So it's 11:34 and I'm in danger of missing another week's blog day. This time it was not a Jewish holiday and not a conference and not a literary reading, but a Crosby Stills and Nash concert. I was skeptical when we bought ticket--the last time we saw them was 10 years ago, when my wife was pregnant with child #3(who got a great in utero contact high), and they were OLD. But terrific. And we left happy and satisfied that we'd gotten to see them, kind of like when we saw Tony Gwynn in the last year he played for the Padres and we'd shlepped out to Shea to see him just so we could say we saw him. But I digress.
So CSN (without Young, or Tony Gwynn for that matter) was back, at the Beacon Theater (very appropriate now, and Winchester Cathedral was perfect there, just saying), and they are now at least seven years past OLD. And they were fabulous. OK, so after nine months of touring (this is the last set of shows) Stills is finished and could barely croak out Love the One You're With. But the surprise MVP was David Crosby, who could have been MVP for being able to stand at this point. But he has a voice like an angel (still), and was thin(ner) and fit(ter), and the group wisely centered the playlist around his proggy stuff. So we got Guinevere and Winchester and Deja Vu and Stills could play guitar and all the happy fogies like us got to sit back and relax.
As we were leaving we both realized that the upshot was this: We spend so much time listening to top 40 these days because of our kids, it was nice to go to an old school rock concert with black t-shirts and guitars and Hammond organs and singers who allowed themselves to be ragged.
Of course, we're also kind of excited that next week brings us Ke$ha's new album. (Don't be a hater, now!)