Ooooh, I hope that the controversial title roped you in. Accurate as it is to the situation that I am about to discuss, it was really just meant to get you to click over so that you, too, can share in the awesomeness that was Friday night.
What was Friday night, you might ask...? Only the most exhilarating out-of-body experience ever.
Oh, and also the third installment of Provo's Rooftop Concert Series. The main attraction was The Abbey Road Show, wherein a bunch of local and local-ish artists got together and recreated the entire Abbey Road album from start to finish (including the extra, bonus "Her Majesty").
If you are not already thinking that this was the raddest idea ever, you might as well just stop reading now.
Still reading? Okay, then. I'm about to get super intense.
Have you ever seen videos and pictures of women going c.r.a.z.y. over The Beatles? You know, crying and screaming and trying to rip pieces of their (The Beatles', not the women's) clothing off as they passed by? No? Here are a couple of examples:
Listen, I never quite understood. Really. I would see these pictures and think I am so glad that I am not one of those girls who can be so taken with... I don't even know what. These are just ordinary men. So, you know, not only was I ignorant, but also a twinge judgmental.
I am here to report that I have a newfound understanding. Hard. Core. From the very first notes of "Come Together," I heard these squeals of girlish excitement. And then I realized that they were coming from ME. Not only were they visceral and uncontrollable, but they emanated from my gut and were equal parts sexual tension and hints of my eighth-grade-self that didn't quite know how to be in the presence of a Y-chromosome yet. It was clear that this was going to be a problem, as I was on a date. A first date.
And then, the raddest teddy bear of a man ever got on stage and sang "Oh! Darling," and I kid you not, blog-dom, I actually considered taking my bra off and throwing it on stage. (And then I remembered that time in high school when my mom walked in on me and my friends watching a movie wearing my bra on her head like a kippah
* and I thought I best not.)
Heavy. Freakin'. Sigh.
How did this happen? I don't know. I really have no answer for you (or for me).
But I will say this: take a look at these pictures** and see for yourself if you still don't get how absolutely amazing this concert was (and how foxy the men were).
**These fabulous pictures are courtesy of my new friend Tim Schwarz.
