Home Song

Who's never left home / Who's never struck out / to find a dream and a life of their own / a place in the clouds, a foundation of stone ~Dixie Chicks - Wide Open Spaces

I feel like if I had seen the Bela Fleck: The Africa Project tour last year or even early last semester, I might not be moving to Memphis this summer.

Let me explain.

Yesterday, I road-tripped to Penn State to see said tour at Eisenhower, a show for which I purchased a ticket last May; if that sentence alone doesn't give you an idea of how much I wanted to see this performance, I will add that I had a front-row ticket. The very first song, played by thumb pianist Anania Ngoliga and guitarist John Kitime, was partly in an African language (they are from Tanzania), but there was also a chorus - in English - that went something like, "You can go north / you can go east / you can go south / you can go west / but home is best, home is best." Maybe you can see where I'm going with this.

There was another song later in the concert that had something similar in content, like "I want to go home." I couldn't get Rumi's line, which I've quoted before here, "All language is a longing for home," out of my head. The universality of "longing for home" really hit me as I watched these African musicians, thousands of miles from their homes, playing instruments I'd never seen before, singing words I couldn't understand - all while their music conveyed emotions plainly recognizable to anyone who's ever been away from home. And there was a part of me, then, that identified with - and was touched by - these songs and thought, I don't want to go to Memphis; I want to go home.

It's ridiculous, caught-up-in-the-moment thinking, of course, because, in the light of day, accompanied by only the hum of the fan in my office or the silence of my apartment... or basically any noises that weren't produced in Eisenhower Auditorium from 7:30 - 10:15 p.m. yesterday (yes, the show was a wholly excellent 2.5+ hours), I do want to spread my wings, and I do want to go south. But maybe, just maybe, if I had heard these songs earlier, if I had thought these thoughts earlier, I would have made Newark, New York, and the Mid-Atlantic region my top choices for TFA rather than Memphis and Nashville. (Sorry, Mom.)

Tangentially related: the show also made me wonder about whether other cultures have such things as encores. Like when these African musicians first were going to perform in front of a crowd of another culture that participates in encore forcing, did someone have to explain to them what it meant when the audience didn't leave and kept clapping and cheering?

It's been a really good month already for concerts. Monday night, I went to see IKE at Tom's recommendation, and I really liked them. (Bought their CD, in fact, and it was one of the many that kept me sane on the dull drives to and from Penn State. On this trip, I also rediscovered my love of the Dixie Chicks, who provide this post's fitting quote above.) And, on the horizon: Mat Kearney & Ingrid Michaelson with Jennie @ Croc Rock! Brings back memories of seeing Gavin DeGraw there with her and Stacy (my first concert!) way back in 2005. I distinctly recall getting my mom to agree to let me go: this was the year she was in Idaho, and I think she was feeling a little guilty over it, so over Christmas break, she said, very reluctantly, "Okay... you can go... have fun with your friends..." And look, now I'm going to shows left and right [with only implicit permission]. You know, despite feeling old sometimes, there's something to be said about growing up.