Hidden hellbilly sides...

We went out to another show last night. Its not uncommon for us to go out for some live music. In fact, sometimes I feel guilty that we leave Bridget home with a babysitter so often so we can go out to catch a show. Since we didn't take the camera, the best I can do is this picture of me modeling my new hat from the merch table. What was different was that it was an actual "get up, get sweaty, and dance.... throw yer fist in the air" kinda show. I grew up with the 90's as the soundtrack to my teen years. Mother Love Bone, Screaming Trees, & Alice in Chains got me pumped and I loved being in a crowded smokey room with bodies flying overhead and the swarming mosh pit in front of me. I even have my beloved old blue Doc Martens from back then. But over the years, my taste got a bit crunchier and I traded mosh pits for taper sections and girls spinning in patchwork dresses. From there I morphed into sit down and listen to the song and the story telling songwriter concerts. Until last night, I didn't realize how much it had changed on me. I forgot what it was like when folks battled to get 2 feet closer in the crowd. I'd lost my bag of tricks to keep my dancing bubble the right size. If you are passively watching the show and not dancing, folks will take advantage of that. If you dance like a fool and throw your elbows out a bit more, they avoid you for fear of getting hit. Jessica and I loved using that tactic in our single girl days. So, the show we saw was Hank Williams III. Looks like his grandpa and sings like the devil. He sings about poppin pills, smokin dope, and livin wild. Some of the time, I felt like a hypocrite and wondered if the guy next to me could tell that I was the mother of a toddler who goes to church and the only pill I pop is Aleve. But I pumped my fist and danced as hard as I could. I even felt the slightest urge to move closer to the mosh pit but decided that at 34ish, its not as cool to slam around with a bunch of sweaty disheveled guys. I did, however, laugh at a group of guys in the back of the venue who were trying to psyche themselves up to make their own 4 man mosh pit. I may not be cool enough for the front of the stage crowd anymore, but I'm not lame enough to create a poser pit in the back. Long story short, we had a blast. We admired the spectacular rockabilly hair and clothes, enjoyed the heck out of my gin and tonics, and thanked the stars above that we married people that see the value of live music and not being afraid of dancing when everyone around you thinks they're too cool to move their feet. So here's a little acoustic Hank III.... last night was a lot more down and dirty with the bad. His hellbilly and metal side, Assjack, tore it up and left my throat sore and ears ringing into the next day as well.