If I admitted that I shed tears while Patti Smith sang “Because the Night” a capella, would you make fun of me?
Despite the vastness of Benaroya Hall and the heaviness of her poetry and the sadness buried with Robert Mapplethorpe, a smile crept on my face each time she mumbled an apology for fumbling a line as she nervously fussed with her hair. This was intimacy intensified, so strong that it pulled me down from my nosebleed balcony seat into her lap. I felt like it was okay to reach out and touch her wild mane. Her voice scratched with the richest texture which snapped my heartstrings.
It was a beautiful night.
2 Comments
You have officially gone “off the reservation” with hipness.. I have no earthly clue what you’re talking about ;o)
A month ago, I didn’t know who Patti Smith was. Can you believe? And now I do, and now I know what you are talking about. And if you thought you were slightly removed from the epicenter of true feeling, up there in a balcony nosebleed seat, then I am certainly removed being 2500 miles away from that locus/location AND referencing the past I didn’t experience, AND navigating through Arial text just to get at it. In short, I’m there with you.
I also understand what “Not Serena” means now. Only when I Googled you to find this blog did I find there was an impostor floating around out there!
Love from snowyNY.