When I obsess, I go whole hog. I've done it before with other things. I get this desire to know everything there is to know about my obsession. It becomes a wild and starving animal that I have to tame and feed constantly. I'm sure there are varying degrees to my obsessions but I think that depends on how much I give in to them and let the obsession take over. This is not always a good thing. There have been several occasions where my thought progression was negative and turned inwards on myself. That is, of course, a story for another day though.
Right now, this obsession is Michael Nesmith. You know, this guy. From The Monkees.
Up until about two months ago, I could have cared less about him. I knew who he was, of course, but had never experienced his music nor seen him outside of anything save The Monkees and even that I will confess to not paying that much attention. My family didn't have cable when I was a kid and I didn't see the show on MTV like so many others in my age range. I think I saw my first episode around Christmas of last year when I gave my husband the TV show dvd's as a gift. He has been a fan for a long time. When they announced their tour there was no question that we would be going. I bought three tickets to the show: one for my husband as a birthday present, one for my friend Em, who has had a rough year and needed a pick me up, and one for me because it sounded like fun.
Up until about two months ago, I could have cared less about him. I knew who he was, of course, but had never experienced his music nor seen him outside of anything save The Monkees and even that I will confess to not paying that much attention. My family didn't have cable when I was a kid and I didn't see the show on MTV like so many others in my age range. I think I saw my first episode around Christmas of last year when I gave my husband the TV show dvd's as a gift. He has been a fan for a long time. When they announced their tour there was no question that we would be going. I bought three tickets to the show: one for my husband as a birthday present, one for my friend Em, who has had a rough year and needed a pick me up, and one for me because it sounded like fun.
We made it to the venue an hour before the doors opened. The tour buses were there and people milled about by the fence blocking it. None of us were particularly interested in hanging out waiting for a glimpse of celebrity. Honestly, what would be the point, we asked each other? None of us wanted an autograph and the chances of seeing anyone come out of those buses was slim. Besides, it was hot and sticky and we all wanted something to drink. We went to a restaurant that also had a bar; had a drink and chatted about the work day (Em's had been particularly grueling) before heading back to get in line. Once inside, we stood in line to get our merchandise. Unfortunately, the line was nonexistent and we had to just edge our way to the front. My husband said afterwards that he was under so much pressure to just make it to the front he forgot everything we had decided on buying ahead of time. This meant that the one thing I wanted, those blasted pins with their faces on it, was forgotten. Oh well, c'est la vie right?
We go to our seats; we're on the aisle in the balcony on Mike Nesmith's side of the stage. My husband is thrilled. Em has to sit next to some guy who is taping the whole thing. I didn't realize until after the concert how much this impeded her enjoyment. You can see his videos on YouTube for what its worth. Anyway, we had a decent view of the stage. The only problem turned out to be that because of the angle if someone stood in the next section, we wouldn't be able to see a thing. We completely missed the first song altogether because of this. A lady behind us went over and said something. All was well until the encore but we were on our feet then too.
I don't really want to go song by song because I can't. There's too much distance between the concert and the writing of this. But after the jump I'll tell you some random thoughts I had before I get to the whole point of this blog entry/concert review. And also, pardon any bad language but sometimes a cuss word is the best descriptor even if it is crass.
