So I’ve never really thought of myself as an artistic or creative person. I think once you strap on the abacus and commit to the bow tie and pocket protector of an accountant, hip and artsy are not often terms bandied about in reference to you. While I can set up a spreadsheet like a madwoman and play the 10-key like a concert piano til smoke flies off my fingers, the tradeoff seems to be a slight/complete decline in my creative juices. But wait! I had an epiphany this weekend. Just because your (my) drawings look like they were done by a roofied Cookie Monster and your (my) dancing abilities mimic those of a cobra being attacked by a honey badger doesn’t disqualify you from recognizing and appreciating artistic ability in others. I think reading connects the non-creative, such as myself, to that other, far cooler, world in that it opens your mind and imagination to more than you would be otherwise, much like a reasonably priced box of White Zinfandel can.
There are so many forms that art can take, from world renowned paintings or architecture to something as simple as a single line of poetry or a Polaroid snapshot, but one that I and the rest of the Book Babes really appreciate is music. If you’re up to date on our posts (and why wouldn’t you be, really?), you’ll note that for us, music and books are inextricably linked in some symbiotic way, so in a way, to love one is to love the other.
This weekend, our shared love of music landed three of us at the Columbia City Theater in Seattle amidst a motley crew of fellow indie rock enthusiasts to watch the Cold War Kids perform to a sold out crowd.
Andrea and I snatched up tickets for the show
as soon as they were available and didn’t realize Sara had independently gotten
her own tickets. Looks like these book babes
are on the same happening wavelength. Fueled
by free Embassy Suites cocktails and next door pizza, we were able to wrangle
first in line spots before the doors opened, and then, through the hubby’s
generosity with the PBR, weasel Sara and her crew up to first in line with us. We ended up front row, chest smack up to the
stage. Whoo! The next couple hours sped by in a blur of
fist pumping, off-key sing-alonging, and gyrations that may or may not have
passed for dancing. After the show, we
got to mingle with Chopper, a national treasure of the roadie world.
We chatted him up and basically distracted
him from his duties until security told us to scram. So we scrammed to about 10 feet away and then
noticed Nathan, the lead singer, nonchalantly mingling with the masses. He agreed to take a pic with us girls, and
even though he looks really angry in this pic, he was actually super down to
earth and friendly. This is the second
time I’ve gotten to see Cold War Kids perform, and let me tell you, they’re not
to be missed. Not only are they insanely
good, but they always have rad openers, too.
Last time, we got exposed to A Lull, which at one point, had about 17
guys drumming at the same time. Ok,
maybe 5, but what do you think I am?
Some kind of accountant? They
were pretty stellar. This time around,
Superhumanoids opened for them and I loved them, too. Fantastic job of picking openers, CWK. I always hate going to a show and the opener
has nothing to do with the musical styling of the headlining band and you’re
thinking, “what is Eminem doing at this Dixie Chicks concert?”, but the Kids
(as I so hiply call them) always come through in both the performance and the
opening act department.
So back to my thesis.
Art begets art and appreciating the talents of another and the beauty
others create inspires them to continue creating. So keep on writing, keep on rocking, keep on
sculpting, painting, drawing, and composing.
And I’ll keep on cheering. Symbiosis
|Me, Andrea and Sara. Whoo! That's right. Whoo!|
|Sali and (Karate) Chopper|
|Brie, Sara, Me, Nathan, Andrea, Sali and Darcy...hobnobbing|