I try to put out a post early each day. But I was up WAY past my bedtime last night, and no where near home, so I apologize for the lateness of this post.
Last night I was thrilled to be a member of the audience at Barbra Streisand’s Concert in Philadelphia.
It was awesome. She is awesome. When Barbra strings together those long, stunning, belting notes (like “I’ve come home at last” from Sunset Blvd) …. nothing, no one can beat it.
What can I say? Chills.
So how do I tie this to tech?
The tech message on the tickets was very clear with “No Cameras / Video / Recorders” printed across the front. Almost any concert you go to these days includes such a message.
I overheard many nervous conversations outside of the Wells Fargo Center where people were wondering, “What about my cell phone? Does it count? It takes pictures and video…..”
I brought mine with me. If there was a photo to be had, I wanted to be ready to capture the memory. I figured the worst case scenario would mean that I would have to take the phone back to the car.
But no such trouble. Tickets were scanned and no one asked or cared about cell phones.
(There is another subject that could be explored, about whether or not photos/videos should be allowed at concerts, and how on earth they can be stopped as our gadgets improve…. but that is a subject for another day.)
So, settled into my seat, I thought I’d try to sneak a picture or two. If there is safety in numbers, I was golden. Everywhere I looked, people were holding up their phones.
However, I wasn’t too hopeful. I have tried to take photos at concerts, before, and when you couple the low light with the distance involved, the results are dismal.
I wasn’t alone with that revelation. As the show went on, the cell phones gradually disappeared, (except for those who were calling friends and family and leaving the line open so that they could “hear” from home. )
I have seen a fair amount of YouTube videos that people have taken at concerts. I’ve seen good, pretty good, and horrible. Mine were at the horrible level, but I guess it all depends on your seat and the lighting.
So I’ll keep my blurry photos as a memory for me, but they are pitiful and not anything I can share with pride.
But each blur holds a wonderful memory. They’re gorgeous to me.
I’ll forever look at each and say, (I’m sorry, I can’t resist) “Hello, Gorgeous”