February/March

It’s been an incredibly busy two months, in both work and play, hence the recent dearth of blog postings. I won’t bore you with the work stuff, but here’s a sampling of some of the fun things we’ve been doing:

Lots of Theater

In early February, Tim and I went to a reading of a two-person work-in-progress play called The Opponent, featuring TV stars Dulé Hill and Donal Logue as a pair of washed-up pugilists. Extremely intimate venue—one of the rehearsal rooms at Culver City’s Kirk Douglas Theater—and interesting performances. Not a bad way to spend part of a gloomy Sunday afternoon.

Two days later, Karen and I saw Sting and his wife Trudie Styler perform in a benefit reading of Twin Spirits, a short play chronicling the highly romantic (and ultimately tragic) love story of German composers Robert and Clara Schumann. John Lithgow narrated while violinist Joshua Bell and others played music from both composers. Judging by the ovation he got before the play even started, Sting was the evening’s big draw. But it was truly Trudie’s night as she gave an emotionally moving performance as Clara who, as a teenager, falls in love with the older Robert and remains faithful to him long after his untimely death. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

Karen and I also saw Jane Fonda play a Beethoven scholar dying of Lou Gehrig’s disease in the Tony-winning drama 33 Variations. The entire cast was terrific, but it was Fonda whom everyone was buzzing about as we left the theater. Her performance was great, plus she looked absolutely fabulous.

Paley Festival

A big part of March is always spent at the Paley Fest, the Paley Center for Media’s star-studded annual celebration of television. Although the two-week festival used to honor the TV shows of our youth, in recent years it’s become mainly a showcase for the most popular programs of the moment. We attended four events this year: Parks and Recreation, Glee, Raising Hope, and a reunion of Judd Apatow’s Undeclared and Freaks & Geeks, two cult favorites that aired in 2001 and 1999.

Parks and Rec was, of course, very funny, with nearly all the cast present. (Though Rob Lowe was absent, everyone insisted he’s staying on the show.) The actors obviously all have great affection for each other and acknowledged that Amy Poehler is their leader.

Glee was the same: lots of cast love and joy about being on such a mega-hit program. I was disappointed that Lea Michele was back-east filming a movie, but almost everyone else was there. Jane Lynch is very attractive in person.

Disappointed, too, that Cloris Leachman didn’t attend the Raising Hope panel, but enjoyed the rest of the cast. We did get to sneak-preview the final episode of the season: a flashback to before Hope was born—very funny!

And speaking of funny, the Apatow reunion was, of course, crazy and profane. Neither Charlie Hunnam, who now stars on Sons of Anarchy, or Oscar-nominated James Franco were there, but they both sent cute videos, which the audience loved. Lots of affectionately funny stories about Franco, in particular. It was wonderful seeing the “freaky” and “geeky” kids (Seth Rogen, Jay Baruchel, Jason Segel, Busy Philips, Linda Cardellini, et al.) now all grown-up . . . and, for the most part, extremely rich and famous.

Food!

As an early birthday present, I treated Karen to a Moroccan cooking class at the Beverly Hills Williams-Sonoma a couple of weeks ago. We learned how to make a savory chicken stew (which I made this week at home—yum!), couscous with almonds and apricots, carrot and parsnip salad, and orange-cardmom ice cream. The point of the class, of course, was to get us to buy Williams-Sonoma products; but the food was just amazing, so we easily ignored the sales pitch and concentrated on the meal. I highly recommend trying other cooking events there—some of which are even free!

And, of course, Disneyland

Tim has a ton of vacation time to burn-off at work, so we went to Disneyland one rainy Friday morning, just because we hadn’t been there in a while. The crowds were light and we were in-and-out all within four hours. My kind of TGIF!

Sting @ the Hollywood Bowl

As I’ve reported before on this blog, I’ve been a huge Sting fan since the early 1980s. In fact, I like to say that I’ve been in love with Sting longer than I’ve been in love with Tim--which is probably why Tim doesn’t mind buying me Sting tickets just as long as he doesn’t have to go with me to the concerts.

Sting has reinvented himself many times over the past thirty years. Starting as the lead singer for the rock band The Police, his music took a decidedly jazz-pop turn when he struck out on his own in the mid-80s. He’s won two Grammy awards and has received three “best song” Oscar nominations. He’s even appeared in movies (remember the near-naked Feyd Rautha in David Lynch’s Dune?). In 2006, he recorded Songs from the Labyrinth, a CD of Elizabethan tunes, which he performed with lutenist Eden Karamazov, and last year filmed a reading of Twin Spirits, a play about German composer Robert Schumann (Sting) and his composer wife Clara Wieck (Trudie Styler, Sting’s real-life wife). He is currently touring with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, performing symphonic versions of his pop-rock songs. Last night’s Hollywood Bowl concert was sold-out.

Tim was actually going to see Sting with me this time, but had to work at the last minute (damn those Lakers!), so Karen went instead. The concert was scheduled to start at 8PM, so we left the house at 5:30PM. We took the shuttle from Hollywood & Highland, the garish mall half-a-mile south of the Hollywood Bowl. Three radio stations were broadcasting from outside the Bowl: Jack FM (classic & contemporary rock), KLOS (classic rock) and KOST (L.A.’s best-known “soft rock” station). It just goes to show how eclectic Sting’s music is!

Most of the audience seemed to be our age, though some were much younger. One of my former students (in his early 40s) happened to sit two rows in front of us. I was surprised to hear that he and his wife became fans long after Sting left The Police. How old must I be to still be a fan from his Police days? Yikes!

It was light out when the orchestra arrived and started to play. We assumed they might play a few opening numbers before our hero appeared. But, no, after only a handful of notes, Sting came strolling out and sang to jubilant applause.

