Monday, February 21, 2011


Last weekend, I was sweetly serenaded by the man of my 15 year-old dreams ... tantric yogi-bass-rockin'-Policeman-extraordinaire ...STING!
My friend Courtney was given 2 fancy amex tickets by her bosses and was generous enough to bring me along. Yaaaay rich bosses!

You guys, seriously. Seriously. My mouth was gaped for the first 10 minutes. Then I was just giggling for a while. Then I kinda calmed down .. then more giggling. Then a little crying. Then I mighta blacked out for a minute (check with Courtney). Then some really bad singing along*

Then I just enjoyed. I'll admit I had my doubts whether or not he could seamlessly climb that scale after all these years ... but he f'n nailed it. Those rasp-sexy chords have aged gorgeously.

There were a few details I wasn't too gushy to overlook -- I think he needed a few more back-up singers (or me, sober), a pedal steel for his country song (or not keep it in the set) and he took waaay too long to showcase his phenomenal keys player. But overall ...  a great performance.

We made our way down to the floor in time for the encores:
sigh...damn. is what I have to say about that view.

I tried to get some good pics, but, my feeble digital camera didn't mix well with the ever-shifting stage lights.
Ah well. You should go see for yourself one day anyway.

*documented below.  Listen here as Free Stella-Tipsy Tracy mistakenly identifies Roxanne as indeed and well within her octave range