Grief comes at its own pace and it’s been hitting me in waves. Sometimes the waves are small and I am not even sure why I feel uneasy until I stop and think; other times they are tidal waves that knock me down and toss me about. I wish I could wish this whole thing away. With every ambulance I hear I cringe and wonder if someone is dying a suffocating death.
“Who said this life’s too much to bear? Just tell me how to fix it. It’s broken. It’s broken.” —Iggy Pop
Music is proving to one of my most reliable salvations. I got the Vocalo app and Jill Hopkins in the Morning keeps me company with her witty quips, joyful nature, and curation of fine old and new school soul, new and vintage hip hop, and contemporary hits. She’s keeping me in the know. Vagabon’s In a Bind, for example, makes difficulty seem bearable as she croons from a sad yet powerful place about surviving heartbreak. Thanks Jill. This NPR station’s DJ’s also bring dancing vibes into my kitchen and living room, and dance I do.
Some of my most religious experiences have been at concerts. Leonard Cohen at the Chicago Theatre, doing 5 or 6 encores, just a couple years before we lost him. Stevie Wonder at the Arie Crown in the 90s, singing "Superwoman" as a friend and I held hands and cried. Stevie again, singing "Songs in the Key of Life" from start to finish a few years back at the Frank Erwin Center in Austin, in the company of my sister.
Nile Rodgers—who wrote, composed or produced Madonna’s "Like a Virgin," Sister Sledge’s 'We are Family," Daft Punk’s "Get Lucky," Diana Ross’s "I’m Coming Out," David Bowie’s "Let’s Dance," the B52s "Roam, "Duran Duran’s "Notorious"— doing his thing with Chic and Duran Duran at Ravinia when it was still safe to be shoulder to shoulder with unmasked strangers, singing our hearts out.
Lollapalooza has also provided lifelong memories. Iggy Pop’s meatless frame throwing his mic stand into the crowd. Amy Winehouse in a black and white checkered minidress, unable to stand at times, and her loving band of large men holding her up when necessary. Brazilian Girls with lead singer Sabina Sciubba in haute couture and an angelic voice; an apparition in snow white with thousands of adoring fans hanging on every word, shake of her hips, and mesmerizing fluttery hand gestures.
For a couple years in the mid-2000s I was hired at a beer tent at the fest, to pour and serve hundreds of beers to drunken or soon-to-be-drunken patrons. I walked away with $500 cash each day, and was allowed to see any show I’d like. I didn’t even mind the work part of it since the crew was fun and the people watching phenomenal.
These days, when I hear folks say they are going to concerts at indoor venues, or to shows that are sure to be overly packed and thus spreader fests, my heart sinks. Too much of the world is not taking this seriously enough. They have all of the patience of a shrew.
For now I will sing and dance at home, on the beach, on patios and in friend’s yards. I am also ecstatically looking forward to seeing Neko Case on September 4th at a venue sponsored by SPACE in Evanston. They are calling the series Out of Space and the shows will be outdoors and as safe as can be. I will let Neko’s thunderous pipes, perfect pitch, and power take me as far away as I can muster.
Sing it Neko.
Nile Rodgers—who wrote, composed or produced Madonna’s "Like a Virgin," Sister Sledge’s 'We are Family," Daft Punk’s "Get Lucky," Diana Ross’s "I’m Coming Out," David Bowie’s "Let’s Dance," the B52s "Roam, "Duran Duran’s "Notorious"— doing his thing with Chic and Duran Duran at Ravinia when it was still safe to be shoulder to shoulder with unmasked strangers, singing our hearts out.
Lollapalooza has also provided lifelong memories. Iggy Pop’s meatless frame throwing his mic stand into the crowd. Amy Winehouse in a black and white checkered minidress, unable to stand at times, and her loving band of large men holding her up when necessary. Brazilian Girls with lead singer Sabina Sciubba in haute couture and an angelic voice; an apparition in snow white with thousands of adoring fans hanging on every word, shake of her hips, and mesmerizing fluttery hand gestures.
For a couple years in the mid-2000s I was hired at a beer tent at the fest, to pour and serve hundreds of beers to drunken or soon-to-be-drunken patrons. I walked away with $500 cash each day, and was allowed to see any show I’d like. I didn’t even mind the work part of it since the crew was fun and the people watching phenomenal.
These days, when I hear folks say they are going to concerts at indoor venues, or to shows that are sure to be overly packed and thus spreader fests, my heart sinks. Too much of the world is not taking this seriously enough. They have all of the patience of a shrew.
For now I will sing and dance at home, on the beach, on patios and in friend’s yards. I am also ecstatically looking forward to seeing Neko Case on September 4th at a venue sponsored by SPACE in Evanston. They are calling the series Out of Space and the shows will be outdoors and as safe as can be. I will let Neko’s thunderous pipes, perfect pitch, and power take me as far away as I can muster.
Sing it Neko.
“God blessed me, I'm a free man. With no place free to go. I’m paralyzed and collared-tight. No pills for what I fear. This is crazy. I wish I was the moon tonight.”