pinkasphalt

Not too long ago, Justin and I started watching the West Wing. Actually, Justin had been watching it in England. I am the one that had been living under a rock and never seen a single episode. But I have climbed out from under my rock, and am basking, squinty-eyed, in the glow of my TV. All I can say is: West Wing, where have you been during this entire debacle otherwise know as the Bush administration? I would have liked this show at any time. It is smart, well-written, topical and funny. But it strikes a particular cord right now because this wonderful, fictitious White House seems to bear so little resemblance to the real thing. And I am so not digging the real thing.

Although President Bartlett is by no means a flawless character, the show has reminded me that we are in dire need of heroes today. I mean real heroes, not some guy who kicks a ball around and then gets paid millions to put his face on a cereal box. We need leaders of conviction and courage who can help us find our way out of this morass of fear and confusion. (And anyone who says things are not fucked up and confused, was hanging out underneath my rock on Thursday.) I sometimes wonder though, if a political hero is possible in today

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

Maya Angelou, On the pulse of morning

Jus and I went out to the Montreux Jazz Festival last night. The tickets were part of Justin’s birthday present and had therefore been purchased with his musical tastes in mind. As a bit of background, he and I have two seperate iTunes libraries for a very specific reason: my music rocks and his is crap. Suffice it to say, I didn’t have very high expectations for the evening. I must say though, it ended up being one of the best, most fun Montreux shows I have ever been to and we are naming our first child Elvis. Even if its a girl.

First up was Emiliana Torrini. I had listened to one of her songs at some point, but I couldn’t remember if I had liked it or not. She came out onstage and looked and sounded really nervous. It was to the point that the first couple of songs were almost painful to watch. She sounded fine, but she looked so nervous and uncomfortable, that it made me uncomfortable just to watch. She warmed up after a bit though and ending up playing a pretty good set. Her voice spanned the range from fragile to lush and her songs were carefully crafted, quirky stories. Her quirkiest stories however, were told between songs. We got to hear about her at age 8, writing a song with a friend, and mailing the cassette off, in an envelope addressed to “Janet Jackson, USA”. And she told us about her summer in London with her best friend, eating Haagen Dazs and very, very fried chicken, with “Love is a Battlefield” as their anthem. She said she describes her music as slow-motion thrash metal. I wouldn’t call it that, but I would say it’s good. Songs that stuck out were “Sunny Road” and “Heartstopper” and “Nothing Brings Me Down”.

The second act was the whole reason we were at Montreux that night. Elvis Costello. Now, I must admit up front, I wasn’t overly psyched to see this part of the show. Justin once gave me an Elvis Costello cd and I listened to a few tracks, thought “Eh, whatever” and put it on the shelf where it has remained ever since. However no sacrifice is too big for my husband, and if spending a couple hours listening to this guy would make Justin happy, then that is what we were going to do. Aren’t I awesome Anyway, he comes onstage, and my first thought was “Clearly, this man is blind.” Bright pink shirt with embroidered flowers, a deep purple suit, some kind of fucked up iridescentish greenish tie, and glittery, pointy shoes. In case you missed that, glittery pointy shoes. Justin tried to tell me the shoes were just very shiny patent leather, but I knows glitter when I sees it. So, he comes on stage with his band and they start doing their thing and for about the first half of the first song I thought, “This is going to be a long evening. Good thing we’re sitting.” He was singing in this wierd way that was almost out of tune and out of rhythm with the rest of the band and I just wasn’t feeling it. But then something happened. The band started rocking. He started rocking. And the wierd singing started to grow on me. It was awesome. Pretty soon I had to get up and go dance, leaving Justin (80 year old trapped in a 30-something’s body) sitting. If the show had ended then, it would have been fun. But then Elvis had all the people standing in the back come sit on the floor in the front and he came down off the stage and did a Nick Lowe cover that had a whole singing-kumbaya-by-the-campfire vibe going on. And anyone that has been to a concert with me knows I am a sucker for that kind of stuff. Then he got one of the VIP suits in the front row to move and sat there and sang for a while, including a deliciously recursive moment of Elvis singing Elvis. (Suspicious Minds, for those of you who are interested, which happens to be one of my favorites). He finally got back on the stage, and by then all us rabble-rousers were upfront, in front of the VIP suits (hehe) and so we stayed up there and rocked out. All in all, I think he played for over 2.5 hours and it was super groovy. He rocked. His mad-scientist-looking keyboard guy rocked. His hairy-backed drummer rocked. The whole thing was excellent. Truly, truly excellent. Which is why we are naming our little girl Elvis.