How I found love at an air supply concert

            I went with some friends to see a concert featuring Air Supply, the duo of Graham Russell (songwriter and guitarist) and Russell Hitchcock (lead vocals).  Their music was  considered “pop” or “soft rock” back in their day, and they had a succession of hits worldwide, including eight top-ten hits in the U.S. in the late 1970s and early 1980s.  They have produced 17 albums of recorded music.  Air Supply has  been inducted into the Australian Recording Industry Association’s Hall of Fame (Hitchcock and Russell are Australian and English, respectively). 

            I expected to see some aged pop stars trying to hit the high notes like they used to, and maybe a couple of new, younger band members.  Mostly, I went for the nostalgia and the great songs.  Oh how I was surprised.

            It was Russell and Hitchcock, alright, but the rest of the band were all 20-somethings and tremendous musicians, all.  The drummer kicked a contemporary, more rock-like beat into all the songs without changing their essence.  And everyone contributed to the lush vocal harmonies that made the band famous to begin with.  This wasn’t nostalgia, though they played all the old songs.  This was fresh and new and everyone on stage was humbled to be there, appreciative of the audience, and having a blast.  I daresay these songs would be hits all over again if shopped today, just as they played them. 

            Russell Hitchcock’s vocal performance equaled that of his younger days.  He didn’t cheat on the high notes or get help from a younger singer.  About halfway into the concert, he took a short break and left the stage to Graham Russell, who announced a new song he was working on.  This is normally the saddest part of a nostalgic rock tour, when older musicians try desperately to remain relevant.  Usually, the new songs are just OK, not great, and not played with anything like gusto, as if the talent had peaked long ago and just fizzled out, and the band knows it.  But Graham Russell’s talent has only improved.

            He played and sang Is There Something Wrong With Me, a song from a musical he’s writing (though I did not know at the time that it was from a musical, nor that writing musicals is something he does—I even leaned over to my friend and whispered, “He needs to be on Broadway with this”).  Not only is it a great song, but he played it with so much love and passion, it brought me to tears.  I gave him a standing ovation.  I think others may have done the same, I’m not sure.  I was so wrapped up in the experience. 

            After that, I didn’t take my eyes off of Graham Russell.  I was in love. 

But I needed to know why.  What was this, infatuation with a pop star?  I didn’t think so.  I don’t fall like that.  I have been around the music business long enough not to believe the false fame image.  Plus, he’s, like, 70.  Am I just old?  That didn’t sound right, either.  It was definitely love, though.  It took me a couple of days to take an emotional inventory.  Why was this so profound?  What was the Universe trying to show me?  And you know what?

Graham Russell is still passionately in love with his songs.  He adores them, performs with such reverence, as if he still cannot believe the beauty of his creation.  I almost believe that if we, the audience, had not been present, he would have played the same way.  I’ve never seen such a thing, except maybe in my own private and most divine moments of songwriting.  And there it is.

Penny, you love your songs like that, my subconscious whispers.  I do.  I have not been allowing it to show.  I’ve been holding back.  I come away from the Air Supply concert with two goals:  1.  Add modulations (key changes) as often as I like, and 2. Don’t hold back on the love for my songs.  But there’s still more.

What if I were to love my clothes in the same way, simply adore them?  What if I were to love my body like that?  Maybe I wouldn’t put anything unhealthy in it.  What if I were to love the furniture around me and the rug beneath my feet?  What if I were to love the trees and grass in my yard?  What if I were to treat with awe and reverence, not just the people in my life, but every last thing, alive or inanimate? 

What kind of life do you suppose that would be?