You nearly ruined the concert for me, my wife, and, I assume, countless other people. I don't care that you've been to Alasdair's music camp. I don't care that you have all his CDs. I don't care that you had your picture taken with him. I only care that at the beginning of every tune and often in the middle, you felt free to talk. Again and again and again. You selfish, oblivious bastard.
I was reminded of the Leonard Cohen concert at Paolo Solari we attended 15 years ago. Through the whole concert, the woman behind me sang along with every song. Lady, I know these tunes -- I was there to hear L. Cohen, not you.
I was reminded of seeing Stomp at Popejoy Concert for my birthday. A child immediately behind me kicked my seat the entire performance.
I was reminded of every movie I've attended in the last 10 years where there is always someone who thinks he is in his own living room, free to talk, talk, talk.
Shut up, damn it!
As for the concert: In spite of the jerk behind me, the concert was wonderful. South Broadway is a gem. Both performers were extraordinary. Natalie made me think of the Red Violin, the Witches of Eastwick and my first girlfriend. Natalie was as engaging a performer as Yo-Yo Ma. Alasdair made me think of my old friend & fiddler, Mick. Both reminded me of all the great musicians I know, including my old friend & fiddler, Jas. -- the paragon of animals -- seated just a few rows farther back.
In the end, I was reminded of the Carlos Nuñez concert we saw in that same venue. (This wasn't quite that good, but that was in my life-list.) And Odetta, there as well. The music lingers as the assholes fade away. peace, mjh