Last week, I went to my first rock concert in years. I can't even remember the last time I had to buy tickets from Ticketmaster. But I'd not been to an indie rock bar in some time. Even jazz bars can be a challenge, as excessively warm + loud = nausea + headache. And often, the to do list is such that I can't "afford" to kill the next day all groggy and stuff.But 2010 has been a year of great transition for me, and I've been living a more balanced life between art, fixing up my loft, family & friends, and other experiences. Often, deliberately placing myself into situations which had been for some time automatic "no"s.
Enter Liz Phair, back on tour to, hrm, salvage her reputation, I think. I love her and her music. I love that she sold out so she could raise her kid, and I love that people criticize her for it. I love how she's evolved over the years, her music reflecting perfectly the stage of life she's in. I sheepishly admit I feel a little affinity as a writer/artist myself.
I thought her show would be heavily leaning on my new album (which is a mix between "great" and "what the—?!?"), but she started with "Supernova" and ended with "Fuck and Run" with everything good in between.
She was fun and funny, joking with the audience and her band. She took requests from people shouting out, and even hauled two scared girls on stage to sing backup on "Flower" which was amazing. In photos, she looks kinda harsh and bitchy, but in person, she was super cute and nice nice nice. Loved the lace stockings and spike heel suede fuck-me boots.
The Paradise was fairly not-warm, but it also helped that Sean and I stuck to the less-crowded balcony. And—sadly for Liz—it wasn't exactly a packed house. So I didn't feel physically sick, though the next day my ears were still ringing a bit and I was sluggish.
So, not something I'll be repeating weekly, but now and again, I am sure I will enjoy myself at a show for someone special.
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