and I hear in my mind, all this music...

...and it breaks my heart
and it breaks my heart

Last night, Tom, Thad, Josh & I went to see Regina Spektor at the Fillmore. I got tix about 3 months ago, so it had sort of been in the back of my mind since then, and with all the turmoil I've been feeling this month I hadn't really been thinking about the show.

And then Regina blew into our lives and unexpectedly transformed my night into something that felt like solid joy.

To me, Regina is the musician equivalent of Meryl Streep as an actress-- in an industry that tends to lean toward vanity and self-consciousness, Regina's genuine qualities shine in a way that is rare. She lives and breathes music, and her gift is rare and magical. As Tom once read in an interview, when someone asked why she makes strange vocal sounds in a song, she seemed perplexed-- "that's because it's how the song goes". She isn't afraid to leap up an octave and then down two; to use her voice to emulate a drum snare; to end a note with the snap of a whip. She immerses herself in the music and the delicious experiment of making music with her voice, her hands; with pianos and guitars and a drumstick against the seat of the chair, and even holding a microphone and singing a capella jazz without a pindrop of sound anywhere else except her voice as a white spotlight floods light from above and clouds her in glitter.

Her performance was amazing. She's one of the few artists whose show not only reminds you why you love that artist, but she takes what you love about her music and turns the volume up full-blast. She gives you new takes on the tracks you've memorized and reminds you that music is an organic medium-- the song is as unique as the night, the audience, and the whims of the musician.

The music was great enough on its own, but what was even better was being there with Tom-- even just being out on the town made everything fresh and awake and aware. Hearing an artist that we love so much together, especially one he loves so much, was really special to me. I felt so close to him and happy. When the show started, Tom wrapped his arms around me and let me rest my head on his chest, and we stayed like that until the last note of the encore. It was one of the sweetest moments I've experienced since my birthday when we curled up in his chair together and listened to Neil Young's live sessions by the light of a tea candle, silently acknowledging the fact that somehow, maybe even that night-- surrounded by mp3 files and sleeping bassets and carrot cake with "extra ingredients"-- we had just started a relationship.

It was everything that a weekend should be-- it was wonderful. She sang with her heart and I listened with mine.

And as all weekends usually end, now I'm home,writing incredibly nauseating and sappy thoughts, unable to even think straight because of the profoundly loud bass that's been booming out of my neighbor's apartment for more than 5 hours, curled on the couch feeling anxious about work and bittersweet that the magical moments on Saturday nights have to meld into Reality by Sunday afternoon.

It's the peaks that make the pits bearable. Said the blue-eyed girl..



*Silly Eye Color Generalizations*

There are those boys with earthly eyes
Their eyes are like the ground
You walk and walk
Kicking up dirt
But they don't make a sound

And when they kiss you, they sometimes leave 'em open
Just to make sure you don't drown
Yeah, the sweetest eyes
The truest eyes are
Probably dark brown

There are those boys with golden hazel eyes
The color of weak tea
They spend their nights howlin' at the moon
To let go of the sea

The scope of their depth is terrifying, thrilling
You think you're finally free
When they capture you
'Cause golden eyes are as sticky as
Honey from a bee
I'm drownin'

But those with blue
I shouldn't trust
'Cause I myself have blue
You fall for them so easy
You think you see right through

You take a leap, thinking blue water is deep
When suddenly it's just grey rain
Then puddles at your feet
They freeze to dirty ice
But somehow they'll melt back to clean blue water once again
Confusing.

Blue eyes, they change like the weather
Blue sea, blue sky, blue pain
I wouldn't trust my own blue-eyed reflection
As far as I can throw that mirror
Bum bum bum

But these are just silly eye color generalizations
You shouldn't believe a word I've said
'Cause when you're lying in your bed
Darkness 'round your head
Your eyes might as well be polka-dotted or plaid
Polka-dotted
Or
Plaid