Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing….
I was dreaming when I wrote this, forgive me if it goes astray
I gasped out loud, in the middle of a meeting at work when I saw the breaking news that Prince had been taken from us. Didn’t he transcend such things?
I ain’t got no money, but baby I’m rich in personality
I wonder if people of such immense creative talent have any idea how they touch the rest of us? Not all have the success of Prince, but really is that what matters?
Purple Rain possibly changed my whole life, something I had never really realized or thought about until today. Dig if you will, the picture… two people so different: a black guy from Minneapolis (I had to look up how to spell that. I know Prince’s full name, but I had to look up Minneapolis) and the whitest white girls from Boston. Yet he spoke to me. There were bad things happening and ways to escape them. Believing in yourself, what you want to do… be authentic to yourself, that is what matters. Now I know that is what other people relate to (not all others, but the ones that matter to you). I haven’t watched it in years, but it’s queued up. I remember that year. How big that album was, how influential the movie…. the era of Micheal Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Cindi Lauper and… the purple one.
I can’t disguise the pounding of my heart…
Wooo… did Darling Nikki blew this school girls skirt up….
If you don’t like the world you’re living in, Take a look around you, At least you got friends
I flash back to being at my friend’s basement. Oh, could we dance to Rasberry Beret, Little Red Corvette and the entire Purple Rain soundtrack. We were learning our way in the world. Learning who we were. This was all before she married a Mormon shortly after college, move to Utah and had a bunch of kids. Today I wonder what they would think if they could have seen her then. I hadn’t spoken to her in years, but I found her on Facebook tonight and if something that comes out of that, well Prince will have helped me one more time.
Listening to Purple Rain again today is like visiting an old friend. One you haven’t seen in years, but you fall back into after years, like you’d never been apart.
You make me so confused
The beautiful ones
You always seem to lose
We lost a beautiful one today… and I just say thank you for the time we had and the gifts you shared.
RIP Prince Rogers Nelson (if that’s what you want…)
And if the elevator tries to bring you down, punch a higher floor…
RIP Prince Rogers Nelson (if that’s what you want…)
Sometimes I wonder what Bruce Springsteen thinks about when singing Independence Day, a 35 year old song written by a 30 year old about an 18-19 year old leaving home.
RIP Glenn Fry
We may lose and we may win, but we will never be here again…
Thank you so much…
The more things change, the more they stay the same…
Today walking through Harvard Square, I looked at all the young faces. Students, perhaps graduating soon, so full of promise. They looked twelve. I did some math in my head: a graduating senior is most likely twenty one, which means they were born in 1994. 1994. The year Kurt Cobain died. Wow.
As I was losing myself in these thoughts, I heard the music from a loud party. Ah yes, the college party on one of the first pleasant afternoons of spring (that it isn’t until May 1, well… ). Then the blaring music changed to The Rolling Stones, music that was already older than I was when I was in college. So some things don’t change, some things perhaps remain as timeless as Mick Jagger, even if as unlikely that Keith Richards still walks among us. But somehow that made me feel ok.
Back when we started..
we didn’t know how hard it was. Living on nothing but what the wind would bring to us.
– Got a little Dixie Chicks thing going this evening.
And I can hear your laughter, it stays with me after, all this time…
When the lights dim, the cropreviously toasting and loudly speaking/laughing with their peers, falls silent for a brief second as they all turn toward the stage. The brief pause filled with anticipation, followed by arms raised cheering. Then the Peanuts theme plays. Everyone throw out your sad Christmas tree because it’s that time of year again. Throwdown!
Each year around this time, my friends and I take a magical journey back to our youth, reverting to our 22 year old selves by seeing a band we used to see way back in the day, when the following was true in our lives:
Someone’s always up to something
one thing’s always understood
if nothing happened in a minute
wait another, something would
Sure it wasn’t Queensbury, but it was Hemenway.
So we pilgrimage (ok, it’s a short pilgrimage) to see the Mighty Mighty Bosstones this time each year for the Hometown Throwdown.
Allowing escape to the younger version of ourselves. I still have the blazer I wore to the Middle East shows. I remember how much I loved the Doc Martins I wore, back when we could go 5 nights in a row. The only thinking shocking about 5 nights in a row was that we could afford it. Five nights which would result in actual weight loss, despite beer consumption. So sad to say, but these days 3 nights feels a bit crazy and completely wears us out. The youngsters stare us like they can’t believe we can rock it out, but oh, us ageless hipsters, we can.
Every year I’m astounded at the young people who love the band as much as we do. What turned them on to this band that tours and puts out albums infrequently? Last night Dickie asked for a show of hands for who was old school. The actual 22 year olds around us were all waving their arms in the air. I turned and said: you are so NOT old school. You don’t even know what old school is. These guys were playing when you were in a crib. We were watching them play when you were in a crib. I don’t have pictures or video from my first Throwdown because there were NO cell phones then. Ponder that, wee one. (note: if you think debating with a 22 year old whether they are old school or not is a good idea, it may be time to question some of your life choices or have another drink. Note 2: when they brought Nate Albert out, pee wees did not seem to know who he was. I think my point is made).
Yes, I see it. I’m not even my parents in the above paragraph, I’m my grandparents (why would anyone want a vcr? But I digress).
Dickie is rockin some fine red docs.
Despite my apparently early onset old age crankiness, the Throwdown is one of the highlights of our year. We dance, we sing, we watch (mostly) the same boys we’ve watched for all these years enjoying themselves doing the same. The matching suites, the lights, the faux snow, the confetti, Santa and Blanta… it’s all part of one fantastic, fun experience that you can’t get anywhere. How many things do you love when young that grow with you so you can continue to love them? It’s a gift to have all this (and the Boston sports teams.. come on!).
In the end it’s about old friends, the kind of friends who can pick right up after not seeing each other for a while without missing a beat, still having fun together. So as long as they do it, we’ll be there. Thanks boys and happy holidays.
Last hurrah? Na uhhh, I’d do it again.
Significantly better pictures here: