November 21, 2008

Forgettable

As previously mentioned, I go to movies with Armand, and concerts with Baltar. It's our thing. Or one of our things.

Armand and I also debate the merits of Tilda Swinton and Adrien Brody, but that's neither here nor there.

Anyway, we go to a lot of concerts, and I take a lot of pictures at the concerts. Having played in multiple bands in my earlier years, and attended lots of concerts, I have some hearing damage, and always (always!) wear plugs. Plus, being a geek, I keep track of setlists.

To both facilitate plugged communication and remember the order of the songs, I carry a small pad of paper, a large Sharpie, and a black Bic. These things live in my small camera bag, the one that can kind of masquerade as a purse, and that has velcro compartments that can sort of hide the fact that I am entering a venue with (gasp!) detachable lenses (which are, apparently, some kind of badness in the eyes of theaters if not bands). What happens with relative frequency is that between the last show and the next, I manage to upload the shots to Flickr, but don't clean out the bag, and then just dump everything on my desk, repack and go. The detritus usually includes gum/cough drop wrappers, empty film canisters/boxes, stray pieces of paper from the pad, and maps of the last town (if it was a road trip).

This evening I was tidying my desk an consolidating all the photography paraphernalia, and picked up a piece of paper from an April show in Pittsburgh, on which I had scribbled a note to Baltar as we waited for Lucero to come on and listened to the warm up band:

Goddam that Andy Summers was a helluva guitarist.

I know we're not so old that we've seen it all before, but sometimes, in IMS-land, it sure as hell does feel like it.

Posted by binky at November 21, 2008 08:55 PM | TrackBack | Posted to Music | Pure Unadulterated Snark | Random Thoughts


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