Indigoing at City Stages

Saturday. Coffee. Sofa.

It is a classic Summer Saturday morning in North Alabama, already hot and humid, but not late enough in the day for clouds to form from the rising heat. The sky is pure blue and the rays of the sun are the only things with enough energy to do much of anything. Just right for a hot cup of coffee or two.

It was hot last night at City Stages. The asphalt and bricks of downtown Birmingham had absorbed the heat of the day and slowly, steadily released it among the thousands that roamed the streets, some practically running, some moseying, from one music venue to the next. Couples walked sweaty hand in sweaty hand. True love, or at least new love. Small groups of friends stood in imperfect circles, cold beverages in hand or pressed against the neck or forehead, talking of who knows what, but obviously content not to move on. Reunions were commonplace as familiar faces triggered recognition, at least of the face if not the name. Time to do the alphabet thing.

Topics of conversation were not the usual downtown fare. Where did you park? (okay, that could happen any day downtown). The quality of the funnel cakes. Can Styx still pull it off? What songs do I know by Plain White T's? How nasty are the portolets? How do you get in here? How do you get out of here? I'm sixty years old and you still want to see my i.d. How refreshing. How do people get to these churches on Sunday? Who is that playing now? How much fluid can one drink to remain properly hydrated in the heat without having to make a trip to the aforementioned portolet? Of course there were more personal conversations. But the good thing about loud, live music is that personal conversations can be had while standing among thousands and no one will hear, sometimes even the conversants. It requires a lot of eye contact.

Mainly I went to hear the Indigo Girls. When the Girls play, it is like a family reunion. Amy and Emily treat the audience like old friends, and the audience claims that relationship. The result is a living room or dorm-room sing-along to songs that have become the soundtracks of lives, the dream of every songwriter/performer. They play guitars, banjo and mandolin. The instrumental arrangements, like the vocal arrangements, are technically solid, lush in harmony, and often feature a rare ability for counter melody, a contemporary madrigal sound. But the girls are not stuck in a rut. Their library of original works range from raw rock to blues to high energy anthems to lilting ballads . Amy's edgy anger can bring blood, as in "Go," "Trouble", or "1.2,3", but there is always a balm for the wound in songs like "Closer to Fine", "Power of Two", or the new "I'll Change." They sing of love, social justice, the environment, but mostly of life's stories. Since the first CD release in 1987, the Indigos have exhibited staying power, a tribute to the attention they pay to their craft and the creative talent displayed in the formidable original library.

The crowd at the Legacy Stage at 10:00 p.m. was not huge, so it was easy to stand close to the stage along with a few hundred family members. For a few minutes the baggage of the past and future weeks was left unattended somewhere on the curb between the beer and funnel cake booths as we sang the old songs, listened to the new songs, and caught up with each other. Conversation was impossible over the music, but that was perfectly alright, as knowing smiles were passed among friends and strangers when the familiar chords foretold the blessing of the coming song. No need to talk. It is a healing thing. If you haven't heard the Indigo Girls, give them a listen. http://www.indigogirls.com/home.html

Then it was over. Way too soon. But they had to be dehydrated. I had a long, happy walk back to my car near the civic center. The parking lot was locked. My car was safe and sound inside. It was 12:45 a.m. But that is a different story.

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