8/13/16
As I have mentioned in the past, Pam is a saint. Our Adele experience just reinforced my awareness of it. We see lots of shows, and Pam is in charge of ticket acquisition, a job she loves and hates at the same time. Adele tickets went on sale months ago. Demand was so great that the ticket websites crashed about ten minutes after the sale started. Most people were shut out, as the shows sold out in minutes, but not Pam.
She had asked me if I would go see Adele. I said s
ure, but I really had no idea what Adele sang. Yeah, I knew she sang Skyfall, but I could not have recited one word of the lyrics or hummed one note of the melody. I thought it would be a great show because I had heard it said she had an amazing voice. Pam knew one or two of her songs, so she set out to get the tickets. Turns out she did a bang up job. She got us the best seats we have ever had at Staples without using connections or StubHub. They were four rows off the floor. They were just far enough into the arena so we had a perfect viewing angle to the stage. Adele would be mere yards away when she sang. The only issue was that the seats were in the middle of the row, a place Pam dreads. She overcame her dread and bought the seats right before the sites crashed.
So, yeah. We were going to Adele. Then reality set in for me. I started to learn a bit about her and her music. Pam played me a song from her new album. I saw her on the Grammys. I was not impressed. This woman sang depressing songs about failed relationships. So depressing in fact, that I longed to battle the preteens at a Taylor Swift show, because at least her breakup songs were more or less upbeat.
Pam was more impressed, but she was not overwhelmed. We thought about selling the seats. The market for them was crazy, but the promoters were smart, selling us ticketless tickets which required us to use the same credit card that we used to purchase the seats in order to get in. We decided getting around that was too tough, and we resigned ourselves to the fact that we had to go to a show people were dying to see, resulting in yet another first world problem for us to deal with in our lives. Ironically, the credit card Pam used to buy the tickets was her Costco American Express card, and Costco terminated its relationship with American Express before the show. American Express shut the card down, and Pam had to keep it around for a couple of months for no other reason than swiping it on the way into the show.
Deciding to go the show did not stop me from whining about it. I am pretty good at that. Of course, both of our girls, Kimberly and Shelby, volunteered to go in my place. I saved Pam from the favoritism issues that would have resulted in her picking one of them to go by declaring that neither of them would go. I would. So besides pissing off both my girls, I came pretty close to pissing off Pam with my incessant whining, which is never a good idea, as even saints lose their patience eventually.
Downtown Los Angeles was a happening place the night of the show. The Los Angeles Rams, yup, the Los Angeles Rams, the team I grew up watching and rooting for, were playing their first game as the home team in the Los Angeles Coliseum since 1979. Despite the fact it was an exhibition game, 90,000 were in attendance for the 5 pm start. Even worse, the Pandora Summer Crush Concert with 5 Seconds of Summer and Fergie was starting at 4:30 PM at LA Live, right next to Staples. Adding the sold out Staples Center to the mix, just meant that too many people were in too small a place for me.
Because of this, we decided to get downtown early, eat dinner, and just h
ang out until the show started. Pam was smart. She dangled tequila and doughnuts, arguably not a common combination but an appealing one to me, as inducements to help me enjoy the show. We parked at a little after 5 PM and walked over to El Cholo, where a Casa Noble Anejo Tequila had my name written all over it. After dinner, we walked over to Birdies for some doughnuts made with cake batter. We bought a doughnut to go, walked over to a bus stop, waited for the bus to go by, sat down on the bus stop bench, and ate the doughnut. It was good. I was ready for the show. We walked back to Staples, fished out the dead credit card, had it swiped, and went in, but not before I had to spend what seemed like an eternity listening to Fergie make an abundance of noise that some deluded souls consider music. Oh boy, I was ready for the show. Pam could not have planned it any better.
As we settled into our seats, I realized just how good they were. Damn, I wished we could have sold them. Instead of dwelling on the negative, which is something I am also good at, I looked at the crowd as they filtered in, listened to their excited chatter about the upcoming show, and tried to guess when the screaming would start, as there were plenty of screamers all around me.
Despite my negative attitude or maybe because of it, I had a great time at the show. That woman sang the shit out of every song she sang. I didn’t hear one discordant, pitchy note the entire show. She was funny. She swore. She was self-deprecating, something I never would have expected. S
he was comfortable on stage, engaging the audience and telling quirky and personal stories. Hell, she even made a funny reference or two to the abjectly depressing songs she wrote. I realized what an amazing song writer she is and respected her for writing what resonates with her, not what is commercially expedient. Her band was off the charts good, though at times I thought the drums were too loud, sending vibrations coursing through my chest and coming close to drowning out her vocals. The overall effect was outstanding, though. I found myself videoing snippets of many songs, as I was shocked to discover just how musically good they were.
Speaking of shocked moments, she blew me away when she sat on a stool and sang a couple of songs with only acoustic instruments backing her up. The fact that she introduced them by saying she was a huge Alison Krause fan and saying that she loved country music, both high on my list, only heightened the experience for me.
Just to be clear, though, my testosterone levels have not plummeted precipitously, and I have not eaten enough soy to spike my estrogen levels. I am still a guy, and despite how good a show it was, Adele’s music just does not resonate with me. I was there. I liked it. I was impressed by it. I just did not feel it. I was a silent island in a sea of people who sang every word of ever
y one of her songs. I loved their enjoyment. I tolerated their screams. I revelled in their intensity. But I could not share any of it. I came in without knowing a single lyric and I left the same way.
What pleased me the most was Pam. She loved the show, and that made me smile, knowing full well that there was a good chance I would be seeing Adele perform again. I just hoped that next time I would still get the tequila and doughnuts.