Back in 2008, I felt like I was one of the last people to find out about Girl Talk. I'd have to say I learned about this music that has been described as a "sound collage," basically a mash-up of all different sorts of music, in two equally responsible, but parallel paths. A friend of mine introduced me to it one weekend in Chicago. I think we were sleepy, but it was time to go back out on the town (a good motivator is a necessity when you've been at a football game all day in the frigid cold). When it came on, I instantly loved it because it was like a delicious vidalia onion of music - layer upon layer of songs -- a constantly evolving sound that made music from choas, filled with familiar hooks and beats from songs that spanned the history of a TimeLife music compliation. It was something I'd never heard before (think Journey blended with Jay-Z, for example).
Now don't get me wrong, back in high school and college, I might have been "sort of" on the fringe of the music scene with an awareness of punk, alternative and college bands (just really enough to impress guys, but not enough to make any intellectual claim as might occur if I were in living in High Fidelity). At this point in my life, I am definitely not in the know when it comes to these sort of things (unless I accidentally happen upon it, which is really how I learn about anything that seems ahead of the curve, pure happenstance. A benefit of being a Sagittarius, I guess). My pop culture knowledge of music is even more hindered because I primarily listen to only one type of music (of course that's country).
But, back to my origins of discovering Girl Talk -- At the same time, I heard a review of his songs on NPR, most likely while commuting to or from work one day. With these two paths of knowledge now converging, I knew where and how to get my hands on his music, and I knew this was right up my alley. When I got home, I bought the "pay what you want" download, which I thought was pretty cool (first and only experience with that). In an instant, I was gettin' down all over the house - my cat probably thought I was nuts -- well, probably not, I did (and still do) that a lot. Anyway, I had an hours plus worth of Girl Talk mash-ups to motivate me during work-outs. At that point, I was mainly running and this music is perfect for running.
But in addition to being great for work outs, I loved the mash-ups for another reason. The music I experienced when I was growing up was probably 75 percent driven by what my parents were listening to at the moment. And they had diverse tastes, which is no wonder why I have diverse tastes - you listen to country, but love Gaga?? I can remember listening to Preppy Deluxe, The Drifters, Sam Cooke, Buddy Holly and the Crickets, Dirty Dancing (and More Dirty Dancing), John Denver, Stand By Me, The Coasters, Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson - the list goes on and on. Once the cassette tape took off, my parents amassed an enormous collection of music - from what they heard growing up to what was popular at the time. This was certainly thanks to my ignorantly signing them up for a mail order music club (you remember, get seven records for one penny - and you actually taped the penny to the mail in subcription). I sent that in (why I didn't raise an eyebrow from my parents when I asked for an envelope and stamp and probably some personal information, I don't know) and as suddently as the seven "free" records arrived in the mail one day, we were locked in to the club membership for at least one year. I'm sure some laws have changed that makes this completely illegal now, but back then - I think my parents just decided that they loved music enough to keep the club membership and make the most of my mistake.
Because of this extensive collection that probably played like an encyclopedia of American music from the 1950s-1990s, nine times out of 10, I can bust out the lyrics to almost any Motown song, beach music song, and so forth - I love to play that game with the radio because I always win, beating out competition in a matter of seconds. I was born into a family that loved music, and a family with many musical abilities. My maternal grandfather was a band teacher in South Carolina, eventually earning the "Order of the Palmetto" for his contributions to youth and music in the state prior to his passing. My mother was an accomplished clarinettist and her brothers were all talented musicians, two of which are still active in bands today. My paternal grandfather owned a radio station - fostering my father's love of music as well (as well as fueling his record collection). And, me, I used to be able to sing (although, without practice you lose it), but even with a faltering voice, I still love to sing along, especially to that old Motown sound, all warm and fuzzy accompanied by the rich thump of a real bass. The sound that reminds me of countless road trips to Myrtle Beach and the scenes I would imagine of what it was like back in the 50s and 60s.
