No guns, actually. A Counting Crows gig: me, Jon, James and Elle.
I wore my new blue maxi dress. I thought, on the tube, what a good maternity dress it would make, and hoped I still have it when I'm pregnant. Which is a bit odd, considering Jon and I don't want to start a family for another five years or so. Motherhood, pregnancy, babies... all that stuff never seems to be far from my mind. While I'm quite happy to wait, I'm magnetically, instinctively drawn to thinking about it. I look forward to it. I feel more woman and less girl than I ever have before (I suppose I would, really). I find myself luxuriating in my fertility like a cat in the sun. I feel a ripeness, anticipate a fruitfulness. And I feel myself envied by barren women, just as, approaching my wedding, I feel myself envied by lonely women. I envy thin women and slim women and beautiful women. We all envy someone. As I try to choose a career - or, rather, a path through the world - I'm simultaneously choosing a social identity and my main response is to be a fox in the headlights, yet the role of earth mother is calling me. I will dedicate myself to home and hearth and children. That was never a question, though. The questions are: How to earn money? What is my role in the church? How will I fulfil myself intellectually? How will I write? Will I pursue recognition?
But back to Brixton. I could have sworn I had never been there. But one venue looks much like another, and Jon reminded me of last time we were there. I was fourteen. A whole group of us went to see Delirious? It was my first ever gig. So the Christian rock played, and people raised their hands, and the keenos jumped up and down at the front. Meanwhile, Jon and I sneaked away to the back and sat down and made out enthusiastically through the entire thing. So that, of course, coloured this Counting Crows gig for me, and I was alternately amused and nostalgic.
My feelings about the performance itself were mixed. I wished I had listened to more of their stuff, instead of listening to the same few tracks over and over. They played Mr. Jones and Round Here and Colour Blind, my favourites. Colour Blind is the epitome of the Crows' angst music which is somehow both incredibly beautiful and hilarious in its teenage overplayed intensity. Adam Duritz looks like a cross between Bob Marley and Jonathan Coulton, which doesn't help you to take it seriously, especially as he takes it so very seriously. He's an incredible performer, raw, charges every note full of himself. But, at the same time, I can never make out the words - even when he speaks - and many of the songs went on far too long as he stuck a load of randomness in the middle. Hardcore fans probably really appreciated it. I was a little bored.
Jon and I danced like losers. It's inevitable, whenever we attempt to dance, so we just go with it. I love how much fun we have together.
8 years ago