Big sigh.

It's still a beautiful weekend, I'm still bangin' out the jams from my balcony for the whole street, and once again I saw some incredible R&B in October.

My loser friends tried their mightiest to drag me to see Kid Rock, but I held fast and planted at the Miller Lite stage because no one was going to interfere in my date with Eddie Levert last night. That's right, kids, the O'Jays graced our fair city. It was a pretty good performance although not world-view changing. I also caught the tail end of the Whispers, too, which was a bonus. Eddie's face looked as if it might burst a couple of times; he sang his ass off.

I found myself getting super nostalgic again while parked among huge crowds of really good-smelling people. I'll never forget seeing the Gap Band at that very same spot 10 years or so ago, when the crowds were much smaller. I was squished up in this crowd and it WAS one of those world-view changing experiences. I swear, I've only participated in this kind of phenomena once or twice, but it was literally as if the crowd moved as one being. Sounds totally trite, but I swear to you when you feel the kind of sway that's so intuitive and uninterrupted, and about a thousand or so people strong, you will kinda find some new religion. Charlie was getting everyone going on some crowd participation singing; some row-your-boat shit to that tune "Yearnin for Your Love." I swear it was so beautiful (and actually in tune) that I tear up right this damned minute recalling it.

But I found a comfy spot and some folks to hang with, and was soon asked by some fella if I knew who the Beatles were. I struggled to try and decipher what this guy's logic was in asking me such an inane question. He was understandably all eyebrows when I referenced some older music, but really. Did he think I was that young? I decided to be flattered. Then there was a woman who was very interested in everything I had to say, in the spirit of fascination with the novel white girl among all these black people. I guess it doesn't happen so much in those proportions so often. There's lots of heterogeneity around, but I do have to admit I was a small whitehead on the big black ass this particular evening. She was hungry and I told her I was a fan of the turkey legs. She got pretty excited, but I couldn't tell her exactly where they were. But last year they were really on time, and just extend your enthusiasm so perfectly when you thrust one in the air after a great tune.

(Another nifty anecdote from the evening-- our cab driver let us in on a little wink, wink, nudge, nudge about Kid Rock. Evidently he supposed to be Hank Williams, Jr.'s illegitimate son. Might be common knowledge, but I sure had never heard that. Supposedly this guy's a buddy of Hank's brother or something. Hm.)