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As anyone who reads through these missives must realize, it’s not uncommon for me to get in the car and drive for hours (days even) or hop on a plane to see a concert or two. I have lots of friends that do this as well, and we all pretty much always travel to see the same sort of bands. Generally these are jam-type bands like Phish or Dead-related acts, peppered with a few icons of classic rock like Springsteen, Prince (RIP), Dylan, The Stones…that sort of thing.
However, I have a couple of friends out east who use their airmiles to see a whole other sort of show. Derrick is really into Van Halen while Lisa (it turns out) is a Duran Duranhead.
To be honest, until Duran Duran booked into the 2016 Ottawa Bluesfest I had no idea Duran Duranheadedness was even a thing, but it turned out I had known one all along.
And so I was pleased to pick up my friends at the airport and squeeze them into our tiny spare bedroom for a couple of nights, and I want to tell you when show day arrived on July 16th Lisa was pretty excited.
Which made us excited.
It was raining when we arrived onsite but no problemo there, I had brought ponchos for the three of us. I think Lisa’s was left over from a ride on the Maid Of The Mist – I don’t recall exactly – but I sure do remember that Derrick and I were both wearing black rain ponchos I had picked up in Amsterdam a few years before. They were nothing more than garbage bags with face holes cut in one corner, with some coffeeshop logo emblazoned on the front.
When Derrick and I pulled on our ponchos we couldn’t help but laugh. We looked utterly ridiculous, like two KKK members in negative (which is pretty ironic when you think about it). Don’t worry; I don’t think we offended anybody, except maybe the fashion police.
I saw a bit of HOLY F*CK, a band almost as daring and alienating as their name, which I don’t think my friends had much interest in. I think we split up for an hour or two and met up just before the headliners, not far from the soundboard.
Lisa was jumping up and down and tingling with excitement. Having her at the show screaming her head off like a fifteen-year old and high-fiving everyone around her made it just so, so much fun. Had Lisa (and Derrick) not been there I would still have checked out Duran Duran, no question about that. Though the young rocker I used to be hated them (sort of) in their heyday I absorbed enough to eventually realize that Duran Duran wrote a lot of seriously good (and brilliantly arranged) pop songs. I would have surely clapped, whistled, and maybe even tapped my foot along with the big songs.
But standing next to Lisa for the show amped things up considerably. Though she had the setlist memorized she swooned with shock and squealed with amazement at the start of every single song. Other fans gravitated towards her energy; there was much singing, hugging and swooning. By the time the band encored with Save A Prayer and Rio Lisa and her new cohorts were nothing but a melted blob of blissful ecstasy, their wide eyes rolling back into their heads.
It was so great. I wish she had come the year Peter Frampton played.
Todd Man Out 