I had a series of nightmares last night starring the Dixie Chicks. Why? Well, for one, they came out in faux punker outfits, replete with bondage chains at knees and slicked-back tresses to resemble mohawks. e-fuckin-gads.
I forgot to point out to Boy Colleague Marky that when you looked up at the video monitors the lead singer with the faux mullet/mohawk looked like a strange tropical fish as her face was divided down the center by a black piece of metal, each side of her face projected onto two different monitors.
A most creepy effect.
Their soundboard wasn't half a mile away (calling to mind Rod Stewart, that saggy aging rock star) but was more like 80 feet so it wasn't as horrific as we imagined and the trio came together at the end of song three for us. It would have been a most picturesque photo op if not for the two hundred fans standing in front of us with fists waving in the breeze. Some of my Dixie Chicks together shots look they're getting puched in the chins by large black tentacles but I have gorgeous shots of the three separately - same for Joan Osbourne.
Saw Don Keller meandering through the security holding pen and asked whatinhell he was doing there. Retouching photos of Joan, he said. Met up with several members of Janet Reno Fan Club afterwards and Allison, who does film and video in SARS-ridden TO, said she shot a video of Joan O and her weight (and hiding same) was a huge issue. So I imagine Don was PhotoShopping pounds off.
Ended up at Americanarama at Mohawk Place, and dove into a long conversation about the Middling City's way-illustrious alternative musical past when The Pipe Dragon was operating full steam ahead on Ellicott Street. Impressed Mohawk by showing him my Pipe Dragon membership card (#0082) which I always carry. We wondered where David Baker is now - founder of the first incarnation of Mercury Rev and my former roomie and darkroom partner. The man, I divulged, was hopelessly addicted to Alf.
Rockstars, a mystery a minute.
Onwards.