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zdashamberFriday I went to see the REM concert at the Greek Theater in Berkeley with Jeff and Mariya and Emily. I went for the company and to glory in the coming of damn South Bay people up to my neck of the woods for once... I think maybe the only concert I could go to where I knew every bit of the music would be a Beatles concert. The Eagles or Styx wouldn't have me embarassing myself, probably... But generally, I go to concerts to hang out with people and I just fail to mention that most of the music is new to me. ;)
So beforehand, I took them to Aki's, the excellent Japanese restaurant on Northside, and once again, it did not fail to impress. It was fortunate we were well-fortified with food, because we had lawn seats and much to our surprise, we had to expend energy all night to keep from sliding down the incredibly steep dry-grass-dirt hill that makes up the lawn of the Greek Theater. I literally could have tobogganned all the way down the hill on my butt alone, taking everyone below me with me. Lying on your back meant sliding down; you had to sit so that you could apply force to the hill with your weight focused on your butt or your feet. I found a good position: sitting cross-legged so my weight focused on digging the edges of my sneaker soles into the dirt of the hill. It was like stopping by turning on the edges of your skis.
But the concert! Mike asked me the next day how I'd liked the concert. "Michael Stipe danced like a noodle!" I said. This is true. Among the South Bay group there is a saying that arises from a day one of their friends found himself in a mall. For awhile, he stared at all the stick-skinny teenage girls wandering around, and then he declares, "All of these bitches need sandwiches!" Thus: "Sandwich Patrol." Jeff and Mariya agreed: Michael Stipe needs a visit from the Sandwich Patrol. But his noodly dancing was really great. He's a hell of a lot of fun to watch.
And the lighting kicked ass. They'd hung long bolts of heavy plastic that was silvered on the side facing us, so it was reflective while also being translucent. Or maybe it was aluminium flashing... There were often reflections of light on it, and I couldn't figure out where the lights it was reflecting were.
Anyway, the various bands of it swayed slightly in the breeze, and it was amazing... But that was just the backdrop. Behind that was a net of strings of something like Christmas lights which were nice and starfield-like, but in the foreground were the neatest bits of all: hanging sticks of light of various lengths, with bands of color, able to change in hue. The bands seemed to be variable in placement--ie, for one song, a stick could be three bands, while for the next it was four, broken in different places. Watching the lightsticks look like dripping acid with shades of lime and the reflective hanging strips of stuff washing in the background with fractured stirring-in-the-breeze green on the first song, I figured that alone was worth the price of admission.
So beforehand, I took them to Aki's, the excellent Japanese restaurant on Northside, and once again, it did not fail to impress. It was fortunate we were well-fortified with food, because we had lawn seats and much to our surprise, we had to expend energy all night to keep from sliding down the incredibly steep dry-grass-dirt hill that makes up the lawn of the Greek Theater. I literally could have tobogganned all the way down the hill on my butt alone, taking everyone below me with me. Lying on your back meant sliding down; you had to sit so that you could apply force to the hill with your weight focused on your butt or your feet. I found a good position: sitting cross-legged so my weight focused on digging the edges of my sneaker soles into the dirt of the hill. It was like stopping by turning on the edges of your skis.
But the concert! Mike asked me the next day how I'd liked the concert. "Michael Stipe danced like a noodle!" I said. This is true. Among the South Bay group there is a saying that arises from a day one of their friends found himself in a mall. For awhile, he stared at all the stick-skinny teenage girls wandering around, and then he declares, "All of these bitches need sandwiches!" Thus: "Sandwich Patrol." Jeff and Mariya agreed: Michael Stipe needs a visit from the Sandwich Patrol. But his noodly dancing was really great. He's a hell of a lot of fun to watch.
And the lighting kicked ass. They'd hung long bolts of heavy plastic that was silvered on the side facing us, so it was reflective while also being translucent. Or maybe it was aluminium flashing... There were often reflections of light on it, and I couldn't figure out where the lights it was reflecting were.
Anyway, the various bands of it swayed slightly in the breeze, and it was amazing... But that was just the backdrop. Behind that was a net of strings of something like Christmas lights which were nice and starfield-like, but in the foreground were the neatest bits of all: hanging sticks of light of various lengths, with bands of color, able to change in hue. The bands seemed to be variable in placement--ie, for one song, a stick could be three bands, while for the next it was four, broken in different places. Watching the lightsticks look like dripping acid with shades of lime and the reflective hanging strips of stuff washing in the background with fractured stirring-in-the-breeze green on the first song, I figured that alone was worth the price of admission.