A weekend to remember

Here I am. Bryan Adams was here, too. I mean, in the city. For a concert. There were thousands of bulbs (fans is a depreciating word). I was there, too.

It was one heck of an event. Being someone who literally grew up listening to his songs, I'm glad I attended it. Besides, it was also my first open air gig. On any given day, I'd hate crowd but on that particular evening, I begged to differ with myself. Classical concerts in a packed auditorium soothe your nerves but this was something else.

When you're in a faceless event as such, no one recognizes you and you are just another aficionado or worse. You gradually seep into a maddening rush to be part of an experience that it doesn't matter even if the person standing beside you is howling, whistling or throwing his limbs into whatever space available. It is as if you were just part of something big, something much bigger than you. I know I must be sounding exaggerating as usual but trust me, it was beautiful. Especially for a bonafide-weekend- hikikomori like me. Additionally, I wonder if a gig could be so adrenalinistic, how would a revolution with all its charming protests feel like. No surprise, Arab countries are having the time of their life out on their streets.

And yes, how can I forget Bryan Adams? The guy is 51 but will stay 18 till he dies. He had this aura of a stage performer and a sandpaper voice that didn't betray a chord. He crooned almost all his hit songs with his trademark guitar in hand. What struck me was the sheer power a musician of his stature holds. He asks you to hold your cellphone high so as to lighten up the ground a la full moon night and you gladly oblige. He goads you to join him in the song and you shout at the top of your throat in your frog-kissed voice without a care. That's what I loved about the whole thing. You are free in spite of being trapped in swarm of strangers. There must be thousands of singers out there but not everyone can get people involved. A good performer never does it alone. He makes sure the audiences are invited in the party. I can go on and on about Bryan Adams. Maybe it has a lot to do with the fact that I've never seen an international singer perform before. Whatever it is, I can still go on and on about him. He duly deserves it. Plus, his crew, especially the guitarist Keith "Fastest Fingers" Scott, was damn lively. Interestingly, whenever they displayed Keith's lightning fingers strumming on the big screen, people turned quiet due to undeniable electric awesomeness whereas Bryan's voice brought the spoilt schoolkids in us out. Again.

Amazing as it was, there wasn't any sign of fatigue or boredom. It was indeed a weekend to remember and *helped* in churning out an usually positive post, for a change.

In related news, I must stop cribbing and start going out more. Not.