I am behind on my blogging. I've been preoccupied with other things and consequently, I have a small notepad with snippets of conversation, observation and general crap that were supposed to be blogs. I looked at it this morning and have no idea what they meant.
The term, "dumb ass" comes to mind.
One thing I remember clearly is the amazing show on Saturday night with Chris Cornell.
At the risk of repeating myself, I love this man. He is an incredible lyrist and is equally gifted in singing range and talent. It doesn't hurt that's he's in great shape and sexy as hell, in that tattooed-rock-god kinda fashion. The hubby and I crammed ourselves within two feet of the stage so I could get the most of the experience.
He also puts on one helluva show. He sang his ass off for two-and-a-half hours. He covered songs from two decades, three bands and even managed to squeeze in a few new songs from his album.
He did a short accoustic set -- just a stool, his voice and a pearl-inlaid Gibson guitar -- which included one of my favorites, "I Am the Highway." When he last visited St. Louis, he did an acoustic version of "She Can't Change Me" which he didn't do this time, but I guess I can't complain.
Music plays such a big role in my life as it is, but to experience a favorite artist live, in great form and in a small venue is a step closer to Heaven. It's a peerless experience: from the moment they turn on the amps and the hair stands up on your arm from the electrical current, until the ringing in your ears finally subsides two days later. There is just something about a live show that drives me wild.
The group did two encores and finished with an amazing 20-minute jam session covering Led Zepplin's, "Whole Lotta Love." For a minute there, I swear he was singing just for me...
Shake for me, girl. I wanna be your backdoor man.
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