The Cars

In other "looking backward, not forward" news, I stumbled across this concert video of "The Cars" circa 1979 last evening. 

The Boston-based Cars were, I suppose, my gateway drug into what became known as New Wave - national bands like Blondie, Talking Heads, Pretenders, Cheap Trick, The Police, Elvis Costello, B-52s, and yes, The Knack - bleeding over into punk, to brit-rock, to ska. I blame Jim Reedy who was (and still is, no doubt) far more musically progressive than myself. I'm not sure if we ever saw them live in small clubs in Boston (it's possible that we did, Jim was adventurous and a positive influence that way) - I know I saw them in '79 at the Yale Bowl* for SunFest79 (Beach Boys, Eddie Money, Flo & Eddie, Henry Paul Band, The Cars) and again during college (Boston Garden, it's possible the Clash or one of their off-shoots opened, the internets are not cooperating this morning in terms of documenting the show)

I'm struck by how "small club rock & roll" they seem here, rough around the edges and unpolished compared to modern standards. Remembering the individual members (one of the few groups I came to learn all the band-member's names), remember playing "Good Times Roll" in Jim's basement. Did not realize bassist Ben Orr passed away so long ago (2000) and so young (53, pancreatic cancer) - he kind of has a bit of a "Sting" vibe here.

Nice to take a look back. The Cars made the jump to MTV, but broke up in 1988. I picked up a Best of Anthology on CD along the way but I never replaced my vinyl copies of The Cars or Candy-O. I remained a big enough fan to pick up Panorama, Shake It Up, and Heartbeat City on vinyl back in the day (all long gone), but I dropped out by the time they released "Door to Door" which I do not remember at all.

* I also went to the 1980 edition - The Eagles, Heart, and Little River Band - and I wore an Eagles baseball concert shirt often enough for my artistic college roomie to make it my signature garb when caricaturing me. This second concert is a blur - I had worked the overnight shift at McD's. And somebody (Robin V?) had pot which I rarely smoked but did that day, all I remember is being about as far back as possible in the Yale Bowl and my fatigued, sun-baked, and stoned brain thought I was watching the concert on TV.

Mike Birbiglia in Boston

Traveled up the the Wilbur Theater last evening to see Mike Birbiglia in concert.

 Not my usual stomping grounds, but a friend from a long-ago mindfulness series, who has remained a connection through the magic of a few common friends and Facebook, had picked up tickets before she realized it was Valentine's Day and her usual concert buddies would be doing coupled things. So she reached out, and I am so glad she did.

Not sure I've ever been to a large venue "comedian" concert - the CT Forum does not quite count, perhaps some comic nights at a bar. In some ways very much like a concert (I could swear I've been to the Wilbur in my youth, maybe to see Pretenders or Cheap Trick or somebody back in the day, although a lot of these halls look the same) in some ways a bit less crazy and loud. Lot of women in the crowd, I think a tribute to Mr. Birbiglia's audience as well as the date.

I got familiar with Mike Birbiglia mostly through This American Life (follow the link for a page of all his contributions), his book and movie Sleepwalk with Me, and the 2009 TAL livecast Return to the Scene of the Crime. Last night, I realized our roots are similar (Catholic school, he grew up in Shrewsbury MA, near my alma mater Worcester Polytechnic Institute). Topics included yoga(!), laties vs. earlies, religion. Mike brought forth a few self-effacing "inappropriate performance" stories, including a Muppet TV show (his first word was a swear), a baseball writer's dinner (he failed to notice the honoree was blind and tried to shake his hand, then got an attitude when the guy ignored him), a christian school (he riffed on Jesus, the socialist Jew, returning, who, as he noted "are not high up on most Christians' list of favorite people")

It was a great evening, although I was not perhaps laughing hysterically, my face hurt from smiling. Opening up form Mr. Birbiglia was comedian Jon Fisch who did a good job, mining the "single guy" thing with funny stories abouttoo many meals at his favorite sushi place, his nieces, his lack of hair.

And so nice to get out of my "rut" - Thea, my friend, is lovely, creative, and engaged in life (singing, art, etc.) - and it was fun to just hang out, chat, ride the "T" in from Riverside, and hit the big(ger) city.

Patriot's Day

I recall a moment watching the world trade center towers falling and thinking "50,000 dead". That was my mental calculation of the number of lost souls on that horrible day based on a quick web search of the occupancy of the buildings and the timing of the attacks and subsequent collapses. And so when the lost and missing were finally tallied, and the number was well below 10% of that, there was a part of me that was kind of relieved. 

I feel a little bit that way about Boston right now. It could have been worse, much worse. Not to say that the deaths are not tragic, that the injuries, so like those experienced by US troops in Iraq and Afghanistan are not horrific. But the scent of a greater tragedy averted are in the air. A person of interest was reportedly stopped at a security checkpoint, perhaps attempting to get a bomb into a more densely packed and damaging area. A Penske rental truck was turned away at a checkpoint - part of the plot or not, the security was doing its job. And the choice of targets was about as densely packed with first responders, with police and EMS waiting for the finishing runners armed with supplies, wheelchairs, and stretchers, as one could image.

I've never lived in Boston, but it is my "home town" as much as anyplace - I did the morning Red Sox game / marathon thing once in high school, I've gone to games, gone clubbing, done the tourism thing, visited yoga studios in the neighborhood of the bombing. I've worked right downtown doing freelance work, I've got friends who live in the city.

It's time to sit back and wait. The crime scene folks will find stuff - surveillance video, spectator photos and videos, pieces of the bombs exploded or no. The threads of a narrative will come together in this social media and security conscious age, and we'll know the story soon enough.

I am most disturbed by the "you messed with the wrong city" meme, knowing how easily such righteous anger can translate into jingoism, bullying, racism, xenophobia.

Remember that time we went to war with a country that had nothing to do with the terrorism attacks on our country, based on anger, stupidity and manipulation? Remember how much that war has cost us in lives, in treasure, in reputation?

Yeah, me too. Today, especially.

Love That Dirty Water

One of the off-shoots of Camp Camp 2012 is that I met someone.

Won't go into too much detail, other than she is my age, is a lovely amalgam of goofball, sweetie, and hottie, and lives along the Boston greenway. And so my energy is drawn back to Boston, after many years. There is a largish camp enclave in Boston, and I think I'll end up visiting this coming year.

Kind of weird - I've lived in Connecticut my entire adult life - since graduating in college in '83. Yet Massachusetts was where I came of age - learned to drive, went to ball games and concerts, took the T. I have a certain familiarity and fondness for Beantown.

So when I drove up for a visit last weekend, it was all familiar, comfortable. And although I drove through more rotaries in one car trip than I have in the past calendar year en route to West Roxbury. It was altogether familiar.

We took two laps around Jamaica Pond, which was beautiful and fun - sort of like the WH Reservoirs in energy but embedded in the city - not reserved for the suburban crowd.

I miss having a queer community. I miss having friends who might drop by and visit, or who might call up for dinner, music, a movie, or a night on the couch watching TV. And finally, with my mom getting older, and we siblings starting to face our own mortality, the prospect of moving back to the Boston area seems a lot less like an unreasonable than it might have in the recent past.

I do not move around a lot - I've been in CT nearly 30 years and have lived in just three homes over the past 25 years. So the idea of picking up and moving is a lot to wrap my mind around.

But, if one intends to turn an aircraft carrier, one starts planning for that a long time before one makes the turn. let's just say I am thinking about it....