smooth talker
Back in April, I got tickets for my sister, mom and her bf to see indigo girls for my mom's birthday. They are touring for their newest album, Poseidon and the Bitter Bug, the first one that they've produced on their own label. The venues are more intimate and it's just them and a keyboardist, which is a style I like from them. The best thing about the show (aside from it being my mom's bf's first time seeing them live and getting to go with my sister) was that they had great energy and dusted off some old classics - I haven't heard them do stuff like Land of Canaan for 12 or 15 years.
I found out they were coming to Pittsburgh later in the tour but had no plans to go. However, I found out that the Lambda Foundation was doing a charity meet-n-greet after the show on June 21st in honor of Pride and I decided that it would be fun. My gf doesn't like them (more of a negative association then not liking them musically, although that's part of it) so I invited my friend G to go. The show was amazing; they were visibly affected by how enthusiastic and appreciative the crowd was and they fed off that energy. The set list was a bit different from the Buffalo show, but they still did some older pieces. At one point, the keyboardist and Emily left the stage and the crowd started shouting out requests for Amy to do alone. She listened while she was getting her guitar adjusted and laughingly said "I don't even know Blood and Fire anymore" before she busted out with Romeo and Juliet.
I don't consider myself a rabid fan, although I might have a skewed perspective on what that means because I have seen them in the range of 15 times in the past 20 years. Apparently I was totally kidding myself about how I'd feel, because when I got in the same room with them I lost all ability to speak coherently. When I think back on it now, I see it all through a fog with cloudy edges.
In my left hand, I'm holding a program I found from a show I saw in 1992. I was going to have them sign it (turns out it was a professional photo only thing and they weren't signing anything) but instead I stared at it and attempted to at least say that I'd been seeing them for a long time or that I appreciated them doing the photo shoot... but, no. Nothing. Emily had to redirect me and say "ok, here we go" so we could take the picture. I'm just thankful I don't look as vacant as I felt; with this picture as evidence and a litle time I'll reconstruct the exchange and remember myself as witty and charming.
I found out they were coming to Pittsburgh later in the tour but had no plans to go. However, I found out that the Lambda Foundation was doing a charity meet-n-greet after the show on June 21st in honor of Pride and I decided that it would be fun. My gf doesn't like them (more of a negative association then not liking them musically, although that's part of it) so I invited my friend G to go. The show was amazing; they were visibly affected by how enthusiastic and appreciative the crowd was and they fed off that energy. The set list was a bit different from the Buffalo show, but they still did some older pieces. At one point, the keyboardist and Emily left the stage and the crowd started shouting out requests for Amy to do alone. She listened while she was getting her guitar adjusted and laughingly said "I don't even know Blood and Fire anymore" before she busted out with Romeo and Juliet.
I don't consider myself a rabid fan, although I might have a skewed perspective on what that means because I have seen them in the range of 15 times in the past 20 years. Apparently I was totally kidding myself about how I'd feel, because when I got in the same room with them I lost all ability to speak coherently. When I think back on it now, I see it all through a fog with cloudy edges.
In my left hand, I'm holding a program I found from a show I saw in 1992. I was going to have them sign it (turns out it was a professional photo only thing and they weren't signing anything) but instead I stared at it and attempted to at least say that I'd been seeing them for a long time or that I appreciated them doing the photo shoot... but, no. Nothing. Emily had to redirect me and say "ok, here we go" so we could take the picture. I'm just thankful I don't look as vacant as I felt; with this picture as evidence and a litle time I'll reconstruct the exchange and remember myself as witty and charming.