A Night With The Head and the Heart

I recently had the pleasure of attending the second-best concert I've ever been to.  

 

I wish I could say I've been a fan of The Head and The Heart for years, because then I wouldn't have been missing out all this time. Sadly, that's not the case. It wasn't until a couple months ago that I heard them for the first time. A very dear friend of mine was in the area for a brief visit. Upon having the "I'll miss you so much," conversation dear friends have before parting ways for an indefinite amount of time, she told me about a song I simply had to hear.

 

"It's about friends leaving," she said.

 

Later that week, she posted a live video of The Head and The Heart performing a song called Rivers and Roads. Not live as in on-stage-surrounded-by-screaming-fans live, but live as in acoustic-performance-under-a-bridge-surrounded-by-nature-and-thing-else live.

 

 

 

 

Be still my beating heart.

 

The first listen gave me chills. The second brought tears to my eyes. I lost myself in their music and immediately dubbed them a new favorite. Days later, I was checking out upcoming concerts in the area and practically fell off my chair when I saw The Head and The Heart was scheduled to perform at the House of Blues in Cleveland. Not only was it scheduled for a day I could actually attend, but tickets were only $20 a person. Um, sold!

Then came the challenge of finding someone to accompany me to the concert. Unfortunately, since all my friends were either busy or uninterested, that person ended up being my boyfriend. I know, I know, that sounds terrible. I love him, I promise. It's just that we have completely different tastes in music. Folksy Americana is not his style. I wanted to take someone who would appreciate the experience as much as I would. I knew he wouldn't, but I also knew taking him was better than going alone.

 

Once we arrived, we were able to find a decent spot on the floor, which is standing room only. Unfortunately, our view was obstructed by the largest group of tall people I've ever seen in my life. I can only assume they were part of some club or association - Tall Persons of Cleveland Unite, or The Vertically Unchallenged Association of America, perhaps. Each one of the eight or so people in the group measured six feet or over. I felt I was being punished for the time I called Lady Gaga's platforms "ridiculously stupid." Believe me, at that moment, I wished I had Gaga's footwear! Fortunately, despite their height, I was still able to (mostly) see the stage by craning my neck at an awkward angle.

 

The opening band wasn't exactly my cup of tea. They were talented, but I didn't quite "get" their music. It didn't help that while they performed, someone in the audience was either so drugged, so intoxicated, or so out of his mind that he urinated right next to us on the floor of the House of Blues in Cleveland.

 

Yes. That actually happened.

 

Following the awkward and anger-inducing public urination (I'll spare you the details), I was more than ready for the headlining band to take the stage. I can hardly express how amazing it was when they finally did. Their music is described as "pulsing effervescently—both explosively danceable and intuitively intelligent. With Americana roots and strong vocal harmonics that swell like a river, this band finds its anchor in solid songwriting that has even the jaded humming along by the second listen." Well said, Heather Browne. Well said.

 

The minute The Head and the Heart came out, the energy in the room shifted. It was as if, rather than be the experience, they wanted to be a part of it. This is rare. Many performers come out and make it feel like they're doing you a favor. Sure, most of them are, but it kind of sucks when you feel like they're only there because they have to be. That was so not the case with The Head and the Heart, for which I was grateful. They seeemed so happy to be there. Perhaps that, along with their extraordinary talent for vocals, lyrics, and instruments, is what made us (the audience) receive them so well.

 

As they played, the audience came alive. We danced, we clapped, we stomped along to the beat of the music. It was like nothing I've ever experienced and I loved every moment. It felt like coming home.

 

My favorite part of the concert was when they played Rivers and Roads, and no, it's not just because it's my most loved song of theirs. The lyrics are incredibly meaningful to me. Upon listening to the voices surrounding me as we all sang along, I could tell I wasn't the only one personally touched by the song. It was truly a moment I will never forget.

 

If you've never heard their music, I strongly recommend it. And if you love it enough to go see them in concert, well, you can ride with me, because you know I'll be going next time they come around!

The Whistler

You may not know this about me, but I cannot whistle.

In the same way some people cannot roll their tongues – which, by the way, seems ridiculous – I cannot whistle.

When I was little, I was frustrated by my incapability to whistle. I had it in my head that it was something one could learn to do, like drawing a heart or adding two plus two. And I had certainly learned how to do those things, so learn to whistle I would!

I absolutely hated eating the crust on bread. Looking back, I think it was more superficial than anything; I just didn’t like the way it looked. At some point, my grandma started telling me eating the crust on my bread would help me learn to whistle. Taking her grandmotherly wisdom to heart, I earnestly devoured every bite of bread, crust and all, despite the fact that I was a cut-the-crust-off-my-sandwiches-please kind of girl. But, no matter how much crust I consumed, I still could not whistle! (Maybe this is why I have a carb-complex today.) It took me longer than it probably should have (aka well into my teens) to realize that I was the victim of a grandmotherly ruse.

Now that you know how much I wanted to whistle, you may be surprised to learn that whistling annoys me.

Allow me to clarify.

I don’t hate all whistling. If it’s done to catch someone’s attention or used as a Marco-Polo approach to finding someone in the grocery store, that’s fine. It's also acceptable if you are singing Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

 

However, when someone whistles for long periods of time in otherwise silent spaces, it drives me crazy. I want to scream, "WHY ARE YOU WHISTLING?" What, do these people feel the need to provide a soundtrack to my awesome and otherwise silent movie? Are they trying to spread cheer? I just don't understand. The worst part is, I would feel terribly rude saying, "Will you please stop whistling?"

 

I suppose there's nothing I can do except offer them a sleeve of saltine crackers and hope they accept. You know, to dry up the mouth.