Oh well. Here it is anyway. Tilt your head maybe? Turn it into a neck stretch? It's always good to stretch your neck.
Last night I went out to a show with my family. Bruce Cockburn has been a part of my life since I was a little girl, as my parents were big fans all through my childhood. "Wondering Where the Lions Are" is on my top ten favorite songs, and reminds me of being a little kid. Here is a post I wrote about that very song, in 2005, which is - OMG! - seven years ago. That's kind of ridiculous. It really doesn't feel like that much time has passed between that day and this day. Time, she flies, hey?
ANYway. So my brother Mat and I took our Mum and her friend out to see Bruce Cockburn play. It was a lovely, lovely concert. Just Bruce by himself on stage. A backdrop of a great big linen cloth with all these shiny little pieces of cloth sewn on, which only looked shiny when lit from a certain angle. Otherwise they looked plain-colored, various neutrals like beige, olive green, brown. Bruce stood at the microphone wearing a black suit jacket, a red tie, and black suit pants tucked into combat boots. An interesting style choice! (Mat and I joked to each other that at the end, after the first encore, when everyone was clapping for a second, he would come out and just go batshit crazy, kicking stuff and freaking out - "No I don't want to play any more songs for you!!", that that's what the combat boots were for. Not funny? Huh .... I guess you had to be there.) His white hair was parted on the side. He wore his signature little round glasses. He was gentle, relaxed, articulate. Responded with good humour when people shouted things from the audience. ("We love you Bruce!" "WOO!" - in the middle of tuning his guitar.)
A variety of acoustic guitars stood behind him, some with vibrant, jade-green soundboards. There were also some great big windchimes hanging on either side of him, and two free-standing tables set up. One had a dulcimer on it, and the other, two metallic gongs. He used these instruments sparingly, little spices to add flavour to the guitar.
Some kind of smoke wafted gently above the stage, playing in the lights. I watched the lazy upward and circular motions of that, as much as I watched the performer. Bruce Cockburn's songs, if you're not familiar with them, are intricate both lyrically and melodically, so it was a rest for the eyes. I would also close my eyes and breathe in and out, and just listen to the rich sound around me. The man is a true poet, who also happens to be a virtuoso guitar player. His smoky voice is haunting.
I had in my purse this cassette tape, which I had brought on a whim to play for Mum in the car on the way there. Halfway through the concert I realized - "I should get him to sign it!" So, I did. When I got up to the table, I said,
"Hi, thanks for the show! I have a tape for you to sign."
"Huh, haven't seen one of these in a while!" He turned it over in his hands.
"I got it at Value Village for a dollar. But I've been a fan of yours since I was a little girl!"
He opened it up. The case came apart, as it always does.
"Oh don't worry, you didn't break that, it was already broken," I said.
"Where do you play this?" He asked.
"In my car, it's a '97, it only has a tape deck."
"My girlfriend's car is like that," he said. "I've had to pull out some of my old tapes."
"Thank you!" I said, after he signed it and handed it back. The line behind me was long, and it was late.
I wonder what it would sell for on EBay? Actually, probably not much. Definitely not for what it's worth, to me, now.
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