Thursday, April 17, 2014
You have this great friend.
She’s quirky and artsy and complicated and different from you. You love her.
She has a boyfriend who you love too because he’s not like her but he really gets her and makes her happy.
Then they get married and move away. You lose touch for many, many years.
You think about them occasionally, especially when you hear certain songs from the ‘80s.
The social network happens and you reconnect with them.
They were in bigger, better city, but now they live close by.
They still like you. You haven't done anything over the years to piss them off.
Your laughter together still sounds the same.
You remember she was a great cook and they invite you over for an amazing meal. And in the background they are playing all the music you love. Music that happened AFTER they went away. You realize you both love The Pixies. The National. Nick Cave.
You discover he has become a cocktail aficionado with a collection of bitters. Over exotic drinks with names like The Sanchez and Hemingway on the Beach, you catch up.
You make plans to see some shows.
And your musical heart soars. You now have OLD friends who like the same NEW music as you.
He follows through. He gets tickets to The Pixies. He gets tickets to The National.
The show date arrives.
Your divergent paths have led you to this very same moment together. In a glorious old theater, in plush balcony seats, drink in hand, next to two of your oldest and dearest friends, the lights go down, the crowd starts to whistle and cheer, the band takes the stage. And though you can't hear it over the beautiful rock n' roll din, you can feel your heart beat in tandem with theirs.