk. More polite than Nashville, for DAMN sure.
All in all, a wonderful night.
And 176 pictures, some too blurry to use, which I'm going to have to find a home for, so I can e-mail four semistrangers and say "Hey, guys, come and get 'em!" and hopefully be said hey in return.
(and now for the fangirly-squee portion of our retelling:)
I smiled appreciation at Edwin McCain's guitarist because dude was wrist deep in some glorious music. It was like looking at Moorish fretwork: at first glance, it's a screen with some holes; when you focus on it, it's penrose tilings. And he didn't vamp around onstage. He just stood there simply in his plaid shirt, and made chewy, beautiful sounds. Sang backup some. Too cool. Too cool by far. Anyhow--I smiled at him. And he smiled back. ~beams!~
~*~
JY MADE IT TO THE SHOW!!! Unfortunately, though there are ways to convey "You're putting on one hell of a show; thank you for doing this; I love your work and I'm glad you're here" nonverbally from the front row, there isn't a similar means of saying, "I hope your wife is doing well; I've got her in my heart." So yeah. If you cats find yourself with some vibes of goodwill and hope to spare, sending 'em to the woman who's put up with Styx's lion since before Tommy signed on would be welcomed.
Speaking of Tommy Shaw, the wonderful man. :D Early in Styx's set, I blew him a kiss and he caught it. Yay, bandlove. Later, Lawrence Gowan--of whom I don't have half enough pictures, because the man NEVER STOPS MOVING--took a Polariod of Ricky Phillips and tossed it into the crowd in my direction. It caught me in the nose; I kept hold of it. Another kiss blown and acknowledged. My fangirly life is complete. At least till the next show. Linking Ricky's name reminds me--I bought another Styx shirt; this one's BLACK. :D
And to top off all the wonderment? When I got home, Mark was still awake. And what's more, he'd brought me tacos alambre back from Chips, and was reheating them when I walked in. He let me squee at him and looked through the pictures while I ate, and he told me about his night.
I have the greatest husband.
Pictures can be perused here, at DeviantArt. I'm actually kindof proud of some of them, this one and this one, particularly. :D
Alright.
Back to work with me.
So.
Last night, I was in dereliction of duty, just a bit.
While the rest of my co-conspirators were knocking out knockout cover designs for the book we're all working on, my happy ass was at a concert.
A big concert.
Well, big to me, anyhow. Because it was open to still cameras as long as they weren't pro models. And because after all the other bands, Styx was playing. My beloved Fuji FinePix S602Zoom made the cut, barely; there was a very kind and welcoming nest of other Styx fans waiting at the barricade when I got there.
Here's a fun tip. If you find yourself at a general admission show alone and a little adrift? Talk to the people around you. Especially if they carry themselves with the same poise as the Security folk. Guarantee, if you're on good terms with someone who's got the Security vibe, you will NOT have to worry about being stepped on or crowded.
I owed a fair bit of the awesomeness of the night to Steve, who was also at the show by himself and decided I looked like a likely anchor point. Early on it was, "Will you keep an eye on my chair while I go find something to eat? Do YOU need anything?" Sure man, no worries; I'm good. This led to my "Will you keep a space open for me? I'm needing water. Do YOU need anything?" And his "I'm fine, yeah, I'll be here." And thus, we both wound up front and slightly right of centre by 10:30. Bless you, Steve.
Also excellent were Marcus and his son. It was his boyo's first concert, and Marcus was determined that no ned or yobbo was going to get in the way of it. Steve and I made a hole for the boyo at the barricade; Marcus kept us from getting ploughed into it. And the kiddio's had a stellar show. Teamwork, man.
I discovered, too, that for all Huntsville drivers are lunatics who will sideswipe you and keep driving, once you get them out of their little metal doomboxes, they're actually some really nice folk. More polite than Nashville, for DAMN sure.
All in all, a wonderful night.
And 176 pictures, some too blurry to use, which I'm going to have to find a home for, so I can e-mail four semistrangers and say "Hey, guys, come and get 'em!" and hopefully be said hey in return.
(and now for the fangirly-squee portion of our retelling:)
I smiled appreciation at Edwin McCain's guitarist because dude was wrist deep in some glorious music. It was like looking at Moorish fretwork: at first glance, it's a screen with some holes; when you focus on it, it's penrose tilings. And he didn't vamp around onstage. He just stood there simply in his plaid shirt, and made chewy, beautiful sounds. Sang backup some. Too cool. Too cool by far. Anyhow--I smiled at him. And he smiled back. ~beams!~
~*~
JY MADE IT TO THE SHOW!!! Unfortunately, though there are ways to convey "You're putting on one hell of a show; thank you for doing this; I love your work and I'm glad you're here" nonverbally from the front row, there isn't a similar means of saying, "I hope your wife is doing well; I've got her in my heart." So yeah. If you cats find yourself with some vibes of goodwill and hope to spare, sending 'em to the woman who's put up with Styx's lion since before Tommy signed on would be welcomed.
Speaking of Tommy Shaw, the wonderful man. :D Early in Styx's set, I blew him a kiss and he caught it. Yay, bandlove. Later, Lawrence Gowan--of whom I don't have half enough pictures, because the man NEVER STOPS MOVING--took a Polariod of Ricky Phillips and tossed it into the crowd in my direction. It caught me in the nose; I kept hold of it. Another kiss blown and acknowledged. My fangirly life is complete. At least till the next show. Linking Ricky's name reminds me--I bought another Styx shirt; this one's BLACK. :D
And to top off all the wonderment? When I got home, Mark was still awake. And what's more, he'd brought me tacos alambre back from Chips, and was reheating them when I walked in. He let me squee at him and looked through the pictures while I ate, and he told me about his night.
I have the greatest husband.
Pictures can be perused here, at DeviantArt. I'm actually kindof proud of some of them, this one and this one, particularly. :D
Alright.
Back to work with me.
