I went on my own. There was a work thing. They were going to a restaurant. I went to the bar, then I went back to work. I ate porridge and a muesli bar for dinner. I watched Southpark on the internet. Butters was photographed as he slept. Left after a while and walked over to Tripod. It might have been a nice evening. I'm not positive. It's Friday night now. I think the sun was setting. I think there was a feeling of September.
I arrived during the last support. I stood by the wall. I leaned against it, pushed it, stretched, watched the crowd. After support I moved to a better vantage point. The crowd was pressed in, not as relaxed as the last few gigs in Tripod. I paused seven or eight people from the front. I was aligned with the piano keys. Some tall heads blocked my view. I figured they'd move. I can't complain about height.
The crowd were very neat.
I didn't trust the crowd.
I
last saw Regina in February 2006.
It feels like I saw her in February 2007.
Ms. Spektor snuck out from the left of the stage.
Everyone was very happy to see her, and she was happy to see everyone.
She played the piano and sang. A fan pushed smoke across the stage and over the piano. The lights changed colours, illuminated the crowd. Sound was good. Regina did some sound check stuff once or twice, but everything coming to "us" was perfect. Tripod had turned off their noisy air-conditioning. They turned in on for one song to remind me how noisy it was. Pins could fall when it was off. Without the conditioning the venue cooked. I was reduced to all shirt buttons open but two. Girls fanned themselves. A mist floated into the air. I'd pick the heat over the noise.
She didn't play Samson. She opened singing into a mic on her own. The crowd made her laugh. There was an encore, and then she played Samson. The next day vivid memories of her voice came to me in the street. She's a very good singer. I prefer her in person to the record. This isn't always the case...
There was only one setlist. There were no setlists. We squeezed through the corridors and out the doors. I threw my jacket over my shoulders. I walked down Harcourt Street. The change in temperature reminded me of concerts years ago. Old violent concerts where we exerted ourselves and the sweat would dry as we walked away. It wasn't quite that bad, but it was hot.
I walked down Harcourt Street.