The Bowl is an enormous venue (18,000 seats) and we were nowhere near the stage. Still, I could tell he was trim and fit. The large video screens, on both sides of the stage, also confirmed that he’s as gorgeous as ever. The best part, though, was his voice, which is still beautiful and strong. Normally I would have cried when he started to sing, but it was daylight and didn’t want to look like a blubbering fool!

The concert was fabulous. Sting sang all my personal favorites and spent a lot of time providing context for many of the songs. He doesn’t usually converse much with the audience, so this was a wonderful treat. He was obviously relaxed and sang for two hours, at one point bringing out trumpet-player and good friend Chris Botti, much to everyone’s happy surprise. The concert ended with “Every Breath You Take,” arguably Sting’s most famous song (but not one of my favorites), followed by three (!!!) encores. His final offering: an acapella rendering of “I Was Brought to My Senses.” Even people who were rushing to beat the traffic stopped to listen. It was a breathtaking ending to a perfect evening.

The Police

I’ve had a secret love affair with rock/pop legend Sting since 1983, when he and his former band, The Police, recorded their last studio album together. Sting, of course, has no idea who I am. Plus I’d have to fight half the women in the world—including his wife Trudie—for his affections. Nevertheless, I unabashedly adore him.

Over the years, I’ve seen him perform countless times as a solo act. But the most memorable concert still is the first time I saw him play with The Police 24 years ago. I was living in San Diego at the time, so Karen came down to accompany me to Aztec Stadium. We argued over who was going to use the binoculars first when Sting came out in a flesh-colored outfit that made him look decidedly naked. We’ve both been fans ever since.

Rumors had been flying around that The Police, who had become estranged after disbanding in the mid-1980s, were going to reunite. Sure enough, a few months ago they held a press conference to announce a world tour this summer. I immediately called Tim and asked him to get tickets through his radio contacts. They cost a small fortune, but he did good: four seats on the field at Dodger Stadium, 20 rows from the stage.

After what seemed like years, concert day (Saturday) finally arrived. I kept busy by cleaning the house and watching DVDs of The Police and Sting. I even unearthed a vintage t-shirt from Sting’s first solo concert 20 years ago, but was distressed to discover (surprise, surprise!) it no longer fit. A few snips of the scissors later—vintage, schmintage!—and I was ready to go.

Karen and our friend Estelle showed up at the house at 5PM. We debated the best route to take, knowing that traffic would be a nightmare as 55,000 concertgoers headed toward Dodger Stadium. Tim argued for the freeway, but I decided to take surface streets. An hour-and-a-half — and fifteen miles — later we pulled into the stadium. On impulse, we bought “preferred parking” ($35!), in the hopes we could easily slip down the hill after the show. Ha! I don’t know how long it took non-preferred folks to get out of there, but we were stuck in our car for an hour before moving even one inch.

The massive four-story stage was set-up in center field. A six-inch-thick plastic floor covered the grass and baseball diamond. My breath was quite literally taken away as we entered through the team bullpen and suddenly saw the inside of the stadium. So this is what it’s like to be a major league baseball player. Several women stood nearby rolling their eyes as their boyfriends slammed against the outfield wall, pretending to catch a fly ball.

Our seats (white folding chairs) were to the right of the stage, directly in front of an enormous set of speakers. The sound was so powerful I swear my hair moved with every beat. A band called FictionPlane was on stage. I had a vague memory that Sting’s son Joe Sumner was in the opening act, so we all jostled for the binoculars to see if he looked anything like his father. If more people knew Sting’s progeny was on stage, they probably would have been more respectful. As it was, everyone seemed more interested in buying beer and souvenirs than in listening to the band.

We sent Tim to scope out food options and restrooms. He excitedly reported back that he’d found a drinking fountain in the Dodger bullpen and then quickly volunteered to fill-up my empty water bottle. Who cares about concerts when there are baseball landmarks to explore?

Tim called his friend Nick to see if he’d gotten into the stadium yet. Nick said they were stuck on the 110 freeway and were not moving. The second opening act, the Foo Fighters, had emerged and were starting to play. I’ve been to many rock concerts in my life, but this was almost unbearably loud. I sat with my hands covering my ears while people, much younger than me, danced and cheered their way through the set. An hour later, a guy selling earplugs walked by, but it was too late—my hearing was already destroyed.

At 9:10PM, The Police finally took the stage with a rousing rendition of “Message in a Bottle,” one of my favorite songs. We stayed on our feet for the next two hours. Nick text-messaged Tim at 9:15PM to say they had just entered the stadium. Thank goodness we took surface streets instead of the freeway or we, too, would have missed the opening song.

Needless to say, the show was amazing and Sting looked fabulous! My only quibble was “Invisible Sun,” which was played against a backdrop of Iraq war footage. Although I appreciated the sentiment, the images really killed the mood as the concert nearly came to a screeching halt. But the crowd’s energy was soon buoyed again by more upbeat tunes. At one point, Sting turned the singing over to the audience as we all screamed out the lyrics to “Roxanne,” their first big hit. Surely people could hear our off-key voices for miles.

Three encores later, we were heading back to the car, despite the fact that I could barely move from all my jumping and dancing in place. I don’t know how Sting, who is two years older than me, keeps up the pace. Must be all that tantra yoga he’s famous for (by the way, did I mention how fabulous he looked?!)

Karen and I went antiquing late the next morning and, of course, deconstructed every minute of the concert. My ears had stopped ringing, but every muscle was sore. Could it be that I’m getting too old for rock ‘n roll? Nah . . . . As long as Sting and Paul McCartney and Neil Young and others continue to rock, so will I!

Long live The Police and rock ‘n roll!

6/25/07