Emergency!
Thursday, November 18, 2004
  Gordon Downey, You Make Me Hot.
Once upon a time, a girl went to a Tragically Hip concert with one of her best friends and one of his other fast-talking friends. She at first was really bewildered at the whole prospect, having never stepped foot in Rexall center before, but as soon as they sat down in their floor seats, she felt the tension mount. The burning excitement of seeing a heroic band she'd idolized for the last five years rose inside of her as she tried to memorize every detail around her before the show started, tittering rapidly and hypertastically with her friend about the headliners who were taking their sweet time to get to the stage after Joel Plaskett Emergency.

JPE was pretty good though, she found. Good beat, strong voice, and tight sets- and she made up her mind to buy a cd of them at a later date. If only for concert posterity's sake. The headliners started hinting that their set was almost over, and the girls stomach began to knot and unknot, her hands couldn't keep still, articulating their excitement in rapid fluttery movements. She couldn't keep her body still, it was humming in anticipation despite the ache of fatigue that lingered on her settled bones. She rubbed her hands together, something she never thought she'd be guilty of doing when excited, unlike her youngest brother and mother. She wiggled in her seat. She had nothing useful to say. She couldn't look her friend in the eyes for fear that she might leap upon him and hug the crap out of him because she was so happy to be there.

When the show actually started, the crowd went nuts. She'd never seen a crowd that large go that crazy when the lights went down and shadows flitted promisingly in front of projection lights that flared intermittently. Four men came onto stage, and that's when the madness escalated. It seemed like she was surrounded by a seething and frothing sea of hands flailing, in the thunder of applause, shouting and screaming. She screamed so loud she surprised herself, wondered if she'd have a hoarse throat at the end of the night.

They played all the old favorites, all the new favorites, and the girl couldn't get enough. She rocked out, caught herself singing along loudly- constantly berating herself to shut up, and moved and moved and moved, to the point where she thought the incessant motion would drive her two companions nuts, that they would expatriate her from the wedged position in which she was standing.

So, you get the point- the show was absolutely amazing. I am actually sort of speechless still, so I apologise if the abovementioned crap...is really just a bunch of crap. It's true, but I honestly am at a loss for words.

One thing that struck me as strange though, is that though the concert was hugely important to me, and I enjoyed it immensly and it was fantastically done with no complaints from myself, is that it didn't touch me the way that one very small in comparison concert did. The Hip impacted me, but I think that my attraction to them is much more aesthetical than anything else, though the lyrics are pretty awesome still. But Buck 65 just was different. It was a whole other method of expression that I learned that night, and it just reached out and shook me hard, knocking my brain around in my head. Others may argue that I had some sort of other bias as to why that particular concert was so amazing, but it wasn't so. I have this bizarre love affair with words. Sure, I spell them wrong, I mispronounce them, I make them up, but they completely enthrall me with meaning, sound, appearance and all sorts of other intangible things. I am not really embarrassed for saying words out of context anymore, because I realize that sometimes I just say a word because I want to say it in that moment. It gets me in trouble, and it gets me exasperated lectures from friends, but I don't care. Epitomy. Correlation. Straits of Northumberland themselves... Gastrointestinitis...diarrhea (how can such a fun word to say, be so foul?) There used to be a song about Diarrhea that we sung in in school. Or maybe it was just me singing "Diiiiarrhea, Diarrhea, something something something something, something something something...." to the tune of Hallelujah. Bah, probably just me singing about doody on the monkey bars with Jarvis.
 
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