Health is all I’m asking for / Love is all I need

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The Peter Murphy show was awe­some! I think it is now on my top three list now, as far as con­certs go (not count­ing per­for­mances like Penn and Teller or Blue Man Group). Number one is the recent NIN show that Noel got me the ticket hook-up (third row, beside the pit, close enough to hit Trent with a Nerf gun–had I had one and felt the incli­na­tion). Number two was my first They Might Be Giants show, way back when. It was in the cozy lit­tle Wiltern the­ater, about 10th row. That was the first time I real­ized the audi­ence could par­tic­i­pate in the show. They “played” sec­tions of the audi­ence like an instru­ment. They brought the fire mar­shal on stage and asked him if we could form a conga line con­sist­ing of the entire audi­ence. They made the final line of Istanbul (Not Constantinople) last about 10 min­utes in an enor­mous psy­chadelic freak­out.

And then there is the Peter Murphy show. The Bauhaus show a few years ago was good, but really packed. They played well and they had some pretty good effects going, but the show was about an hour late. Also, I was a lit­tle guy (still am, even) and squished at the front of the pit. Call me crazy, but I am rather fond of breath­ing. The Peter Murphy show, on the other hand, was at the tiny-tiny-tiny House of Blues in Downtown Disney. Lisa’s sis­ter, Gina, hap­pens to work there. Put two and two together and you get magic, happy lodge passes that let you relax in the bal­cony, sip­ping on [what appeared to be free] drinks brought by your friend’s sis­ter. Oh–did I men­tion the after-party pass?

So the band rocked! The gui­tar player played very Far East riffs using a banjo. The bassist some­times played on this weird elec­tric guitar-stock thing that looked vaguely like a sitar. Peter ran around on stage doing typ­i­cal Peter Murphy things. His hair stuck out in all sorts of crazy directions–from the front, he looked like the cover of Holy Smoke; from the back, he had this big, shiny bald spot. He had a trench­coat, he had big sus­penders, he had this wacky, tall, fuzzy Russian hat at one point. They all played great and did not miss a note. I was a lit­tle sad that they missed a few of my favorite songs. I was also a lit­tle sad that the con­cluded (in the third encore) with a Rolling Stones(?) song. All in all, though, it was a great night.

Oh, and the after-party? Yeah, we sat around in the bar with other Peter Murphy groupies. At one point, I am told, two skanky girls went back­stage to “talk” to Peter. I saw them escorted out shortly there­after by a secu­rity guard in a yel­low jacket. Not long after that, we are told that he went directly to his tour bus and conked out. It does sound rea­son­able, after all. He has to be about 50, and he lives in Istanbul. Between the age and the jet-lag, I do not blame him.

Thank you, Lisa! Thank you, Gina! Thank you, Gina’s boyfriend, the bar­tender!

In a pos­si­bly unre­lated note, my Lego per­sona looks like a girl:

Posted in: Dear Diary Music

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