Thursday, February 10, 2011

Sting in my tail

Free tickets to see Sting in concert with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra?

I wasn't a huge fan of Sting but I am a massive fan of free tickets and of hanging out with the sort of people who do go to Sting concerts. Upon sitting down and listening, I realised that I was a fan of Sting. I was just so young when first exposed to his music that it didn't occur to me that those songs came from a human being. When I began to listen to the music of Sting it was just the soundtrack to my life whenever my father cooked.

It really is nice to watch professionals doing what they do best and Sting is no slouch when it comes to pop music. A full Symphonic Orchestra doesn't hurt either, and if you thought you knew what a conductor looked like you had better get your arse done to Sydney and check out Steven Mercurio shakin' his thang.

It had me thinking about how tightly a conductor needs to get his choreography and then, oddly enough, whether Britney Spears could be a conductor. That'd reignite the gen-Y kids' desire for orchestral music.

You're one sixteenth of a beat out, Harrison.

And so it was that we came to the end of the evening and Sting pulled out an old favourite to kick it home with 'Every Little Thing She Does is Magic'. Totally toe-tapping. I loved it. He finished it off with aplomb and the crowd went wild with applause.

And then people started standing up. And then more people. And suddenly I was sitting amongst a standing ovation and I've got to admit, I felt really, really awkward.

Now so far as I'm concerned, Standing ovations are for people who have done something truly amazing. People who have stepped up and exceeded my expectations by leaps and bounds. Someone inspiring. Barack Obama becoming the first black president of the US? Sure. Bill Paxton as the president in Independence Day? Yes. Definitely.

All Sting did was perform a really good pop show. He's supposed to do that. He's Sting!

Then I found myself accidentally making some sort of political statement. Now I was sitting down while everyone else was standing. I looked like I hated the concert AND like I was throwing the free tickets back in the faces of my friends. I didn't hate the concert. I really enjoyed it. Was I going to have to justify myself?

It got worse.

There was an encore. And I was the only one sitting for it. I couldn't see but if I stood up now I'd look like I couldn't stand by my principles. I'd look weak. And I'll be damned if I'm going to be bullied into standing up. No! I came up with a plan.

I couldn't see but I pretended that it didn't matter. I closed my eyes because I'm one of those guys who doesn't need to see the performers to appreciate the music. I... was an aficionado. Possibly I was so into the music that I hadn't even realised that everyone else was standing up.

I wasn't fooling anyone. Not even myself.

The very worst part was, that I have a boney, skinny arse, and the seating there was pretty basic. After two and a half hours all I wanted to do was stand up and disengage my pelvic bones from the aluminium chair yet here I was stuck between a hard place and my own low grade psychosis.

I blame Sting.

He didn't cure cancer. He didn't bring two warring nations together in peace. He didn't even spontaneously win the heart of late nineties Renée Zellwegger. He just did his job. And what's more he didn't even sing "Don't stand so close to me."

But I did...


In monotone.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...