when i was in high school i was a hippie--not the protesting, fighting for what what you believe in, burning your bra kind of hippie--no, i was the 90's version, which meant i had an inexplicable affinity for all things corduroy, wore my birkenstocks a few too many weeks past summer, and really loved the band phish. i went to several of their concerts between the years 1994-1998 and have pretty good memories of dancing with friends on grassy concert lawns and munching on "phatty" burritos in parking lots afterwards. (i'm pretty sure burritos were the actual currency used by the people following phish on tour.) one thing i remember well about those shows was entering the gates of any of the concerts and passing by a group of (far dirtier than i) hippies begging you to "miracle" them. "getting miracled" was a term invented by phish fans used to describe the experience of getting a free ticket to one of their shows. it was a rare occurrence, but a mutual moment of ecstatic giving and receiving that would stay etched into the few remaining brain cells that hippie would have forever and ever.
fortunately, my days of jam bands and edible hemp clothing are long gone, but on thanksgiving eve a turn of events occurred that i can only describe as getting "double miracled."
the evening started off with comp tickets to after miss julie on broadway (miracle #1). my boyfriend and i have a friend who is understudying sienna miller, so we were lucky enough to see this interpretation of strindberg's classic on the great white way. i had heard some poor reviews so i didn't have high expectations, but was happily surprised. i didn't find huge differences in the script other than this version is set in 1945 london and the text is much more contemporary than strindberg's swedish play written in 1888. miss julie remained impossibly neurotic as ever, her implied suicide (i know, spoiler) at the end was still baffling to me, and that part where they kill the bird was just as disturbing. you think your relationship is dysfunctional--read miss julie or go see this play and you'll be feeling as wholesome as the brady's in no time. still, there is undeniable chemistry and sexual tension between sienna miller's julie and jonny lee miller's john that is as engrossing as it uncomfortable to watch. i thought all the actors did an excellent job crafting their equally schizophrenic characters and the 90 minute version makes for a tightly wound extended vignette of pure calamity.
after the show we went to a nearby bar for drinks with friends to discuss the play and enjoy the fact we didn't have to wake up for work the next morning because of thanksgiving. after being there for a little while we noticed that the bar had filled up with a group of cool looking, well-dressed, middle-aged folks. someone in our circle got wind that the party was actually legendary rock band, the pixies and their entourage. i had spent many a night in college rocking out to surfer rosa, and my boyfriend, mark, is a super-fan. somehow the two of us found ourselves excitedly chatting with the pixies manager and for some reason (possibly to end the conversation with two very wide-eyed youngsters or maybe just moved by the spirit of the holidays) he pulled out a stack of tickets to their 1 am show and handed us two. for free. he totally miracled us.
a few hours later mark and i found ourselves in the side box of the hammerstein ballroom looking down on hundred of fans pushing to get closer while we enjoyed the comfort of actual seats and the space to stretch out. the concert was fantastic. the pixies were celebrating the twentieth anniversary of their album doolittle, and they played the whole album in full, in order. frank black, who is no longer a young man, has managed to preserve one of the most musically flexible voices i have ever heard and remains remarkably on key even when he is delivering one of his trademark wails. kim deal, who i worshipped in the breeders even before i knew the pixies were a band, grounded the show with her husky back-up vocals and signature bass lines. the pixies, who are far more energetic than i am at 3 am, played several encores but finished the show with my one of my personal college anthems, where is my mind, which was the best concert finale ever.
exhausted but giddy, mark and i wandered towards the subway on sixth avenue and found ourselves face to face with one of the marching bands rehearsing for that morning's macy's parade. as we stood in the center of herald square and watched, i think we were both thinking how lucky we are to live in this city. i have to say it was a perfect night. happy thanksgiving--we give thanks for you, new york.
a few hours later mark and i found ourselves in the side box of the hammerstein ballroom looking down on hundred of fans pushing to get closer while we enjoyed the comfort of actual seats and the space to stretch out. the concert was fantastic. the pixies were celebrating the twentieth anniversary of their album doolittle, and they played the whole album in full, in order. frank black, who is no longer a young man, has managed to preserve one of the most musically flexible voices i have ever heard and remains remarkably on key even when he is delivering one of his trademark wails. kim deal, who i worshipped in the breeders even before i knew the pixies were a band, grounded the show with her husky back-up vocals and signature bass lines. the pixies, who are far more energetic than i am at 3 am, played several encores but finished the show with my one of my personal college anthems, where is my mind, which was the best concert finale ever.
exhausted but giddy, mark and i wandered towards the subway on sixth avenue and found ourselves face to face with one of the marching bands rehearsing for that morning's macy's parade. as we stood in the center of herald square and watched, i think we were both thinking how lucky we are to live in this city. i have to say it was a perfect night. happy thanksgiving--we give thanks for you, new york.
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