Following up on a movie recommendation

A couple of my roommates and I just watched the 1980 A-list flick, The Jazz Singer. We all agreed that something magical happens when we hear the intro to Coming to America and it makes us even more proud to consider this great nation home. Two of us had seen Neil Diamond in concert. I saw him at the Delta Center (back when it was the Delta Center) with my mom and the Chandlers. Reflecting back on this concert, watching the larger than life star wearing a red, white & blue sequined polyester disco-style suit with tufts of chest hair tangling in a heavy chain necklace standing underneath the larger than life American flag, with fireworks and thousands of fans on their feet singing along, got me thinking about some of the great shows I've been blessed to be in the audience for.

My first real concert was Bush, No Doubt and Goo Goo Dolls, also at the Delta Center in 1995. I remember that there had been some local tragic teenage death recently and was aware that the victim's friends were across the way from where we were sitting. When the Goo Goo Dolls played Iris, I remember being especially moved. The best part, however, was watching Gavin Rossdale strut around the stage and talk to the audience in his sultry British accent--oh baby.

Fast forward to the summer of 2005 to the lawn of Deer Valley ski resort. The ski resorts in the summer have been the setting for many a good time--Steve Miller, Dave Matthews, John Mayer, Guster, and others--but the most memorable will be when we saw Air Supply and the Utah Philharmonic. It was an unbelievably magical combination under the Utah summer night sky.

Rewind to my first "non-real" concert in middle-school. We were having a sleep over with a bunch of my friends from the Lindsay Ward and, if my memory serves me correctly, someone's mom called to announce that the Osmond Boys were giving a free concert at the Superstition Springs Mall in the outdoor amphitheater. We all piled in my mom's suburban and like the school girls we were, screamed all the way there and through the entire show. We swooned as they covered wholesome songs like Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch. I got an autographed t-shirt that I think I wore to bed for days. Mind you, I had never even heard of the Osmond Boys before that night, but oh boy did I become a groupie quick! Don't worry, it was a fleeting obsession, yet one that came full circle just this last summer when my friend Anastasia and I went to hear some friends of ours play at a small summer concert series. One of the performers happened to be Dave Osmond (an original Osmond Boy and one of those guys who I've run in the overlapping social circles with for years, but he never remembers me). In his first set, he sang a medley of pop songs. A smart choice on his part because we were all singing along. When he started Jason Mraz's I'm Yours, he must have noticed Stas and me singing every word and because of our unfortunate seats near the front on the middle aisle, he approached us with the mic and stuck it in our faces. I don't sing in public, but Stas doesn't really sing at all and hid behind me. I was forced to sing a whole chorus in front of (but luckily with my back to) the small crowd. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed.

When all is said and done, I'm not sure anything can top Neil. Money talks, but it don't sing and dance and it don't walk. And long as I can have you here with me I'd much rather be Forever in blue jeans. Good times.