I can honestly say that Dave Gahan is the only singer by whom I’ve been completely awe-struck (well, except for David Bowie, but that’s a whole different post). Seeing him in photos or in videos has caused much twitterpation for me over the years. Listening to his voice has moved me to tears on more than one occasion. But all of that pales in comparison to how it was to see him live. Watching him spin with the mic stand across the stage or smile at that crowd’s reactions was almost more than I could take last night. I found myself screaming and bouncing like that 12 year old girl I was when I discovered them.
I almost don’t have any words. Standing there, in the best music venue in the country listening to Depeche Mode move through their set list was just surreal. I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t ever get to see them live. That I would just have to settle for turning up the volume way too loud in the car and watching Dave Gahan and Martin Gore and Andy Fletcher float across my mind’s eye.
But there I was. Standing in between M who was able to come by sheer serendipitous circumstances and D who is the only person I’ve ever found who shares my absolute appreciation for the band. My legs aching from dancing and my voice faltering from screaming and excitement.
They played several songs from their new album which brought me a whole new level of appreciation for their new work. And they riled the crowd with the favorites from Violator. And they sent me into bliss with Behind the Wheel, Fly on the Windscreen, Somebody, Stripped and my absolute favorite Never Let Me Down Again. I didn’t get to hear Shake the Disease or Question of Lust, but that’s trivial to the overall set list they delivered. There is simply no way that they could have survived playing for as long as I would have liked.
We sat in post-concert glow watching the crowd file out until the megaphones came out and demanded that we move along. Such a gorgeous night.
Showing posts with label youth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label youth. Show all posts
8/28/09
8/27/09 - Depeche Mode
**Sorry this is late! But I was out way late with the concert and lost track of time yesterday to get it posted.**
My elementary school best friend, M, and I went to a movie one night when we were in about fifth grade. We had planned to see Fletch (I think), but when we arrived at the theater we discovered that Depeche Mode: 101 was playing. At that point I only really knew their song “People are People” and hadn’t really explored them much past that. After seeing 101 however, I had discovered one of my all-time most favorite bands. I can look back on sitting in that movie theater and remember exactly how it felt to be in the moment of discovery. Up to that point I hadn’t ever really found any bands that I could throw it all in with. I had a few favorites; I had discovered The Beastie Boys by then in all of their unrefined and crazy punk and early hip hop glory days. My love affair had begun with The Cure. But there was something about Depeche Mode that just romanced me like none other had before.
I am such a sucker for lyrics and the underlying beats in songs. Martin Gore constructed these songs that was driving and strong while still being inspired, honest and raw. His lyrics are just so naked. Where Robert Smith spoke to the overflowing teen angst and hopeless romantic in me, Dave Gahan singing spoke to all of me.
I know this must all sound so ridiculous and dramatic. But Depeche Mode has truly provided the soundtrack to three quarters of my life thus far. Their music is just a part of me. And they are the only band in my top 10 favorites that I’ve not ever seen live in concert. But that is going to change tonight. I’m going to see Depeche Mode, not only in concert, but in concert at Red Rocks. I bought these tickets so long ago that I wasn’t sure the actual concert would ever arrive, but tonight is the night and I cannot wait.
M and I are going out for Indian food and then going to pick up D and off we go. I’m so happy that I get to go to this concert with these girlfriends.
My elementary school best friend, M, and I went to a movie one night when we were in about fifth grade. We had planned to see Fletch (I think), but when we arrived at the theater we discovered that Depeche Mode: 101 was playing. At that point I only really knew their song “People are People” and hadn’t really explored them much past that. After seeing 101 however, I had discovered one of my all-time most favorite bands. I can look back on sitting in that movie theater and remember exactly how it felt to be in the moment of discovery. Up to that point I hadn’t ever really found any bands that I could throw it all in with. I had a few favorites; I had discovered The Beastie Boys by then in all of their unrefined and crazy punk and early hip hop glory days. My love affair had begun with The Cure. But there was something about Depeche Mode that just romanced me like none other had before.
I am such a sucker for lyrics and the underlying beats in songs. Martin Gore constructed these songs that was driving and strong while still being inspired, honest and raw. His lyrics are just so naked. Where Robert Smith spoke to the overflowing teen angst and hopeless romantic in me, Dave Gahan singing spoke to all of me.
