Ninety minutes of misery
that's how I had determined to classify the concert as the first half wound down to the intermission. My wife tried to persuade my daughter to leave at that point, but daughter wanted to see more David Archuleta. He only did one number during the first half and she knew that he would be doing at least one more song. So we didn't slip away like thieves in the night. That was probably for the best as the second half showed some improvement--in fact, it would have been a nice concert if it had consisted of only the second half. Actually, there was a piano solo that I believe came before the intermission which I thought was great--the piano solo, I mean, not the intermission.
I received some free tickets to a concert (a food donation was required). The concert featured Marie Osmond, David Achuleta, and Alex Boye -- that's all I knew about it. I left the decision about going to wife and daughter. Daughter decided she wanted to go--so we did.
Before I reveal what a horrible person I am by sharing the details about the concert that made it subjectively unpleasant for me, let me say that in addition to the piano solo, there were a few other bright spots, and I think that many of those in attendance enjoyed it in its entirety, or were at least enthusiastic about the show. I'll
Seating: My tickets were general admission. Two staff members, young men (late teens or early twenties), responded to my question about where we were allowed to sit with an answer that led me to believe that only the front portion of the floor seating was reserved. I suggested some seats in the back that looked directly forward to the stage. Daughter chose a nice seat on the side that gave her a view of the stage--then we had to move when folks started arriving with reserved seats in that section. I spoke with another staff member. She told me I could sit anywhere in the gray areas. I told her that didn't help me (the reason being that although certain seating sections were marked in gray on her map, the actual seat sections was not marked in gray). She explained that the general admission seating began at section A6. I noted that no one was sitting in that section. I selected seats just beyond A6 that would allow us to watch without turning our heads to the side the entire time. Then my wife saw some seats remaining in the section in which I had first suggested we sit. So we moved again.
The seats were decent. I think some signage or perhaps some staffers who both knew what the seating arrangements were supposed to be and who were equipped to explain that would have been helpful.
Sonic sewage sound system and The Lights of Zetar:
Crazy clapping choir: The backup choir of a hundred (or fewer) women and girls (maybe there were men too, but I didn't notice any) sounded nice and did not lack for enthusiasm. They liked to raise their arms and clap their hands above their heads. I didn't see the need for that clapping most of the time. They also did a lot of swaying back and forth and raising they hands into the air and looking at them as though they were having their first experience with some mind altering substance. Such activity could be regularly accepted procedure in some religious services but I found it rather disconcerting (disconcerting--yeah, I went there).
The mystifying music: I must say that I had not realized beforehand that the concert was intended to be a religious experience. That proposition did not put me off. I had very high hopes; given the headliners who were doing the show, my expectations groveled not. Therefore, when the arrow of disappointment struck, it struck to the bone (cue the Golden Earring song). Most of the music was performed by Nashville Tribute Band. I had seen these guys on PBS once and had watched for a few minutes before determining that their sound wasn't for me. I'm confident that thousands love them and their music--that's great for them. I'm not a fan. The music was mystifying in the sense that most of it was utterly bewildering or perplexing. I respect people who enjoy that music but for me there was too much demented drumming and vociferous vocals. I saw it as a clash of country and strange rock music in battle for scriptural supremacy. I recognized and enjoyed two vocal selections from the entire concert.
One example I would point to was a song with vocals performed by Daniel Emmet (who I thought was quite good and I would have liked to have heard more from him without the band and sound system interference) and a woman whose name I forget. The song began so sweetly and I was confident that this would be one that I would really enjoy with two nice voices singing in harmony (at one point it made me think of "Endless Love"). Unfortunately, the longer the song went on, the more raucous it became. By the end the music had gone full Ozzy Osbourne off the rails on the crazy train with overpowering drums, words I couldn't make out, and red and black background on the big screen--that's not exactly the direction I'm looking to go for a religious experience.
Wacky woo-hoo lady: At least one person at the concert was having a marvelous time. She sat a row or two behind and to my right. She possessed the enthusiasm that artists love but which the audience about her hates. It must have been a transcendent encounter for her because she was moved all too frequently to articulate praise by screaming, "Woo-hoo!" Occasionally the experience became so overwhelming for her as to rob her of half her eloquence, rendering her capable of screaming only, "Woo!" It's absolutely fabulous that she had a great time. What wasn't fabulous was that her screams fit tightly into that bandwidth of sound which forms an ice pick stabbing against my inner ear. She transformed what was a strange, eerie, even slightly creepy experience into absolute torture for me. Think before you scream--I think that should be a rule; maybe even complete a puzzle and solve some trig and calculus problems, take a walk in the park and grab a bus across town before screaming.
The praiseworthy: On the one hand it was all worthy of praise for the effort expended in an attempt to accomplish something good and uplifting--so that's an "A" for effort. Thousands of pounds of food were also donated for the food bank. Praise for actual accomplishment goes to Marie Osmond. Her solo of "How Great Thou Art" was the best part of the performance in my opinion. The sound system even cooperated. She sounded wonderful. There were no drums, no wild music, no woo-hoos, just the pleasing strains of her voice in a hymn of praise. She was the phial of Galadriel in Shelob's lair. David Archuleta's second half performance of "Glorious" also illuminated the darkness with wondrous flair--flare with flair. Daughter's favorite was Archuleta's lead during the final number of the concert. I put it up there with the piano solo.
***
After the concert, I expected to finish writing Power to Hurt but I saw that Forbidden Planet was on television. I needed to watch it as a follow up to reading Shakespeare's "The Tempest." So the novel will reach the first stage of completion later this week. Then editing can begin. The cover is already done. I'll post it soon.
Have you had an interesting concert experience?
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