So, a few months ago, I learned that Gregg Gillis (AKA Girl Talk) was coming to Charlotte. Even though it was on a week night, I just had to go and see this guy in action. I bought my tickets and then made the mistake of reading a blog post about how to survive a Girl Talk concert (from a recent show in New Orleans). It sounded like maddness - prepare to sweat (yes, it sounded like even more sweat than my hot yoga class), then the crowds, people pushing against each other, there was a mention of people being on extasy that pretty much freaked me out. I wasn't exactly sure if this was for me...it just sounded as chaotic as the mash-ups themselves.
After stressing about the fact that I might have to stay up late the night of the show for almost a week, coming up with a million excuses of why I might have to bail out, the night finally arrived. I thought the show might last until the wee hours of the morning, but after all that stress - it ended at 11 p.m.! I honestly couldn't believe it. In the future, I must remind myself that as with most things, it usually ends up working out, so it's not worth stressing over. What happened to shows that last until 2 a.m.? Not that I was asking for that, but an early end to the show was not what I was expecting.
But back to the show - it was a blast - definitely chaotic and the closest thing to a "rave" that I will ever attend - stuff just kept flying off the stage and into the flailing arms of the crowd below - balloons, confetti, beach balls, toilet paper - it was like being at a Blue Man Group show, except the people on stage dancing around the DJ booth weren't blue, they were just dressed up in 80s work-out gear (also unexpected), but as told -- they were sweating it out, and I mean, they were sweating it out, not just to the oldies, but to some goodies in there too. It was like a snapshot of the Y from about 20 years ago -- one guy even looked like he was leading a step class or high impact aerobics to get really 80s about it. Make no bones about it - I was standing safely off to the side (yes, I am lame, but I did not want to join the crowd - I value my personal space now).
I wish it could have been on a weekend, but I did get to see the man in action (who apparently is a biomedical engineer?), rocking back and forth from his computer, letting the music take him and the crowd where it wanted to go (well, I'm guessing it was a computer, I couldn't see since I wasn't able to put my 30-something-year-old-self up in the mosh pit. Those days are long gone.) I was amazed to see all these young kids around me, and it reminded me that about 15 years ago, I was one of those kids so totally wrapped up in the music and the moment (however, I was way too straight be drinking, smoking or on drugs, which I'm sure many of these kids at the show were, sadly).
But, I had a youthful energy that I'm sure radiated off me to the 30 plus year-olds in the crowd, maybe reminding them of carefree, earlier years. Of course, most shows that I attended in high school or college did not end at 11 p.m. - that part, in addition to the venue, seemed a little commercial to me. There was also a taped "line" of where the standing area was and where the walking area was. I remember seeing shows in Charlotte at the Milestone Club, 13-13 or the Pterodactyl. Those were basically fire traps, but there weren't a lot of rules - it just seemed like it was more real, more freedom, made you feel closer to the music. And there was no tape to create a path - you had to work your way through the people to get to the restrooms.
I was definitely more of an observer, and as I watched the crowd "get up and dance," I had a realization that I probably won't be going to shows (not that I go to many now) like this for much longer. A feeling that started when my husband and I went to the Jackopierce show last year at the Visulite - it's just different now, because my life is different -- so much has happened, so much has changed, with more changes to come. Once I start my role as "mom," I'll be attending concerts with my children (yikes - my parents got some good ones, like Milli Vanilli, ugh...is that in my future...)
But needless to say, I'm glad that I went. I didn't even feel that old either, despite the nostalgia - probably helped by the fact that because we thought the show would start late, we didn't arrive until close to 10. So, an hour was probably an ideal amount for me - I could get my groove on as the DJ Gregg Gillis peeled back the layers on the onion, while in my mind, I peeled back the layers of music over the years, each song triggering memories from the past or creating new memories for the future.
No comments:
Post a Comment