Took the woman to see a Blondie / New Cars show Friday night.
Blondie opened, and it was, at first, a bit like looking in an uncharitable mirror the morning after an epic debauch.
Steven Tyler knew it at age twenty-five: "...All these lines on my face getting clearer...the past is gone..."
Well, damn her. Blondie is no longer 32 years old, cocaine skinny, and able to pull off wearing Hooters shorts.
Then again, neither am I.
Once I came to terms with the idea the she has aged at the same linear time rate that I have, I relaxed and had a bit of a better time.
Her voice is still spot on, and she still has absolutely none of the "movement skills" associated with a lot of other performers. (Not a criticism, this has always been her thing.)
Her hair is now some indeterminate color, and of sensible length.
It got freaky for a tune or two when I realized she is now almost a dead ringer for Hillary Clinton. But then Blondie dropped some F-Bombs and the illusion was broken. Either that or I realized that Hillary is sexier than I previously gave her credit for.
They did all the hits, and they let the crowd rush the stage.
I tell ya, though, a crush of middle aged white folks who still can't dance, combined with a 60-ish punk rock rocker...well, let's just say that Thomas Wolfe was right. You can't go home again.
The best part was that she let people come up on stage for hugs, and gave out some more hugs at the side of the auditorium between shows. That was very very cool of her. I