Sunday....It was finally time.
I got to see The Cure live for the first time in my life and was it ever worth the wait. I cannot explain how much I listened to them while I was in high school and my early years of college. I tend to be a tad bit obsessive about listening to music and will almost over do it. It was certainly no different back then, maybe even slightly worse. I listened so much to some albums that I didn't want to listen to them for two or three years straight. Within the last five years, I've slowly reintegrated them back into my collection and have fallen in love with them all over again. So....when the opportunity to see them live became a reality, I naturally jumped at the chance.
It's funny, once we purchased the tickets in January, I did something exactly the opposite of what I ordinarily do. I didn't really revisit the CDs that I had, nor did I play the songs much at all. I didn't obsess over the music. I hummed the tunes that I loved and remembered and waited. I waited in secret anticipation. I quietly marked off the days until I got to see them. I made no special effort to get to know them better or different. To be honest, I didn't want to ruin the sound by over hearing it, but I also wanted to see the show that The Cure would put on and I wanted to take it in and listen without expectations. This was an unintentional present for me as many songs unwrapped something new and old in me at the same time.
For some songs that I had heard, but didn't remember well, it was like hearing them for the first time. For some songs, it was the first time I had heard them at all(new songs rock by the way). For some songs, I sang along to every single word that because they were so deeply embedded into my memory. For others, I sang many of the words, but couldn't remember them all. For all of them, I simply enjoyed the moment I was getting and giggled and smiled through three hours of spectacular musicians doing what they do best - with a little Robert Smith flare.
For those dozen or so songs that I remember so well that I could recall every word, they admittedly made the night for me. They were from different albums and different times in my life, and the memories that they recalled were as vivid as if I were hearing the song years ago while living in that very moment. I think this could best be defined as surreal. I can't explain it, but that's how intimately connected I was at those times to this music.
Music is such an intensely personal medium and it's tied to delicately to our heart without our even being aware. I will not soon forget last night or what I felt.
Of course, I also won't forget Mason turning to me every time Robert Smith spoke and saying with a laugh "I cannot understand a single word he's saying. He's the British Boomhauer". Meanwhile, he was reintroducing himself to a band he had long ago forgotten about and smiling right along side of me. The Cure for a new generation of memories, kicked off by a spectacular and probably once in a lifetime opportunity for me.
It's funny, once we purchased the tickets in January, I did something exactly the opposite of what I ordinarily do. I didn't really revisit the CDs that I had, nor did I play the songs much at all. I didn't obsess over the music. I hummed the tunes that I loved and remembered and waited. I waited in secret anticipation. I quietly marked off the days until I got to see them. I made no special effort to get to know them better or different. To be honest, I didn't want to ruin the sound by over hearing it, but I also wanted to see the show that The Cure would put on and I wanted to take it in and listen without expectations. This was an unintentional present for me as many songs unwrapped something new and old in me at the same time.
For some songs that I had heard, but didn't remember well, it was like hearing them for the first time. For some songs, it was the first time I had heard them at all(new songs rock by the way). For some songs, I sang along to every single word that because they were so deeply embedded into my memory. For others, I sang many of the words, but couldn't remember them all. For all of them, I simply enjoyed the moment I was getting and giggled and smiled through three hours of spectacular musicians doing what they do best - with a little Robert Smith flare.
For those dozen or so songs that I remember so well that I could recall every word, they admittedly made the night for me. They were from different albums and different times in my life, and the memories that they recalled were as vivid as if I were hearing the song years ago while living in that very moment. I think this could best be defined as surreal. I can't explain it, but that's how intimately connected I was at those times to this music.
Music is such an intensely personal medium and it's tied to delicately to our heart without our even being aware. I will not soon forget last night or what I felt.
Of course, I also won't forget Mason turning to me every time Robert Smith spoke and saying with a laugh "I cannot understand a single word he's saying. He's the British Boomhauer". Meanwhile, he was reintroducing himself to a band he had long ago forgotten about and smiling right along side of me. The Cure for a new generation of memories, kicked off by a spectacular and probably once in a lifetime opportunity for me.
Oh, and finally, major major gratitude to Clare, Nick and Mason for driving back at 1:00 c.s.t. for just about three hours through the darkest of night. Here's to nuclear power, and other hot topics that kept them up and talking. I know my limitations and staying awake once it's dark is not one of them. If it had been up to me, well...it wasn't.