lightening strikes, maybe once, maybe twice

2003-09-13 - 12:02 a.m.

i think about fleetwood mac the way i imagine most people think about the beatles. i see them as one of the core bands that make up music, and just about every modern band or singer that i love today has been influenced in some way or another by fleetwood mac. that includes my own music. they are legend, yet they are the root of so many wonderful things pertaining music and what it says and how to play it.

on my drive home i listened to 'the very best of fleetwood mac' for about 97% of the trip. good thing it's a double disc. i was psyching myself up for this momentous event in my life, this pinnacle of things that i love connecting in the town where i was born: family, music, legend, roots. laura and i were taking mom to see fleetwood mac for her birthday. it just doesn't get any cooler.

so i cleaned up, bathed in rose water and ylang ylang, put on purple and sparkles and gloss, then wore what i think is my coolest outfit to date: my black shirt with loose sleeves held together with leather laces, my stretch dark blue jeans, and a wine-coloured skinny scarf with faint sparkles hidden within the folds. some silver jewelry in the ears and on the wrist, then my new zealand necklace, and finally, after scooping my hair up into two purple combs, i was hip, gorgeous, and ready for the nightlife. ready to face the face of music with my loved ones at my side.

after a great dinner together moo dropped us off at the arena, and none too soon, for we heard on the radio that there would be no opening band. sweet! just fleetwood as far as the eye can see and ear can hear. mom stopped to use the restroom so laura and i went on down to the floor to find our seats. we were in row 52 on the floor, and i had no idea if those seats were good or bad. as we walked down the steps i muttered a prayer under my breath: 'please don't let the seats be bad, please don't let the seats be bad...' we found a gentleman in an orange jacket and asked him where our seats were. he said that he believed that row 52 was the very last row. my heart instantly took the tower of terror plunge, only there was no safety net holding it back, so it plummeted from my chest and landed splattering on the floor in exactly .8 seconds. sure enough, ours were the very last seats in the very last row.

when mom came back she was all smiles, and i tried not to cry, i really did, but i teared up all the same, despite my knowledge that i was wearing makeup for the first time in many many months. my mom is wee, a petite, cute little lady, probably the tiniest lady in the arena, and she was at the very back where there was no way on earth that she would be able to see anything. and this was her birthday present, and one of her favourite bands of all time, and it was all supposed to be so special and wonderful, but instead we paid oodles of money to see nothing but the screens hoisted above either side of the stage. i need not tell you that i was in agony, dear reader. and not just for myself and my sibling, but most especially for my wee sweet momma, and her unfailing smile broke my heart all the more. and the seats were supposed to be 'best available,' a mere hour and a half after they went on sale. so there i was, anally raped by ticketbastard once again, trying my best not to show what agony i was in at the sight of my pinnacle come crashing down and through the other side.

once fleetwood mac appeared on stage in the flesh (or so we assumed from all the cheers and clapping around us) we saw a few people standing on chairs, so momma hopped up onto her own chair and held her children's shoulders for support. i knew it wouldn't last, but since we were at the back i had brief hope. after a mere minute or so a security guard came by and told her not to stand on her seat. (visions of that fateful tori shameless concert flashed through my head, the tearful girl in the front row unable to see for the masses of people in front of her.) after that mom went out and stood in the aisle, which was extremely wide. we thought that might be okay, but then when i stood up and eased out a man in a blue shirt told me to find my seat. sigh. so i went back in the aisle as mom still craned her head trying desperately to see. just then i noticed that laura was talking to a man in a blue shirt. she was asking him if there was any way that we could stand in the aisle or move further up. he was nice and told her to ask a man in a grey shirt. so she did just that, only the man in the grey shirt was hateful, telling her no way. he could have been nice about it, but he wasn't. this pissed my mom off.

mom knew a woman selling pretzels in the arena from work, so as soon as ol' hateful left she booked it up to the pretzel stand and told her friend of our predicament. her friend, in turn, talked to a woman in an orange jacket, and so it was that mom came flying back down to our crap seats, told us to follow her, and we were led to much better seats in the stands right beside the stage. after that everything just got better. everything fell into place.

as they performed 'rhiannon' laura leaned over and said, 'i can't believe i'm seeing stevie nicks!' i grinned and agreed. it was amazing to think that we were so close to such musical wonders. when lindsey buckingham began to play the sweet simple strings of 'never going back again' laura turned to me with a smile and said, 'it's your song!' and so it is, one that i love quite dearly. laura later confessed that she always thinks of me when she hears it, and i like that. i sang along with stevie during 'gypsy,' amazed and awed that i was singing with stevie nicks. she even changed into her gypsy dress just for that one song. when they played 'landslide' mom and i sang together with stevie, and mom would lean on my shoulder every time we sang the line 'children get older and i'm getting older, too.' that song always makes me think of my mom, and it's one of her favourites. laura's face lit up when the first few notes of 'tusk' began. that was the song she'd been waiting all night for. it was crazy, the energy in that room, on the stage, from my family, that built as the song went on and on.

as i watched stevie nicks sing and float and play her tambourine, i had a sudden flash in my head: i want to be stevie nicks. it was lightening quick and sharp, a thought with no residue, but once there in my brain it was implanted for good. the rest of the night i watched her, thinking, 'that could be me. i could do that. i want to do that. i want to sing and float and reach out to people all over the world with my music.' what's kind of funny is that i've never really wanted to be a famous singer. i've wanted to be famous, but for acting or doing some noble deed. and i've long wanted to be a singer in more of a capacity than my bedroom and the occasional college choir. but i'd always strived to be known for making good music within a certain genre, like a projekt band or someone from the cleopatra label. known to a devoted few, but still able to go to the grocery store for oranges without wearing sunglasses. however, tonight i believed that i could handle fame as long as i was fulfilled and happy and always doing my own thing. i could be like stevie nicks, singing and floating and playing the tambourine, commanding the stage but not overwhelming it (as lindsey buckingham could do sometimes). i wanted it, not the celebrity so much but just the job, and i felt that i could handle the fame that went with the career. i just want to sing. i want to lead people in huge massive sing-alongs, showing them the melody with my voice and my microphone but inviting them to join me. happy, fulfilled, loving what i do and doing what i love. ah, tis a grand dream. how can i go back home and dream of being a writer when i've got visions of stevie nicks floating in my head?

i'm so very tired, so just a few things to finish this up: towards the end they sang 'you can go your own way,' to my joy, then 'don't stop.' as the latter one started up laura gestured to the teaming crowd below us and said, 'look at all the democrats.' mick fleetwood is the fuckin' bomb, doing these amazing drum solos with the biggest shit-eatin' grin on his face. at one point he moved from playing the drums like a madman to standing at the mike playing a single bongo, then he threw down the bongo but kept rhythm with the bongo player behind him by playing his belly. he howled and grunted and he wore a dashing little striped elf outfit with red suede shoes. what a charmer. he and stevie simply radiate magic.

and so, in the end, the night really was a pinnacle of everything. it was everything bad about a concert, then quickly it changed to everything not just good but amazing about a concert. mom had a grand time, singing and dancing, and she was delighted to see that the band used a teleprompter and so she would tell us when good songs were coming up and read lyrics out loud to us, trying to get us to guess the song before the band ever played one note. it was a grand concert, and i'm so glad that i got to see it with my older sister and my mom. and now i have some new dreams to chew on.