So we attended the Nickel Creek concert last night in Mesa. Are you people aware of the brilliant young people that form Nickel Creek? The band is made up of three wunderkinds (they're regular aged adults now, but they formed the band twenty five years ago, when their mandolinist, Chris Thile was about nine. That's right, NINE. And the other two members of the band, siblings Sara and Sean Watkins are even younger. So Nickel Creek, a progressive bluegrass band, was originally made up of wunderkinds who are now just skilled musical artists. Chris is actually a virtuoso. If you haven't heard their music, do yourself a favor and YouTube a live performance. Even if their sound isn't up your alley stylistically, you can't deny their musicianship.
This is how excited we all get about things like this:
When I saw this photo, I said, "Wow, we look like literal crazy people." But I kind of love that. I love a lot of things when I'm an environment like that. I love human accomplishment. I love my ability to appreciate art and music. I love the associations with my favorite people more than usual.
The thing I love most about seeing performances like the one last night -- these people aren't just comfortable with their instruments and with each other, they are soooo comfortable on stage, so comfortable sharing their skills with us, and so well-rehearsed that their work transcends the instruments, the individual voices, the space in which they perform, and becomes something otherworldly. It's as if through their music, they communicate soul to soul with members of the audience. I told Tyler, "I admire creatives who can share their work and touch others, but sometimes as you're sitting in an audience you realize that this is something special."
It reminded me of Savion Glover, who seemed almost like a conduit for pure creative energy, untainted by any small or mean emotion or intention. A pure generous offering given in complete confidence that someone will get it. Someone will understand. I get the feeling that a show for a single person would be just as full of verve and soul. Reaching just one person would be okay, because that higher connection would be made.
It was unforgettable and sublime.
I finished Ready Player One by Ernest Cline again last night. The geektastic MMORPG ode to the 80's freaking DEBUT novel Cline crafted is still a glittering feat of imagination. And I mean epic glitter, like a Bedazzled denim jacket. Crafted with confidence that someone will get it. And now I'm reading Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson, and the creative fearlessness of this stunning cyberpunk tale is breathtaking.
All these things remind me to be open, be fearless, be confident. Only one person can create what's in my head and share it with the world. If I don't do it, who will? And someone out there is waiting to make that connection. I have to move forward, unafraid and be the only one who can share my ideas, cuz there's no one else who can do me better than me.