the rock concert

Last week I went to a rock concert. I’ll start at the beginning – Wednesday, I took a free tour (in Spanish) of the Teatro Solis, a very famous and important and old theatre in Montevideo, a city known for such. I was paying close attention and doing pretty not bad, until I caught a glimpse of a boy (yes, cute) taking a private tour in English. It became increasingly difficult to listen to my tour guide and when I’m not concentrating, Spanish may as well be Arabic. It was all I could do to spy on him and his English-speaking tour guide and bask in the feeling of complete understanding of my own language.

I spent the rest of my tour keeping tabs on the blue-eyed boy’s whereabouts and thinking about what my opening line was going to be. Afterwards, I did my best stalker impression by chasing him down Plaza Independencia. A little short of breath, I smiled and asked him how he was able to swing a private tour in English while I was lost in a group of 30 Uruguayos.

And oh my god what happened next was absolutely incredible. With this person I’d never met, I had the most intelligent, comprehensive and fulfilling conversation of my week. To go back to a language that I am so comfortable with, that allows me to express myself on a far deeper level and that which I am infinitely familiar was deeply satisfying. And that was before we even got to – what are you doing here?

Kevin, who was in Montevideo for a very short time, was trying to do as much as possible and was headed to another theatre to see if there was anything going on that night. I went with him. The show? La musica de rock. Perfect. I invited myself along.

Later that night, we met up and together encountered the strangest cultural experience of my time in here so far. Enter – rock band of skinny Uruguayos, front man who looks straight out of an 80s hair band, two less-than-enthusiastic female back-up singers and the creepiest bare-chested bass player complete with goofy smile and red mustache (who kind of reminded me of Dave Allen). In Kevin’s words, if we weren’t in Uruguay, this band could have easily been from Alabama. They sang solely in English. They covered The Animals.

I was speechless, but it got even better. Enter main act – Silverados. In English, again. This time, skinny, sexy front man with perfect hair and sunglasses. Guy in pink furry jacket (no shirt) rolling around on the floor, guy wearing a “Jack Fucking Daniels” t-shirt who didn’t move once, guy dressed like a feather-duster. And that singer – kind of like an Adrian Grenier type and totally full of himself. I guess that’s kind of a necessary quality in lead singers, but he was clearly pretty pleased with himself, lifting the mic stand, screaming and leaving the stage to touch people in the audience. And it was quite the audience – grandmothers, babies and little groupies alike sitting in theatre-style seats.

Kevin didn’t care for the vocals, but said the guitarists were pretty talented. It wasn’t really my kind of music, plus I couldn’t get past the bizarre nature of the whole thing. Hands down though, definitely worth the 6 bucks.

After the show, Kevin (bless his heart) had a couple of beers with me. I could have kissed him. I didn’t. He left today, playing a very small role in my grand adventure, but leaving an indelible mark, nonetheless.

Photo rising, Kevin's just taking his sweet time on that...