For the second year in a row at the very same venue Dave Matthews left Buffalo after seeing a female press photographer raise both her arms in rock & roll salute (ie: the deaf person's I LOVE YOU, I & L & Y all rolled into one) while hollering "Dave...YOU ROCK, I LOVE YOU" in great earnestness to the great amusement of her male colleagues standing all around her.
One of the group, of blackest/evilest wit, pronounced that our recently-departed fellow photog who was on the DMB press credential list for Reuters would not be there. We tittered, the press lady looked horrified, and later we each drank two expensive beers hoisted up in the departed's honor, to lubricate his way, I suppose, wherever he might be headed.
Tonight I photoraphed moe., national jam band superstars as the pungent scent of patchouli wafted over the 20K in attendance. The first time I shot the four/now five including a deft m.c. they were at a small bar playing in the front window.
I was annoyed at my lack of angle tonight and persevered and fought my way through the crowd to get what I wanted - the front line at a good moment. Like sex, it's all about angles and moments (and scents, and appearances, and feeling "it").
Opening for DMB was Angelique (great and I will be buying her cd) and lovely Macy Gray. I met the official DMB tour photog, Rudy, who bore an uncanny (albeit puffier) resemblance to Dave. He got snuffly when I asked which band he was with. I think the elastic waistband of his sweatpants was too tight.