The Furious Spinner

Annie Lennox was beyond fabulous last night. I hadn't seen her on stage in twenty years, but she just keeps getting better. Last night was lower key, so to speak, than when she was part of the Eurythmics. She was dressed in jeans and a top, and she sang her heart out. No flashing lights, no pyrotechnics. Beautiful, beautiful music. I cried the entire time she sang. WEPT. I kept thinking of who I had been when I first saw her (just starting to get sick) and who I am now. Not a pretty picture. The years don't seem to have taken a toll on her, however. I hope that's true.

Annie is a goddess. Sting is not. I've never been a big fan of his music. We long ago nicknamed his song "Every breath you take" as the stalking song. But I've admired some of the causes he's supported, and the name of the tour is the Sacred Love Tour, after all. Well, when it was Sting's time, lights were flashing everywhere. I had to cover my eyes. In the back of the set were these huge screens, which we couldn't see that well because we were to the left of the stage in the nosebleed section. (Neither singer really acknowledged or turned to either side. They primarily played to those right in front of them, which was weird—our money was just as good, thank you very much.) Anyway, before Sting started singing "Sacred Love," he asked if we were all feeling sexy because he was and it was time for a little Victoria Secret. I'm thinking, what was that? A plug for their lingerie? That's tacky. Now, I'm not a prude by any stretch. I believe in sacred erotic wonderful love and sex and all that crap. I wasn't feeling particularly sexy but if Sting was, more power to him. So he starts singing "Sacred Love" about 45 minutes into his set. On the huge screens behind him played a film of 20-something women mostly dressed in their underwear stripping. No 20-something men stripping. No men period. Just pure sexual objectification of these young women. None of them looked like they were having a good time, by the way. They stripped the way models walk down the runways: looking sullen and bored. Frankly, I thought Sting was better than that. He's been married for a long time to a seemingly strong outspoken woman. It's difficult for me to imagine she would have been OK with the strip show. The teenage boy with his girlfriend sitting next to us looked embarrassed and his girlfriend looked extremely uncomfortable. We had planned on leaving soon anyway, so we took that opportunity to get up and leave. I guess Sting is no feminist.

I wished we had left before he came on. On the way back to the car, we rode the MAX. It was filled with teenagers. Full. It went along fine for a few minutes and then it stopped. And the doors wouldn't open. We were trapped on this closed train. We saw the driver get up and LEAVE. I'm not good in confined places. (Is anyone?) I was shorter than just about everyone. One of the kids said, "Someone got shot." Another one said, "Don't say that." Finally at the front of the car we saw people getting off, so we hurried up there and stepped out into the fresh air and walked the rest of the way back to the car.

I wished I was humming Annie's tunes as we walked, but Sting was stuck in my head. In fact I dreamed I was sleeping at a Sting concert.

But this morning, I'm listening to Annie. She is a goddess. 0 comments

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