Monday, February 28, 2011


Nice venue, although no one would
even know since there are no photos allowed.

"They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world's a sunny day
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away."
-Paul Simon
(There Goes Rhymin' Simon, 1973)

I love taking photographs.  More importantly, I love taking photographs at concerts.  I always have to make sure my memory card has lots of room and I have plenty of extra batteries in my purse.  I turn the flash off because the artist and band who are among the fog and flashing lights can't quite be seen in all their glory when that flash of light escapes the tiny device that's in my hands.  I hold my breath, although I am dying of excitement and itching to sing along, and steady my arm on the rest beside me and wait for just the right moment to snap away.  If I'm lucky I manage to capture a picture that tells just the right story; a picture that one can almost hear the music escaping from when they view it; a picture that says: I was a part of this moment, I saw this legend with my own eyes, I was here.

I hadn't ever really given this much thought until I went to the Louisville Palace to see Miss Loretta Lynn--what? Kellie went to see Loretta? No way! (I know you're shocked.)  At the door they had the usual checking of coats and purses...only they seemed to be more concerned about her getting shot by a camera than they were a gun.  Now, I don't know why the Palace doesn't allow photographs inside, I haven't done my research and I apologize.  That's not really the point I am trying to make anyway.  I was kind of okay with no cameras for this particular show as I've got plenty of photos of her from previous concerts to sit and gawk at.  What I wasn't okay with was what happened once the concert actually began: every time a sneaky audience member got trigger happy with their little digital weapons they were scolded by flashlight-armed, angry, distracting little ushers who ran up and down the aisles and caused more of a scene than any camera could possibly have done.  I was so annoyed during the first few songs that it made me start thinking about the other aspects of concerts that irk me.

Seger: the Ramblin' Gamblin' Man.

The Excessive Screamer
Shows really pump me up.  When one of my favorites walks onto the stage I jump up and down and holler just as much as the next person.  Quiet and calm little Kellie becomes excited, singing, and yelling Kellie.  Cheering and shows go hand-in-hand, it's just part of it.  However, when a show is silent except for the music playing but the one idiot that the Concert Gods decided to bless you with and put in your section is screaming their heads off just to hear their own voice, it kinda makes me wanna lose religion.

I paid $65 to hear you talk?
What makes me see red even more than the person who screams minutes after everyone else has stopped is the person who comes to concerts with their pals and just feels the urge to talk the entire time. Not just kinda-sorta talk, but talk to beat the band--literally.  If you weren't going to pay attention to the concert then you might as well have sat at home and turned on their CD.  That's also pretty much how I feel about people who come to concerts just to get drunk.  Tomorrow you're not going to remember a thing about the show and you're going to be out the money you spent on your ticket.  Hostile much? Yeah, I get fired up. :)
The Red Headed Stranger

"Excuse me, excuse me."...again
The final thing that really aggravates me is constantly having to stand up so that people can get out and in.  I understand, if you gotta go, you gotta go, but some people take it to a whole other level.  At the last concert I attended a woman next to me had already guzzled a good three beers and was heading out for another, no doubt, when I stood up to let her by.  In her drunken stupor, she decided to take a little tumble on top of me.  Bright side: at least that's all she did on me.  My very favorite is whenever someone comes in late, after the lights are down, and insists I am in their seat. There is simply no way they could be mistaken in the pitch black darkness, I'm just going to have to move. No, ma'am. 

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.   -Aldous Huxley, "Music at Night" (1931)

For every negative I pointed out,
I could state five positives.
Maybe someday I will.

<3 Kellie