You were not the same after that!

The summer concert season is once again upon us!! The hubbub of international travels, cool license plates, and summer weddings aside, two nights ago I was privy to one of the mega-concerts of the year, John Mayer with Ben Folds and James Morrison. My desire to attend was fueled mostly by Ben Folds (and my thrilling experience of last year) but I had to admit, throwing in an uber-pop star like John Mayer wouldn't hurt... at least I'd know his songs, if only by default.

It is a true testament of my age that I was relieved to see that we had nice, cushy seats and would be sitting for the concert duration. We were even in the first row of the second tier, so we could put our feet up like we were at a movie and thus add even more to my physical comfort. At one point during a particularly lovely John Mayer warble I admit I fell asleep... O, the days when I would force my physical way to the front of the crowd and jump and dance and scream for hours! No more. Call me a geezer but I will fork over a few more dollars for the cushioned seat, thank you.

Ben Folds, whilst fabulous as always, was disappointingly short... the highlight of his performance being an inadvertent piano stool blowout and James Morrison (purportedly) running onstage mid-song to put the cushion back on, push the stool under Ben, and pat his butt before running off again. Most of Ben's songs were older (read: I don't know anything not off of Rockin' the Suburbs) but his finale was a rousing rendition of the audience choir singing in three-part harmony for "Not the Same", culminating in his scaling the grand piano (with surprising agility) and conducting the audience with vivacity. I love Ben.

John graced us with his presence over an hour after Ben exited the stage, to the frenzied screams of the sold-out audience. He is, by definition, an incredibly talented musician, and has himself noted that he would rather compose and perform more 'edgy' material (like unto Eric Clapton) rather than the bubble-gum (tongue?) pop into which society has pigeon-holed him. His music was fantastically performed, his backup musicians incredibly talented, and even the most obnoxiously overplayed songs (think "Wonderland") were rendered musically edible. His performance of Gravity was one of the sexiest musical tidbits I have ever encountered.

One of the greatest amusements to we four old fogies was the four screaming, barely pubescent teenage girls behind us, who stood and danced and cried with excitement the entire time John was onstage. While it was funny to us who were watching, I must say that I myself was exactly the same way at their age. Perhaps I was never reduced to uncontrollable sobs (though hearing Guster perform Either Way at Bricks in 2000 perhaps brought a bright sheen to my eye) but I've definitely had my fair share of screaming teenage thrills. Case in point: Boyz II Men. 1996. Second row center. Oh. Yeah.

So. Let's take another trip down nostalgia lane, and tell me: who reduced you to tears of joy, or manly grunts of musical excitement, when you were 16 years old?? It doesn't have to be pop; this isn't VH1's I love the 90's. I just want to know who you loved when you were in 11th grade...