Last night's events cemented in my mind what I've been reluctant to admit for some time: my destiny is rock stardom. I'm not sure why I've been in denial; I guess admitting the truth and accepting your eminent fate are weighty issues that sometimes just stare you in the face like the occasional public transportation-riding goon sitting across the bus aisle.
Let me follow up with last evening's actual happenings. A dear friend and I attended the Dead Weather show at the Congress Theater. The opener was some surf rock three-piece, I think called Harlem...not bad.
Then Jack White, Alison Mosshart, Dean Fertita, and Jack Lawrence took the stage. Minds were blown. I'm hesitant to say this was my favorite show thus far in the year, as it's difficult to beat Ray Davies opening with "This is Where I Belong" while you listen with your dad, but the show was fantastic. The group plays live like they sound on record, and they do it for the crowd as well as themselves...hallmarks of a well-performed concert.
Tired from the week, sweaty, and wearing 5-inch wedges, I just wanted Alison, in all her stringy-haired glory, to keep singing. Her confidence and sex appeal are infectious, and I've contracted.
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