On Sunday night or was it Monday? I had the opportunity to accompany my boyfriend to the Ray La Montagne show at the Troubadour. "Who?" I asked him. "Dunno, but it's sold out and supposed to be amazing, and I got free tickets" he replied. And free tickets are free tickets, so I agreed to go, sight unseen, or whatever that expression translates to when referring to hearing. Song unheard? Whatever. My first indication that people really dug this guy was the chick who approached me as I was walking up to the venue to ask me if I had an extra ticket offering me double the face value. Turns out folks were willing to pay upwards of 100 bucks for a 25 dollar ticket. Crazy. That really piqued my interest and also made me feel pretty lucky for the freebie. Who was this guy to command such a mark-up?
Welp. I found out in the first two minutes. He reminded me of a 70s era Cat Stevens a bit, intensely lyrical. Or an introverted James Taylor. The songs were all like lullaby tales of love and longing, you know, exactly what you'd expect when you see a singer songwriter with an acoustic guitar. In between songs you could hear a pin drop. The audience hung on every word, had there been any words, in-between song banter is not La Montagne's thing. But he was so revered by the crowd, he could give Jesus a run for his crucifix. People shushed even someone's involuntary cough.
The place was wall to wall couples, all vertically spooning, and nuzzling, and kissing. My boyfriend kept a hand on me, but when he attempted a reach around embrace, it made us both laugh, given the sappy love we were already drowning in, so we headed upstairs for a scotch and vodka.
It was there I saw Morpheus. Sitting above the crowd in the reserved side mezzanine was a tall Laurence Fishbourne. I only briefly made eye contact, my passing had apparently disturbed his rapture.
My boyfriend and I nabbed a comfy couch in the VIP room and listened to the music, heads drooping with fatigue. Until two LOUD and very drunk lesbians (I know they were lesbians cause they kept talking really loud about how they were REAL lesbians as they made out on the couch next to us) squealed, not kidding squealed so loud my heart jumped. "OH MY GOD YOU'RE MORPHEUS! I LOVE THE MATRIX!" We turned to catch the less fat one accosting the actor who had come up to use the restroom. He seemed more embarrassed for being the impetus for the gaping hole in the sanctity of the performance, than for any celebrity stalker moment. He quietly smiled and hurried back to his spot. But the ladies couldn't let it alone, they kept going on and on, yelling "CAN YOU BELIEVE? Morpheus!!" Then they grabbed their over sized handbags and went to chase the poor man. With them gone we nestle back into our seats, and went back to sleep. Not bad for a free Sunday. Or was it Monday?
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