 What do Prince, Leonard Nimoy and long-overdue library fees have in common?
Well, nothing to most people. To me, though, they all represent threads in the fabric of my adolescence. Let me explain. I had the privilege of seeing His Purple Highness at the Louisville Palace Saturday. As you have no doubt seen, heard and read all over social media, he put on one HELL of a show. I haven’t been that energized or excited by a concert since, well… ever. I actually had butterflies in my stomach and tears in my eyes the entire time the funkiest man in music was on stage. His band was phenomenal, and his voice sounds exactly the same (if not better) than it did 30 years ago. Dude can GET DOWN.
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 The soundtrack of my life is very eclectic, and it’s constantly evolving. If you saw the playlists on my iTunes, you would probably question whether I was a teenage break dancer or a senior citizen. Srsly.
These days, I find myself listening to a lot of techno and dance music, but that’s mostly by happenstance. See, I participate in a wide variety of fitness classes (boot camp, strength and interval training, cycling), and nearly all of them are set to the songs of Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Pit Bull, and a bunch of other odd-named Top 40 performers I had never heard of until I started suffering through burpees, deadlifts and squats along with the driving beats of their music. When I am not trying to keep up with my insanely fit instructors or stay on pace during a short run through in my neighborhood, I don’t seek out that kind of music. I mean, it’s great to keep me motivated during a workout, but I have no desire to hear “Timber” pulsing on my iPod when I’m trying to edit a book on estate planning law. Anyway, the above diatribe was intended to illustrate that I am open to ANY genre of music, under the right circumstances.  Saturday night, I heard the most amazing version of “Sympathy for the Devil” ever, but not because it was an award-winning piece of artistic gold. I mean, it sounded pretty damn good and all, but it wasn’t the song itself that killed me so much as who was playing it and why.
Watching a certain group of guys rockin’ out on stage together for the first time in 20-plus years transported me to the back entrances of the Red Barn and Tewligans circa 1989. I vividly remember hauling guitar cases and random pieces of drum kit as the invested groupie in a few up-and-coming bands in the Louisville music scene during the late ’80s and early ’90s. Those were some of very best of times of my young adult life, without a doubt. It would be accurate to say that the pangs of nostalgia on Saturday night were palpable.  Hello, my name is Amy, and I’m a recovering band nerd.
See, I was invited to attend two recent UofL home football games at the very impressive Papa John’s Cardinal Stadium. I am not a big sports fan on the best of days, but I have always loved attending sporting events. I enjoy the whole package — the camaraderie, the energy, the crappy concession food and the music. Ah yes, the music. The school band music. Cue the clarinets, please. |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
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