The other day, I got a notification from my bank that there was a new credit on my account. I’d received a refund for the Watsky concert tickets that I’d purchased nearly two years ago.
I’d known this was coming - I had seen the announcement when, after two postponements, George Watsky finally decided to cancel his concert tour. I don’t blame him - under the circumstances there is no easy choice, and his reasoning was entirely logical. Still, it sucks. It just sucks.
I’ve seen Watsky perform live four times, including the opening set for StarKid Productions that first introduced me to him in 2012. While I’ve enjoyed all of his shows, my favorite by far was when I saw him at the Fillmore near the end of my senior year in high school. Watsky’s a San Francisco native, and I vividly remember this moment during that concert when he was at the edge of the stage, reaching out to touch hands with audience members, and he looked out over the crowd. And I could just see in his eyes what an incredible moment this was for him, something he had dreamed of and worked so hard for, playing a show in this venue, in his hometown, hundreds of people screaming his lyrics along with him.
Then after the show I got a photo with him, and he kissed my best friend on the cheek, so that was pretty cool.
For this now-cancelled tour, I had tickets for both of his shows in San Francisco, both back at the Fillmore. One was a run-of-the-mill concert, but the other was a straight playthrough of my favorite album of his, Cardboard Castles. He made a conscientious and responsible choice to cancel his shows, but when I imagine seeing Watsky, in the Fillmore, playing every song from one of my all-time favorite albums - god it hurts to have lost that possibility. So I’ll take a minute to mourn that loss, and then buck up and move on, because that’s all there is to do. That would have been an amazing experience, but that’s not the reality I live in.
Speaking of live music, though, on Saturday I went to see the Jonas Brothers, my first live concert since the Before Times. I’d been to two Jonas Brothers concerts before they broke up, and this was the second one I’d attended since their reunion. The first time I saw them was my first concert ever. It was the summer of 2008, I was thirteen, and I went with my two cousins who were also some of my best friends at the time. The part of their set that night that I remember most clearly was when they played “Lovebug,” a yet-unreleased song off their upcoming album A Little Bit Longer. That show sparked an obsession with these dumb, musically-talented brothers that I have yet to shake.
On Saturday night, I returned to that same venue - a huge amphitheater in the middle of nowhere, north of Sacramento - this time with my little sister. It’s been half my lifetime since I saw them that first time, but I still felt just as joyful and energetic and obsessed as I sang and danced along to every song. I was in a huge crowd of people while the pandemic still marches on, and the air was choked with smoke from not-too-distant wildfires, but still, god, it was fun. They played all of their old standards - not ashamed or dismissive of the music that rocketed them to fame and got me and so many other 13-year-old girls excited about them so long ago - along with newer songs that I’ve come to love as well. I knew every word and chord and beat of “That’s Just the Way We Roll.” They sang “Lovebug,” reminding me that it is truly the most perfect song (okay, yes, that ‘modesty’ line still bothers me all these years later, but it can be forgiven for how excellent the song is otherwise). They featured guitarist JinJoo Lee on not just one but two DNCE covers, which is probably the closest I’ll ever get to seeing a DNCE concert.
I was pleasantly surprised by the range of people in the audience - the spread of ages, the gender ratio, the contrast of scantily-clad young adults drinking Truly cans and the family groups with young children. It warmed me to know that so many different people could be invested in this silly band of brothers and their music, that new people are still discovering and enjoying them, that their work continues to draw in new people instead of being a fading relic of the late-2000’s.
I’ve joked recently that I’m reverting to my 16-year-old self - mostly because I’ve been rewatching Glee with a friend this year, and this summer in particular I have a lot of renewed feelings about the stupid, absurd show that took up so much of my teenage brainspace. But, my recent taste in music is also lending credibility to this theory, even beyond what I’ve already revealed in this post. Darren Criss recently released a new EP that I’ve been listening to on repeat (even though it’s only five songs, why do you do this to me Darren??) Masquerade is a somewhat eclectic mix of songs, self-described as a series of ‘masks,’ a different character or story playing out in each track. All of them are good, though, in their own ways.
I’ve also been listening to the recent release from Walk the Moon, one of my favorite bands. Their lead single, “Can You Handle My Love??”, is getting some radio play, but the other singles released at the same time are also really good. Walk the Moon has been one of my most enduring favorite bands because they’ve evolved and experimented over time, their music in one album never quite the same as the one before, but it’s always remained extremely in my wheelhouse.
I’ve been watching the new season of Ted Lasso, which you’ve probably already heard is an extremely excellent show. I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen a show with exactly the same tone - Parks and Recreation might come close, with its mix of upbeat optimism and cynical pragmatism, but even that isn’t quite the right analogy. Ted Lasso is about people in challenging situations, about adults dealing with complicated problems in high-pressure situations, but it is also aggressively and endearingly positive and loving. And, meanwhile, often very funny.
While waiting for new episodes of Ted Lasso, I’ve been rewatching Pushing Daisies. This is, I think, the third time I’ve watched the show, but it’s been a long time and I’d forgotten a lot of details. Again, the tone of this show is delightfully unique - both macabre and picturesque, quaint and darkly serious. The unusual supernatural constraints on the main romance make it all the more compelling. Probably you never would have expected a scene where a woman pours hundreds of dead bees onto the mostly-naked body of her boyfriend to be sweet and romantic, but...it is, it just is. It’s a bizarre and truly excellent show. And if none of that intrigues you, just - take a look at Lee Pace in this show, he's gorgeous and adorable in equal measures, and his portrayal of Ned the Pie-Maker is incredible.
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