OKAY 10 MINUTES GO.
I went to see a show last night (singer-songwriter cafe type of thing). The singer is a friend, I guess we're friends at this point. He helped me through a particularly bad patch in my life, gave me some personal insight and clarity over two cups of coffee, and I think it was not a big deal to him but it was to me. So I go to his shows, clap till my hands hurt, sing along when he asks for it, dance. Try to bring new people. He's good, a showman, funny. And last night he had a drummer, box drum, which was great.
I had some thoughts at the show last night:
What do I think of people who clap with a song? Or pound the table, stamp their feet, sing along with the words they know, dance in their seats? I tend to think that those people are annoying. I tend to think, I came to see and hear HIM, not YOU. I tend to think it's attention-grabby and annoying. And yet I did dance last night, to the last song, got up and did the twist, and it was fun. So what does that mean?
I so like observational poetry (can I call it that?); Frank O'Hara seems to me so clean and beautiful, and yet I often feel like songwriters are stuck in a "write what you know" rut where what they know is… I don't know, it feels uncomfortable in a way I think it shouldn't. "Tom's Diner" is a perfect example of the sort of song I mean, except that it doesn't bother me the way that, say, "You're Beautiful" does (I was on the subway and I saw a pretty girl with another guy. THE END. Seriously?). So what makes the line between a simple and lovely observation and a trite one?
Why is it that when I so value originality, there are few things as guaranteed to delight me as a clever cover? Cake's "I Will Survive", the tragic, pathos-laden cover of "I Kissed a Girl", or Chris's cover of "…One More Time", goosebumps and a grin every time.
AND: SCENE.
tuckova 