Well, I don’t want to drop names…. You know I hate doing that…..
What the hell am I saying? I don’t ever have names to drop! Let the dropping begin. Sit back.
So my friend Brooke and I go to see the Songwriters concert: Dar Williams, Patti Griffin, Mary Chapin Carpenter, and Shawn Colvin. An incredible line-up, but in my heart, Dar was the headliner. I’ve been a fan of hers for what feels like forever but what is probably more like eight or nine years.
Brooke’s her pal. I mean it. From the stage, Dar plugged Brooke and her book, at which point it was all I could do not to squeal. The women standing behind us talking (which had been annoying most of the evening, but was tolerable at this point) said, “Oh, are you Brooke?” Brooke nodded, the picture of modesty. I heard a stage whisper and saw out of the corner of my eye a finger pointing in my direction, “I think I know her, too. The one in the white sweater.” I straightened a little and dropped my eyelids, trying to look a little famous.
Oh, yeah, get this: AFTER Dar plugs Brooke, she mentions that Amy Ray is in the audience. You know who she is. If you don’t, go buy ANY Indigo Girls album and get back to me in an hour. You need to be not only familiar with their music, but also be familiar with the fact that I LOVE THEM to understand this story.
Now, let me say that I understand I LOVE THEM is a strong statement. But think of your favorite musical artist in the whole wide world, the one that has shaped you the most as a human being, and then just imagine that you get to watch a Dar Williams concert with her.
Yep. Table for six at the Warfield? Amy, her girlfriend, two of their mutual friends, Brooke, and ME!
And what I was most proud of? That I lectured myself beforehand and really convinced myself that great as it was, Amy Ray is just a woman who likes good music and I was glad to meet her and talk with her. Doesn’t hurt that she plays good music, too. I didn’t feel starstruck, just happy to be there.
And backstage later (okay – I’m going to get over myself in about six minutes, I promise), I got to chat a little with Dar and her friends. I got a hug.
(Only regret – didn’t ask for pictures after the show – I was really trying to maintain my “I Could Never be a Stalker, Don’t Worry” pose, but I would have liked one with Amy and/or Dar. There. I said it.)
It was cool. Doesn’t that sound like an understatement? I know. But it’s appropriate. If I were over the moon right now, giddy and unable to speak, or moved to tears, I think I would worry about myself. That’s fandom, that’s too much, too far. But I will never be as jaded as to think that the chance to meet admired artists isn’t great. I had a fantastic evening.
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