I just got back from a Brandi Carlile concert at The House of Blues in Downtown Disney. I have been to many concerts through out the years but she has, by far, the best stage presence of any musician I have seen. She's beautiful and tiny with a voice that doesn't fit her physical appearance. On top of that she has a level of humility up there that you don't normally see in singers. I fell so madly in love with her it may be a potential threat to Hunter.
It's funny, I was so uncomfortable at first. I really hate big crowds. The sweat, the noise, the unending violation of personal space. At one moment I thought about leaving before the show even started. I figured I would make up some excuse to my cousin-food poisoning. . .that was as far as I got. I mean, really, is there ever a good reason to leave a perfectly good concert before it even starts? I stuck out the initial feeling of claustrophobia and spent the entirety of the opening band thinking about handbags. If I had an Iphone I would have been online shopping for one well everyone around me was swaying to some trendy Seattle boy band I can't remember the name of. My current purse is a small, vintage handbag made from a gold and pink upholstery from the 1960's. It's a cute little bag with two small handles. But it's a real bitch to take to a concert. I didn't realize that of course until I was there and everyone had purses with shoulder straps. I feel I have greatly improved throughout the years. I remember never feeling properly dressed for anything because I was always so uncomfortable with myself. Now I feel pretty comfortable in my own skin, I just have yet to find the perfect handbag. Well, this thought process got me through the first 45 minutes as I stood in one place waiting for the main act to start. Once it did I forgot about my stupid handbag and found myself giggling and swaying to her voice.
I wish I could say the entire experience was a fabulously flawless evening, but there were three women next to me who had their little panties all up in a bunch over the yelling and singing going on in the audience. The one next to me was the worst. She was this little pig in a blanket, decked out in a denim top from 1988. I only belted out and sang along to one song, it was the first song I ever heard by Brandi Carlile and I must have listened to it over and over for a few weeks. I made a point to memorize every word so I could sing it throughout the day. So I sang along to that one song and for the rest of the night every time me and the girl next to her so much as gave a woohoo at the end of a song, Little Piggy Number 1 would put her hand against her ear. At one point every one was quietly singing along to Calling All Angels and the whole time she kept looking our way and covering her ear. I kind of wanted to lean over and shriek as loud as I could straight into her ear drum but I was afraid Little Piggies Two and Three would kick my ass. Honestly, isn't that the fun of a good concert? When you are surrounded by people who love the music so much they can't help but yell and sing along? And it's not like we were all a bunch of 15 year old girls screaming for 2 hours straight, just a yelp at the end of a song, a little bit of chiming in at the chorus. If I ever get to be that fat I hope to God I have a good personality to compensate for it. My anal Little Piggy friend was dull and repressed and just not a happy person. The funny thing was that half way through the night, Ms. Carlile made an observation that it sounded like there were some singers in the audience. At which point Little Piggy Number 2 yelled, "ya, some of us are!" And then the 3 Little Piggies all proceed to start harmonizing together to a note in one of her songs. I started cracking up. Who does that!? Well, anyways, aside from the 3 Little Piggies, it was a great night.
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