The Sunday Series: Sunday No. 6 (February 15, 2015)

Sunday No. 6 (February 15, 2015)

I look back so far, that I can’t see what is in front of me.  Whenever I go to a concert, I’m totally focused on who is there, meaning in the audience.  Even when the music is being performed and the musicians are dancing on the stage, my eyes are still wandering around the theater, in the hopes that I see someone I know.  A concert has no meaning unless you fill it up with people you know.  The best part of the show is talking to friends online about how excited you are to go to the event, and then getting there a little bit early to hang out in the lobby of the theater - to both check out the merchant table as well as seeing friends.  The actual show starting is a combination of excitement, and disappointment at the same time.  The truth is we are excited to sit down and to see the show, but in reality we just want to communicate to others how excited we are being there, and want to celebrate the communal feeling that we all have.  For instance, I purchased a new suit for the concert, and I really want my friends to see me in my outfit.   It is not unusual for me to totally not remembering the actual show on stage, but I of course, have a crystal clear memory of every transaction that took place right before the concert.  I even enjoy getting in line for security.  There is something thrilling about having a pair of hands checking out your leg and torso for hidden weapons of some sort.   If it was me separated from the crowd, I would be offended.  But to be with the others, and sharing the experience of being man-handled, is actually quite superb.  We often get together and complain about the same things.

I started to appreciate music when my best friend brought me a copy of Sparks “Kimono My House” to my home.  He puts it on my turntable, and we immediately began to talk about girls.  At the time, he was going on a date with a girl that I liked a lot.  He knew it, and he loved to tell me sexy stuff about her.  He got great enjoyment in sharing their intimate moments with me.   I remember feeling jealous, yet turned on at the same time.  It was at that moment, when there was silence between us, that I noticed the music on the turntable.  I ask him whether he likes it?  He said “of course. I brought it for you to hear.” Which makes perfect sense.  It’s funny that I had a turntable in the house, because I only got it, because a friend demanded that I get one.  He claimed that if you like music, you must have the proper gear to listen to music.  At the time, I told everyone that I loved music, but in truth, I only liked to hear music either at parties or in nightclubs. I would never think about listening to music in one’s own home.  What is the purpose of that?

My appreciation of music comes specifically from friends or people I’m interested in.  I often join music online chat groups, mostly if not fully for the reason of the people themselves.  There was a girl that I fancied and she told me she was a fan of a group called “The Hollywood Stars, ” who no longer exist.  I think they made one album, and even that, I’m not sure if that’s the case or not.  Again, I joined the chat list to stay connected to this particular girl.   I learned about the band through her, and I guess they came from Los Angeles sometime in the 1970s.  She gave me a cd-r of their music, but I never took the trouble to play it - but I told her that I liked the music anyway.  She told me that the cd-r was a recorded rehearsal for one of their shows - or maybe it was a demo tape they gave out to promoters.  Nevertheless, she thought it was pretty hot and rare, and I acted surprised and honoured to have received such a gift.   Through her and others, on the chat line we became a real-life sociable group, and would often go out to concerts together.  I never discussed music in detail with these people, but I would let them know that I do own the cd-r of the Hollywood Stars, and by this time, I think everyone in the group got a hold of it.  Damn, I even made several copies for my friends, now come to think of it.

All three of us met at my house, and as we wait for UBER to pick us up, I reflect on how grateful I am of culture and what it brings to my life.  Without it, I wouldn’t have the friends I have now.  At times, I feel that they don’t really know me, but I know them quite well.   As we get in the car and head for darkness of the night, my heart actually gets brighter for me.