Amanda sees a show

So I've been writing this blog for about 6 months now, and you may have noticed, I don't mention music much. This is because I am and always have been uncool when it comes to music. I'm an only child, so I never had an older sibling to introduce me to what was new and cool; instead, I found myself contentedly singing along to the tapes my parents played in the car, from Michael Jackson to Aretha Franklin, Willie Nelson, Paul Simon and the Commitments.

Today, Aretha and Paul Simon are still among my favorites. A few others - Soul Coughing, Morphine, Bjork - have joined the list, and there a number of individual songs that I love for the purposes of roadtrip playlists, but in general, finding new music and listening to music are just pretty low on my priority list. (I know, for many of you, this is like saying I don't like to breathe much, but what can I say - I am who I am.)

So, it's not surprising that I don't spend much of my free time (or money) going to shows. I used to tag along with my husband, in the spirit of being open to new things, but more often than not, it just felt like a waste of money: I got antsy, my back hurt from standing, and on occasion, the music started annoying me so much that I had to wait outside. (The last time this happened was at a Wilco show, I think - I just couldn't take one more song descending into discordant chaos. The first time it happened was at a Verve show at the old 9:30 Club - I liked their older stuff, so I took a chance, and hated the new stuff they were playing so much that I hid in the side room and pressed my hands over my ears, wishing it would stop.)

But last week, I decided to get over it and check out Joanna Newsom at the Black Cat. My husband had played me her music, and I liked it, and I was tired of being such an old lady before my time. So I put on my most comfortable shoes, with extra orthopedic support (yes, I'm serious - they're Earth brand, and I love them - hence my photographic ode to them in this post), and off we went.

The first few songs were a lot of fun... but halfway through the set, my back started hurting, and I started to wonder why I'd paid money to stand in a crowded room staring at a tall guy's back. Ten minutes later, and I was sitting on the floor in the back of the club, hoping that each song would be the last so I could go home and watch The Wire on DVD.

[a moment of hushed awe for The Wire]

I've once again concluded that the only place I'll see a show is the Birchmere, with its room full of seats - precious, precious seats. I saw Alejandro Escovedar there last year, and it was fabulous - I'm seeing him there again in a couple of weeks. I saw Aimee Mann there, too. I just don't see the point of standing - dancing, yes, but not standing.

The high point of the Joanna Newsom show, for me, was people-watching. I thought I was spying on a lesbian couple until I realized one of the women was a man. And I thought I was spying on a too-cool-for-school hipster guy until I realized he was a she.

That was fun.

"I'm not high maintenance, I just want what I want
the way I want it."
-Sally, When Harry Met Sally