It's gonna be another solo show
...but only if I actually leave the house. Plus: a recommended track from tonight's guest at the Raccoon Motel
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This week: a confession about a repeated conundrum I’m causing for myself. And: stay til the end for a recommended song Rayland Baxter, who’s playing tonight downtown.
Solo show (if I can get myself to go)
This weekend I have a ticket to a show I was so excited to see, back when I bought the ticket. The Head and the Heart, a Seattle band I’ve loved for many years now, are playing at a “new” venue downtown Davenport. I’ve had the tickets for a couple months. But in the time that has elapsed, I’ve somehow gone from “Sweet! They’re coming here? I gotta get a ticket!” to … ahh crap now I have to leave the house.
I don’t know when exactly this pattern started, but the creeping hermitude got worse during the pandemic; it’s like I got too good at learning how to not go anywhere. And it’s not just happening when I’ve made solid plans to attend rock shows.
It’s for parties I’ve RSVPD to.
It’s for events around town I clicked “Interested” on on Facebook.
Basically anything taking place when I’m finally home from work, and when having to stop doing whatever I’m doing, take a shower and get dressed feels like an undertaking.
But there’s something other than laziness or coziness that’s making me kinda regret having bought a ticket: it’s just now dawning on me that I’m going alone.
I’m used to doing all kinds of things on my own, like going to the movies. Before the pandemic, I used to dine out alone a lot. So maybe my brain tricks me into thinking I’ll be just fine at a rock show, too! But I’ve tried it, and I know that without a doubt, live music is meant to be a shared experience.
And not only does going to shows alone suck, but when I checked in with a friend to see if she wanted to join me for The Head and the Heart, she said she’d already bought tickets — for her and her new boyfriend. They’ve got seats a few rows away.
Am I happy for my friend? Definitely.
Does she deserve to have found love? Absolutely.
Am I childishly jealous, and on top of that, insecure about why I can’t seem to have the same results (or any luck at all) she has found on a dating app?
Will I be sneaking glances at them and wallowing in self-pity about having to sing along to favorite songs all by my lonesome?
You betcha.
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And you know what the dumbest part of the whole thing is?
I have lots of friends. As much as that sounds like something T (the former president) would say, I’m actually stating a (non-alternative) fact. I had to learn how to grow my social circle after I experienced the life-rewrite brought on by divorce. I joined a club that introduced me to a bunch of really cool, fun, and supportive women.
So how do I keep finding myself in this situation?
I suppose I don’t ask anyone to come with me because even if they’re game to go, what if they don’t really like the band when they get there? It’s like I worry that I’m responsible for their bad time.
I have a kind friend who, whenever she hears me bellyache about my desire to see shows but not go alone, says, “I’ll go with you next time!” But the type of music she loves is dance music. If she went with me, I know she’d try to make the best of the night, but how could I enjoy myself knowing she’d be standing still (or sitting, because of this) the whole time while a singer/songwriter strummed their sensitive heart out?
So, it looks like I’ll go to the Head and the Heart alone. Or maybe tomorrow I’ll try to sell the ticket on Facebook so I can stay home watching Hulu and eating popcorn for dinner. (It wouldn’t be the first time.)
And then next month I’ll probably do the same cycle all over again.
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On a related note: there is an awesome venue just a short hop and a skip from my apartment that brings outstanding talent to town seemingly every night of the week. You might not believe me, but the Raccoon Motel is like our own little slice of Nashville.
And since part of my other pattern is wanting to go see shows but also getting less willing to go do so on a “school night,” (or to be smooshed in a small room where the dude next to me just exhaled lungful of vaped pot), I’ve decided that whenever I feel bad for being such an old fogey (because I’m missing someone great), I’ll at least make a little vow to look up some songs by that act I’m skipping, then share with you why I like the band and maybe you might too (if you don’t already). Here is what this feature will be called:
Rock Show I Probably Won’t Roll To (But Would be Cooler if I Did) :
And this week’s entry is Rayland Baxter, a Tennessee singer/songwriter who is performing tonight at the ‘Motel. Here’s a snippet about him from a review in No Depression:
“The predictably unpredictable Baxter holed up alone in an old rubber band factory in Kentucky for a year to work on Butterfly, studying the sights and sounds around him, allowing them to sink in and inform his songwriting output.”
SEE I TOLD YOU, my dance-loving friend would not have a good time.
But anyway. I’m not going to his show, so it doesn’t matter whether or not a friend would like it. But I’m going to feature a Baxter song today as the recommended track, (even if I feel there is something very Borat about his outfit choice).
His song “Yellow Eyes” has a nice chorus. Check it out and tell me I’m wrong!
P.S. Did you know that the New York Times mentioned results of a potential book-banning-related initiative in Pella, Iowa, the day after the election? I’m glad to see the word “rejected,” but it’s scary to see the word “narrowly” before it. If you want to know my thoughts on the matter, read my sign.
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Hey, I worry about any companion I take to the movies as well. It kind of ruins the movie experience for me when I'm constantly looking out of the corner of my eye to see how she's reacting to various scenes. If she doesn't react at all, I feel so bad. I'm better at going by myself.
And I'm constantly talking myself out of concerts because they are usually in Des Moines and I just don't want to drive down there anymore. I've become a small-town girl, too afraid of the big city.
I hope you do go to that concert. I'm sure you'll have a great time.
Yoga pants, fuzzy slippers and deer during rut. Three reasons why I don't leave the house in the winter! Wish I could but I am not that social.
But you .... go to the concert. Have a great time and know how cool you will look to others ... confident, assured, in control. You can rock this.