My friend Bill mentioned the feeling of wanting certain moments to go on forever, and it got me thinking. Sometimes you just pause and realize that if you could freeze time, everything would be perfect because all the nonsense has faded away and you're so full of joy you could burst. And of course those moments can't last forever, but maybe they've filled you up enough to keep you going. For me, a lot of those moments come from concerts. My absolute favorite thing in the world is being at a Counting Crows concert. For real. At their last concert I attended (earlier this summer in Central Park), the beginning of the show was probably the most significant for me. I was in the front row on the railing, and that feeling of anticipation was already turning my stomach into knots. When the crew started taping setlists onto the stage, Terry, who was standing next to me, was able to catch a glimpse of the first song. He asked me if I wanted to know what it was and I immediately said yes but then changed my response to no. I wanted to be surprised. I'm so glad I made that decision, because when the band came onstage and I heard Charlie's piano part quickly joined by Immy's soaring guitar melody that opens "Sullivan Street," I can't explain the feeling. I felt like I couldn't even contain the happiness inside me; it leaked out through my mouth in a huge grin and inaudible laughs and through my body as my shoulders shook and my head tilted back and even a little bit through my eyes as miniature drops of liquid filled them up before disappearing, blurring the stage and then allowing it to come into beautiful, perfect focus. That opening guitar melody to "Sullivan Street" was a moment of pure joy. When I'm overwhelmed by the real world, I can just play that melody in my head and it takes me back to that moment and the memory of that joy is enough. I love how powerful music can be.
(The recording of "Sullivan Street" posted above is from that concert.)