I know this must all sound so ridiculous and dramatic. But Depeche Mode has truly provided the soundtrack to three quarters of my life thus far. Their music is just a part of me. And they are the only band in my top 10 favorites that I’ve not ever seen live in concert. But that is going to change tonight. I’m going to see Depeche Mode, not only in concert, but in concert at Red Rocks. I bought these tickets so long ago that I wasn’t sure the actual concert would ever arrive, but tonight is the night and I cannot wait.
M and I are going out for Indian food and then going to pick up D and off we go. I’m so happy that I get to go to this concert with these girlfriends.
6/15/09
Summer School
The Boy started summer school today and he was so excited when I told him it was time to go he couldn’t make it to the car fast enough.
When the district sent home the flyer about summer school what caught my attention about it the most was that they were doing a 2 hour reading class, it was dirt cheap and he got to eat lunch for free. So we ended up picking three classes for him. He chose gym and art (an hour each) and I chose the reading class. It’s a good compromise; he gets two hours of fun and then two solid hours of focused reading. I wanted to make sure we kept up on the reading through the summer so he didn’t back slide before starting first grade in the fall.
I just could not get over how happy he was to just to be there. He wasn’t nervous about being in classes with kids he had never met or with teachers who didn’t know his name. He didn’t even bat an eye when I told him classes would be at a different school. He practically drug me across the street to get checked in and then about ran to his first class.
It got me trying to remember if and when I ever thought about school like that. Was I ever that excited to go to school? I remember trying to get excited about it at the beginning of every school year and then having my hopes dashed by getting the mean teacher or coming face to face with problems requiring knowledge that had apparently leaked out of my ears during the long, hot summer. I remember wanting to love school and then just ending up feeling as stupid as can be within days. I never would have voluntarily signed up for summer school.
So right now, while making sure The Boy’s reading skills continue to progress is definitely a priority, I am just thrilled that he loves school. He doesn’t care what shirt he wears as long as it’s comfy. Right now showing up and learning is good enough for him and that makes me very happy indeed.
When the district sent home the flyer about summer school what caught my attention about it the most was that they were doing a 2 hour reading class, it was dirt cheap and he got to eat lunch for free. So we ended up picking three classes for him. He chose gym and art (an hour each) and I chose the reading class. It’s a good compromise; he gets two hours of fun and then two solid hours of focused reading. I wanted to make sure we kept up on the reading through the summer so he didn’t back slide before starting first grade in the fall.
I just could not get over how happy he was to just to be there. He wasn’t nervous about being in classes with kids he had never met or with teachers who didn’t know his name. He didn’t even bat an eye when I told him classes would be at a different school. He practically drug me across the street to get checked in and then about ran to his first class.
It got me trying to remember if and when I ever thought about school like that. Was I ever that excited to go to school? I remember trying to get excited about it at the beginning of every school year and then having my hopes dashed by getting the mean teacher or coming face to face with problems requiring knowledge that had apparently leaked out of my ears during the long, hot summer. I remember wanting to love school and then just ending up feeling as stupid as can be within days. I never would have voluntarily signed up for summer school.
So right now, while making sure The Boy’s reading skills continue to progress is definitely a priority, I am just thrilled that he loves school. He doesn’t care what shirt he wears as long as it’s comfy. Right now showing up and learning is good enough for him and that makes me very happy indeed.
1/16/09
Girls who Love Horses
I used to be an eventer. That is, I used to train and show horses. I started riding horses when I was in 5th or 6th grade and was very serious about it until about my sophomore year in high school. I stopped for a couple of reasons. The first was that I was sold a horse by some people that I deeply trusted when they knew full well that he had a degenerative bone disease. I felt so utterly betrayed that I couldn’t ride anymore. What sealed the deal was being a full-fledged teenager.
It’s a pity actually because it was something that I was very good at and that I really loved. But the breaking of my trust really soured the whole experience for me.
My first horse was Magnum. He was an AQHA registered Quarter horse. When I bought him, he was very green and pretty much only saddle broke. When I sold him a few years later, and only because I had grown 6 inches in a summer and you could see half of my legs underneath him, he was a serious eventing horse and very well trained.
He was a character, Magnum. He had a polka dot on his nose. He would follow me around without a halter on. He would stop, in front of the judges, and scratch his nose on his leg. Every time. I’m pretty sure he did it just because he thought it was funny. He and I learned a lot from each other. I still miss him every time I think about him.
