Institute
I went to their amazing concert last night...
It's been too long since I've been to a concert. The sound of Gavin's new band, a bit harsher, heavier than Bush, a good change... a grown up departure, and thank you God, it's not pop. Not that I don't like some pop to an extent... but it's good to know his wife hasn't destroyed him yet, and the soul of the music is still pure. Perhaps my favorite among his deviations was Bush's "Deconstructed" in the late 90's... an electro-trip-hop twist on some old favorites as mixed by artists such as tricky and others. fun stuff. Liking them since I was in 7th grade... it's quite interesting to have seen them mature as I have.
As for the concert-- I wonder if the feelings of joy and ecstasy will ever leave? When I go to a concert when I'm 45 will there still be the same draw-- the same pull that keeps me in sway with the beat? The feeling that keeps my eyes glued to the stage, hands swaying with the beat of the music, the sweat pouring down my face and my neck. enchanted by the gentle grace of a man who plays the guitar. But alas, he does not just play the guitar... he makes love to the guitar. As his eyes lock mine, it's difficult, rather, impossible, to drift away, but who wants to? How is it possible to exude such raw desire, intensity and sensuality to capture an audience so, and seemingly without effort? Is it his cooing, brooding, sweet soft lyrics that capture the pain of desire, love and misunderstanding? Or the slight rasp of his well-chosen words from his soft-spoken british tongue as he mouths them? with the sad parts... grimaces of pain ("to lose you is to never love again"), and the hopeful parts... raised arms to the sky in desperation and surrender ("love is stronger than hate-- find that love in a wasteland"). He smiles and laughs at the crowd. He enjoys a lovely shot glass filled to the brim with the best tequila the house offers... it finds its rightful path to the pit of his stomach, burning all the way down, and a squeeze of sweet, spunky lime juice cools the burn. A small lick of salt from warm flesh completes the task as the largest grin I've ever seen finds its way to his face."You're trying to get me drunk, aren't you?" He reaches for his candy-apple red vintage Fender stratocaster. As he places the fuzzy leopard-print strap over his head, it wraps comfortably around his damp torso-- just as he was born for it to be there. The lights illuminate behind him, each stray, damp, perfectly coiled hair catches it, glistening as he pushes it from his face. He reaches out a hand... then serenedes our ears with the sweet omnipresent "Glycerine," (which might be the only song still heard on the radio anymore). I've been to three Bush concerts previously... never heard it live before. Let me tell you... it was worth it. all of it.
k
Good song: "Come on Over" by Institute
It's been too long since I've been to a concert. The sound of Gavin's new band, a bit harsher, heavier than Bush, a good change... a grown up departure, and thank you God, it's not pop. Not that I don't like some pop to an extent... but it's good to know his wife hasn't destroyed him yet, and the soul of the music is still pure. Perhaps my favorite among his deviations was Bush's "Deconstructed" in the late 90's... an electro-trip-hop twist on some old favorites as mixed by artists such as tricky and others. fun stuff. Liking them since I was in 7th grade... it's quite interesting to have seen them mature as I have.
As for the concert-- I wonder if the feelings of joy and ecstasy will ever leave? When I go to a concert when I'm 45 will there still be the same draw-- the same pull that keeps me in sway with the beat? The feeling that keeps my eyes glued to the stage, hands swaying with the beat of the music, the sweat pouring down my face and my neck. enchanted by the gentle grace of a man who plays the guitar. But alas, he does not just play the guitar... he makes love to the guitar. As his eyes lock mine, it's difficult, rather, impossible, to drift away, but who wants to? How is it possible to exude such raw desire, intensity and sensuality to capture an audience so, and seemingly without effort? Is it his cooing, brooding, sweet soft lyrics that capture the pain of desire, love and misunderstanding? Or the slight rasp of his well-chosen words from his soft-spoken british tongue as he mouths them? with the sad parts... grimaces of pain ("to lose you is to never love again"), and the hopeful parts... raised arms to the sky in desperation and surrender ("love is stronger than hate-- find that love in a wasteland"). He smiles and laughs at the crowd. He enjoys a lovely shot glass filled to the brim with the best tequila the house offers... it finds its rightful path to the pit of his stomach, burning all the way down, and a squeeze of sweet, spunky lime juice cools the burn. A small lick of salt from warm flesh completes the task as the largest grin I've ever seen finds its way to his face."You're trying to get me drunk, aren't you?" He reaches for his candy-apple red vintage Fender stratocaster. As he places the fuzzy leopard-print strap over his head, it wraps comfortably around his damp torso-- just as he was born for it to be there. The lights illuminate behind him, each stray, damp, perfectly coiled hair catches it, glistening as he pushes it from his face. He reaches out a hand... then serenedes our ears with the sweet omnipresent "Glycerine," (which might be the only song still heard on the radio anymore). I've been to three Bush concerts previously... never heard it live before. Let me tell you... it was worth it. all of it.
k
Good song: "Come on Over" by Institute
posted by Kim at 2:35 PM
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