It’s been ages since I last posted here, but if you’ve read any of my stories in the past, you know that I’m passionate about the arts and pop culture. In a college dance class, our instructor talked about the importance of non-dancers taking dance classes and developing an appreciation for the arts because we’re the ones who are going to support the arts, we’re the ones who are going to buy the tickets and donate to the companies and keep the whole thing going. That really impacted me.
I’m not a singer, can’t play an instrument and will not be center stage any time soon. Realizing those limitations, yet still fully embracing my love of the performing and visual arts, I’ve dedicated myself to passionately supporting the performers and performances that have touched and shaped my life. Even though I don’t completely buy in to the
High Fidelity theory that what you like is more important than what you’re like, I do believe that what you like does contribute to who you are as a person.
Who I am is a person who will cry at live performances, joyfully overwhelmed by the music, the story, the sets, the everything, and what it all means to me. This is exactly what happened Saturday night when I took my nine-year-old niece to see Gwen Stefani, my feelings for my girl and
my girl all intermingling and reducing me to an overly sentimental mess.
Gwen and No Doubt hit at the perfect time in my life. I was a college freshman in Orange County, hearing whispers about this local band that just might make good. The band did, more so than anyone could have imagined, and my generation had another girl to emulate and admire (and that was such an incredible time for admiration-worthy females). Though I could never pull off her crop tops and bleached locks, I was drawn to Gwen for her energy and sincerity. She gave us her all on CD and on stage, and I ate it up (and still do).
With No Doubt and as a solo artist, Gwen has used her music to work through her life’s challenges and triumphs—falling in love, getting her heart broken, growing older, finding success, fearing failure. Not that it’s all so serious, like all of my favorite artists, Gwen has managed to mix the light and the dark, the fluffy and the stark. She’s given us “Rich Girl” and “Don’t Speak,” “Simple Kind of Life” and “Hollaback Girl,” and I’m forever grateful.
The No Doubt and solo songs have been steady companions for over 20 years, making the fun times more joyous, making the hard times sting a little less, making me feel tougher when I’ve needed it most. “Settle Down” got me pumped for interviews when I was out of work. “Simple Kind of Life” helped that tenuous late 20s/early 30s time feel a little more normal.
This music has seen me through my twenties and thirties, job loss, boy loss, quarter-life crisis and so much more. It’s also been a bonding for my brother and I. He was there before I was. He nudged me harder toward No Doubt as the music was swirling all around. He took me to my first No Doubt concert and we’ve gone again and again and again. As a father, he’s made sure his kids have full access to his music library and is proudly raising kids with excellent taste and (unlike us) actual musical ability.
Taking all of this into account, how could I not tear up Saturday night when the first notes of “Underneath It All” began and my niece turned to me, her bright eyes shining with recognition, her smile joyously overtaking her face, the two of us springing from our seats so we could sing and dance along, both of us knowing the words by heart? Getting to be at The Forum (a room with so many great stories) with a girl who takes up so much of my heart, getting to share this music that’s been a presence in more than half of my life, getting to see her develop her own relationship with Gwen, knowing that I can do it again and again and again, as Gwen sang, “I’m really lucky, underneath it all.”
