You know who knows how to put on a concert that doesn't sound like an album? Bob Dylan. I've seen him a couple times -- you can't even sing along; even if you know the lyrics he completely changes the rhythm and phrasing. (And yes there is an easy joke in there somewhere about not being able to understand Dylan's lyrics. But even if you do!)
You've probably noticed by now that Frank's concert arrangements were not the same as the album arrangements -- and that's without even getting into improvisation.
I never got to see Frank live; he died when I was 11 years old. But I've seen Zappa Plays Zappa some 3 or 4 times, and it's fucking delightful how different it is from what's on Frank's albums. (There are plenty of examples but the one that jumps out at me is Dirty Love -- maybe 3, 4 years ago? Woo woo!)
Can't imagine why anyone would go to a fucking concert to duplicate the experience of listening to a recording. I want to be surprised and delighted.
Today was the celebration for the end of the project I'm on.
I'll be honest -- I wasn't terribly in the mood for celebration. The thing we were celebrating is the same thing that means I will be filling out an unemployment form two weeks from now.
(That's a little glib. My temp agency has, once again, stepped up; I've already had an interview and even if that doesn't work out they told me they've got another bite. Still and all, the point is that with the project over I've got my walking papers, wherever I may be walking to.)
The boss took us out to lunch. And one of the help desk guys asked me, "So what's next for Thad?"
This is exactly the kind of thing that I would have assumed would upset or depress me -- people actually acknowledging that yeah my days here are numbered. (Ten.)
But it didn't. The way he said it -- friendly, upbeat. Optimistic. Just the assumption in his phrasing -- there is something that's next for Thad.
And that cheered me right the fuck up. After that my day wasn't such a downer.