It’s cold out tonight, and night came early. I never seem to be ready for the sudden shift when we set the clocks back… it’s time to settle in for long evenings of stews and wine and writing and long chats. If only I had a fireplace…
Anyway, it’s been an interesting couple of weeks. Some amazing shows – notably the Frames and Gotan Project, both at Metro. I started to write a review after the Frames show, but waxed so lyrical about it that I couldn’t bring myself to subject the general public to such tripe. I think I’ll leave it at this quote, from a friend who does the booking at the venue: “They are amazing, hands down one of my favorite bands of all time. Bands like the Frames are why I do this job…”
Trust me, you want to check them out.
And Gotan Project. What can I say? Tango (which in and of itself is one of the most fabulous things in the history of time), brilliant musicianship, homage and invention, gorgeous projections… I’ve got to say it was the sexiest show I’ve seen in at least 3 years – or whenever it was that Coz and I saw Prince at the Riv. And not being able to hold a candle to his reviewing skills, I think I’ll just leave it at that.
And there’s this other thing. It’s starting to become hard for me to remember that I’m leaving soon. I can feel the tug of the approaching holidays – I’m already planning my tree-trimming party, I’ll be sending out the Thanksgiving invites soon – it’s just like a normal year at home. I’ve grown attached to Chicago again, or rediscovered my attachment. And to people as well. Some days it’s hard to remember why I’m going. Then again, didn’t I say it would be hard to hang on to what I’d learned on my travels? Like a complex piece of music, it’s sometimes difficult to know which voice to listen to. Also like music, it’s only when you are able to take it in as a whole that it begins to make sense. But does that require stepping back or diving in?
may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old
may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it’s sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young
and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there’s never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile
– e.e. cummings