I have a longer, serious post for later on the same subject, but for now, only celebration and sharing. After 18 years (either I am getting old, or I was ridiculously young the last time. Yes, that’s it. I was 5 in 1991. At a GNR show. In the pit. Yeah.), I got to see Duff play live again and finally had the opportunity to see Loaded in action. I am delighted that I took the time to get up to Nashville to see them–the show was well worth the drive.
The pics included here attempt to document the inveterate silliness that occurs on the Loaded stage, as band members plot and harass and cajole each other and the audience into sharing in the good time. Readers, if you have the chance to see them (oh, look, a list of dates!), take the opportunity–make the opportunity, for few bands have the energy (even if Red Bull…ummm… “enhanced”), camaraderie, or excitement as this band. The segues in and out of band and fan favorites in the midst of “I Wanna Be Your Dog” (including a hint of Judas Priest, an appearance by ZZ Top, and scores of others) is alone worth the price of admission.
Gentlemen, should you ever see this, my hat is off to you. Thank you for such a fabulous show.
I also had the pleasure of meeting two women, duffdiver and rhyte (nicknames are theirs from the Loaded fan forum), who epitomize musical fandom and allowed me to share in a brief retreat back to 15-year-old girl concert craziness. Seriously groovy ladies, they are. Even managed to get a few excellent book recommendations from them (Loaded seems to draw in an awful lot of English degrees in the fanbase).
Now, as befits the geekiness of this blog, I do have to share one tiny thing. One infinitesimal detail about the evening, that, as you can imagine, I have mulled and pondered and tried REALLY, REALLY hard not to drive G crazy with.
I got to meet the band after the show, and after Duff’s shout out to me in his SW blog, I thought I was prepared for the event. Squires, Jeff (a god of the stage, I must assure you–wow), and Geoff were terribly groovy and gentlemanly, even as I quite clearly geeked out over meeting Duff. Cause, you know, haven’t idolized the man for 22 years or anything. Okay, truth be told, I managed to keep my cool–didn’t geek out (completely) and even managed to introduce myself to Duff. The exchange when like this (remember, all of us were suffering post-traumatic-hearing-loss, so I’m editing a few “huh’s?” out of the exchange):
K: Hi (shakes Duff’s hand), I’m Kris (cool, ain’t I?), from your SW blog.
D: (leaning in, hearing being what it is at this point in the evening). Hi. You’re who?
This is the part where I would usually have died and walked away.
K: (louder, realizing he’s as deaf as she is) Kris, from your SW blog.
D: (eyes wide & incredulous): You’re fuckin’ Kris?
I will never hear my name quite the same way again. (*grinning as she types*)
D: Okay, so you’re not a professor? (not sure what I said in response to his blog that gave this impression, but it was the second time someone had asked me that during the evening. So for clarification, he was half-right in his blog: I am a professor, but I am not from Seattle. Unfortunately.)
And so on….
He was very cordial and complementary, even saying that he found my little blog inspirational.
At which point I fainted.
I maintained my cool (sort of), and thanked him, completely awestruck…even gobsmacked…again. Cause, like, you know…22 years. My hero–one of the coolest musicians I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, certainly one whose life and work has provided much aural pleasure and, indeed, inspiration over the years–said that I (or at least what I write) am inspirational.
I am humbled once again.
My fuckin’ hero.