An Evening with Josh Groban

The arena is filling up, we're all giving our watches or phone clocks glimpses in between two second intervals, we look to the stage, find nothing there and then exhale the anticipation.

For a split second I let my thoughts wander, so when the lights drew dim and the crowd in some parts of the Superbowl started cheering and chanting, I was still lost to another place - then I saw him stroll across the stage, passing his band and orchestra and taking a seat at the piano.  He didn't even give me a chance to gain my composure, and he began to sing his heart away.

Josh Groban has engraved his mark, I will probably for a long time coming associate the 27th November with his concert.  It was spectacular in a way that exceeded all my expectations.  I really don't want to use superfluous adjectives and expressions to describe it.  But I will say that when he mentioned that it wouldn't take him another five years to come to South Africa to perform for us again, I instantly knew that I would do it all over again.

The thing about him that made everything all the more endearing and sentimental was how well he incorporated us, the audience, into his show.  He appeared nothing less than natural and almost had us fooled that we all knew each other on a personal level.  He is witty and has a charming sense of humour about him, when he wasn't singing we were laughing.  Yeah, he had the ladies wrapped firmly around his little finger.  We didn't mind that position either.

The songs that stood out for me through the late afternoon/early evening, what-have-you hours, were You Are Loved (Don't Give Up) from the Awake album and Higher Window from the Illuminations compilation.  Oh, and Alejate, it had the room reverberating.  Now, that is not to say his other offerings fell short - the show was thoroughly amazing and every song he performed stood stellar in its own right.  Lullaby and Weeping performed with the Soweto Gospel Choir impressed the South African audience, naturally.  February Song and Mi Mancherai were standouts too, and I have to add You Raise Me Up - it was the sing-a-long song, after all.

The short narrations in between his songs are really something you had to be there for to have experienced and to have established that connection he has with his music and to live it with him.  I had many overwhelming goosebumps moments,  and I tried videotaping bits and pieces, here and there, of poor quality via my smartphone (which I'm afraid to post here without any rights).  So those are the crumbs of memories I'd have taken with me from the concert.

According to him, a fan from the previous night's concert was a little "angry with him" for not performing Vincent, so thanks to her, we were the lucky bunch graced with that performance, which was b-e-a-u-tiful.  Broken Vow grabbed hold of everyone's breath too, and you could hear the collective sighs at the end of that last note.  It was sublime.  A surprise for me was how much I enjoyed Machine, a song I almost never listen to.  He did a solo drum set piece, accompanied by his percussionist, now that was hot!  You could almost hear the droplets of sexy hitting the stage floor as he oozed such appeal, it was that palpable. It was an enticing variation from his sitting at the piano, that's for sure.

He ended the evening with two encore pieces (Yay! again for us,) Smile was the finisher - we bid our farewells, exchanged some love and Josh's time with us was over.  Bittersweet.  Sweet, that I would never forget the experience, bitter because it felt like it ended too soon - but how could I hold on to that feeling, when his parting lyrics soothed me with, 'Light up your face with gladness/ Hide every trace of sadness.'

Well, xthank you (that's how he said 'thank you' to us in Xhosa.... Oh, the laughs!) Josh Groban, for an amazing show.

Writing poetry

I write poetry, I've mentioned this before.  I have been writing since that moment when it dawned upon me that certain words put together form structures that sound lyrical.  I also learned, that by putting into the words the feelings I felt and I held onto that.  I must have been a decade old or so when I first started, I'd write to my family, put them in letters to my friends - those are the ways I continued to nurture this art.  Some years I'd write less than others, but anyways this is not about then.  I'd like to share with you what I did this morning.  It's roughly written, but that's what I want to show to you, my unpolished thoughts.

Here goes, it is quite long so I'll only be posting bits and pieces of it, the ellipses indicates the omitted parts.  I'll post the whole things once I've cleaned it up:

There comes a time

When you dust away the old for the novel

The old truths

In your back pocket

You sit upon them in deserted places

Where in dark alleys aged men greet you

They were never married

( ... )

And the wisdom you've picked up along the road

Cradled them in your arms

Like gathering leaves after autumn’s fall

You place them in between pages and close the book

For the next generation to find the golden promise

There comes a time

When everything you imagined important

Has slowly dissipated and dispersed into nothingness

You’re searching for it but your memory holds no recollection

( ... )

There comes a time

When you want to sweep across the horizons

And breathe in the goodness of the river’s mist

And to catch the fragrance of the rotten flowers in your throat

Where you speak of blossoming into whatever life purposed you to

You want to swing in the open air where rain travels

 And the winds dance their way to and fro

( ... )

You have taken the decision to cease the trite

And pursue the more urgent and the apt

You take scripts from the predecessor’s mistakes

And note them down to remind yourself –

And to push yourself relentlessly because you are capable

There comes a time

( ... )

 There comes a time

When your feet are sore and they are bruised

From worthless heartaches and meaningless lessons in love

You’re tired from being out of breath

Chasing him to assure you

That tomorrow he’ll come by again

To validate to you about a love that will sustain you

You’ve pushed through the pebbled roads

And dusty fields as he keeps moving ahead

You’ve chased him down and he still wouldn’t stand for you

You make lists out of excuses that excuses him of his mistreating you

Trying to convince everybody else that he’s not that bad a guy

Even though you’re tired of telling yourself the same silly lie

( ... )

the rock at your gate

Put there by a kid, innocent and explorative, destined to one day too

Reach the wisdom you’re at now

He will learn too that happiness cannot be planted in somebody else’s garden

That the seed is within and only he can nurture its potential

There will come a time ...

© Lucinda de Leeuw 2011

"What if nothing exists and we’re all in somebody’s dream?"
—
Woody Allen

Strange.  I always think this -- we are insignificant manifestations in a vast universe.  A universe that could easily belong to a dream of some person somewhere far and away.  We are dust, we are ash, but we are also the greatest determinants of energy.  Energies that go on infinitely and energies that sustains, and creates life.
I am always seeking the answers or at the very least plausible explanations, nothing really ever suffices but to know a little more keeps my belly, temporarily, warm.

I am November's child

And even though I’m not for getting over-excited for my birthday, I do hold the month and day very dear.  I feel that November children are a different kind of special and that sentimentality runs deep, therefore, I will pen a piece of poetry in honour of us all.  Hopefully, I won’t procrastinate it until November’s over.

And, for more splendour in November, I’ll be seeing Josh Groban live the 27th, I can hardly breathe from all the anticipation.