My second and last horse, Dancer, the one with the disease, was a Thoroughbred/Quarter horse mix. He was also completely green. He was tall and graceful and gorgeous. He was to be my grand prix jumping horse. And he probably would have been if I hadn’t had to retire him to pasture at the horrendously premature age of 6.
I miss riding. I miss the feeling of sailing over a jump, the closest I’ll ever be to flying I’m sure. I miss the bond of horse and rider. But mostly I miss the work. Working together to be better together and individually.
It’s a pity actually because it was something that I was very good at and that I really loved. But the breaking of my trust really soured the whole experience for me.
My first horse was Magnum. He was an AQHA registered Quarter horse. When I bought him, he was very green and pretty much only saddle broke. When I sold him a few years later, and only because I had grown 6 inches in a summer and you could see half of my legs underneath him, he was a serious eventing horse and very well trained.
He was a character, Magnum. He had a polka dot on his nose. He would follow me around without a halter on. He would stop, in front of the judges, and scratch his nose on his leg. Every time. I’m pretty sure he did it just because he thought it was funny. He and I learned a lot from each other. I still miss him every time I think about him.
My second and last horse, Dancer, the one with the disease, was a Thoroughbred/Quarter horse mix. He was also completely green. He was tall and graceful and gorgeous. He was to be my grand prix jumping horse. And he probably would have been if I hadn’t had to retire him to pasture at the horrendously premature age of 6.
I miss riding. I miss the feeling of sailing over a jump, the closest I’ll ever be to flying I’m sure. I miss the bond of horse and rider. But mostly I miss the work. Working together to be better together and individually.
1/4/09
Lyrics
Doing the one word progression yesterday with dearest H had me remembering today when I was younger and set about my first foray into word play.
I’ve always been drawn to words and in awe of people who can use them to tell stories, or express emotion in some profound way. My first real awareness of words came through song I think. Some of my earliest, and best, memories are of sitting in the back of my parents’ car listening to music on whatever road trip we happened to be on at any given time. The Beatles, The Who, Dire Straits, David Bowie, The Rolling Stones and Creedence Clearwater Revival were the ones I looked forward to most.
As I got a bit older I used to fall asleep every night listening to the small radio my parents had given me one Christmas. When I was in elementary school and fully immersed in my first real crush, I knew that there were things I wanted to say to this boy and had no idea where to begin. As I lay, balancing on the edge of sleep, one night listening to the Top 40 Countdown, an idea struck me.
The next day I sat with paper and pen and my radio listening for the words that were being crooned so effortlessly by bands and singers that I could not put together myself. What I ended up with was a love letter comprised of lyrics from my favorite songs. I signed my name to the end and gave it to the boy sheepishly.
He didn’t really get it of course. Who would at the ripe age of 9 or 10? I just remember feeling like I had finally figured out a way to convey my feelings to this boy who made my heart race. It didn’t really matter if they were borrowed or stolen words or lines. I had constructed them in such a way that delivered a potent message of early adoration.
I still look to my favorite songs to detail my emotion when I am without the perfect sentiment. It’s an amazing thing to hear someone else sing your love, or heartbreak, anger or joy.
I’ve always been drawn to words and in awe of people who can use them to tell stories, or express emotion in some profound way. My first real awareness of words came through song I think. Some of my earliest, and best, memories are of sitting in the back of my parents’ car listening to music on whatever road trip we happened to be on at any given time. The Beatles, The Who, Dire Straits, David Bowie, The Rolling Stones and Creedence Clearwater Revival were the ones I looked forward to most.
As I got a bit older I used to fall asleep every night listening to the small radio my parents had given me one Christmas. When I was in elementary school and fully immersed in my first real crush, I knew that there were things I wanted to say to this boy and had no idea where to begin. As I lay, balancing on the edge of sleep, one night listening to the Top 40 Countdown, an idea struck me.
The next day I sat with paper and pen and my radio listening for the words that were being crooned so effortlessly by bands and singers that I could not put together myself. What I ended up with was a love letter comprised of lyrics from my favorite songs. I signed my name to the end and gave it to the boy sheepishly.
He didn’t really get it of course. Who would at the ripe age of 9 or 10? I just remember feeling like I had finally figured out a way to convey my feelings to this boy who made my heart race. It didn’t really matter if they were borrowed or stolen words or lines. I had constructed them in such a way that delivered a potent message of early adoration.
I still look to my favorite songs to detail my emotion when I am without the perfect sentiment. It’s an amazing thing to hear someone else sing your love, or heartbreak, anger or joy.