Monday, March 19, 2012

My Elton John Review

I had the pleasure of writing a review on GayRVA.com for Elton John's most recent visit to Richmond. I hope you'll check it out because it's less of a concert review and more of an experience review. The truth is reviewing Elton John is pretty much like reviewing any other icon—it can't be done, short of anything out of the ordinary taking place or new material being introduced, neither of which was the case.



I had a blast at the concert and found myself brainstorming up a new blog post about concert etiquette, which will be forthcoming as soon as I sit down and research/write the thing.


In the meantime, I hope you'll check out the article. I relive my childhood a little, I dance with drunken frat boys, and I am transported by the music.


http://www.gayrva.com/arts-culture/the-rocket-mans-richmond-return/


 
And for your reference...
 

2 comments:

  1. Fabulous review, BabyBear! You are an awesome writer (yet another thing that you DIDN'T get from me!). I felt like I'd been right beside you.

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  2. Oh, Sweetpea!!! I WAS THERRRRRRRR!

    What a rockin' good time with my First Cup this morning!!! Good thing I had caffeine in hand to regulate my overstimulated heart.

    This was just TOO TOO, and in the best way there is. You covered every note, every nuance, (even every negligee, as it happens---I'll bet that one still smelt of Kools and Nana's gin) and every crackle of energy in that roaring crowd.

    WOOOHOOO what a time!

    Boy, did you hit memories, of turning on the music while the kids were getting ready for school---the scents and feel of that warm room with CR blasting and biscuits rising in the oven. I was again bombarded by eight or nine Cub Scout voices trapped in the tin can of a big ole three-seater Woody---blasting out a chirpy version of whatever was on the radio. Then another day, the slightly-later memory of a young friend of my sons---one of my Scouts grown a little older---a fragile, quiet boy, sitting on one of the stools at the counter singing Crocodile Rock in the softest voice---I thought of him just now; he's still that young teen to me, and will be, for I saw his too-soon obituary several years ago.

    WordPainter you are, and this particular canvas is bright with color and fire.

    Thank you,

    rachel

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