Dirty Dancing Girl showed up at the wrong concert last week. Apparently she thought her ticket said "Prince" instead of "Dawes" and believe me nothing says bump and grind more than Taylor Goldsmith's wonderfully sentimental lyrics:
"like the memory from your mother's house from before you got too old
like the feeling from a photograph before its meaning all got told."
Yow! Get down!
I felt a little sorry for Dirty Dancing Girl's boyfriend as he helplessly looked around while she made her moves. If he had asked for my Whack ol' Lady relationship advice I would have told him to find someone who shared his interest in Dawes. She really should have hooked up with the Beanie Brothers up front because their girlfriends were equally confounded by their thrashing and fist pumping more likely to be seen at Husker Du. The Beanie Brothers were having a good time and I'm not sure I would have taken such a liking to them if they hadn't been wearing matching hats.
As with many of the concerts I go to with my daughter, we occasionally get into conversations with other folks there and get a similar response each time. The moms think it is so sweet that the two of us go out together and often wistfully wish their own children would allow them to do the same. I try my best to keep a low profile and limit the embarrassing movements and clothing choices. Occasionally when I tell others I write a blog about music I either get a blank stare and a kind of "what the f*ck are you talking about look" or the person's eyes light up and there is more of a "where have you been--you are my new best friend" look. Some of the younger folks kind of chuckle and secretly wonder how I even know about blogging.
Someday my daughter won't want to go out with me anymore or our musical tastes will diverge but it's a good ride right now and I'll go along until we hit a bump.
