Crazy Love

The photo above, my friends, is one taken by the ever-awesome The Other Renae, while standing mere metres (two at the most!) from Mr Michael Buble. I was standing right next to her uttering something along the lines of 'Oh my GOD! he's like right there! He's so close I can see the wrinkles in his pants! These are the best seats EVER!' Of course, it was less of an utter and more of an ever-rising scream of delight and excitement.
I'm still excited. See, two weekends ago now, we had front row tickets to Buble's Brisbane concert. Ok, so not just front row, front row....centre. It was, without doubt, the best concert I've ever been to - it even overshadows John Mayer...but only just. And purely because every second of the show was exactly that - a show, an event for the pure entertainment of the audience.
From the moment he stepped on the stage, Michael Buble had every person in the audience either wanting him, or wanting to be him - even the guys shuffling in, clearly dragged there by gaga girlfriends, were pretty quick to start tapping their feet and grooving along.
He took photos with the audience, introduced every member of his band (including the 16-strong brass section), and walked through the audience, performing a number of songs from as stage closer to the back so everone got to see him up-close-ish.
And then the finale. Oh my! During the last song - Song for You - the lights fell and a trumpet solo in the crowd cut back to a dark stage with a single spotlight. Buble stepped forward, hushing the crowd, and then...acapella into the 10,000 strong crowd. WOW! Seriously, WOW!
His band as well was amazing, especially the sax section - although I must admit a soft spot for a good sax solo. Oh, and did I mention the sloped stage which allowed him to walk all smoothly back to the drummer and then turn and slide - rock-star style - down towards the audience? So sexy...
So, enough gushing - pictures (all snapped by The Other Renae)!

Freefalling

Last night a gentleman took me to heaven. With his hands and mouth he comforted, caressed, and thrilled me for hours. The gentleman was John Mayer. And no, (sadly) I did not sleep with him.
My friend Vodka and I were lucky enough to score front row (!) tickets to his Brisbane Concert. I'm not sure who was more excited, although I would suggest she would be considered more of a die-hard fan - she could guess the song simply by seeing which guitar he picked up! That said by the end of the night I had rekindled my love affair with John (yes, we are on first name basis - he looked at me dammit!), and only wish he was playing again tonight.
Yes, the media have given him a grilling lately, and he may not have the glitz and showiness of say Pink but, putting that aside I would suggest he gives good gig. In fact, the best of gig. His fingers move across the guitar like he is caressing a woman, and (save a tragic drop at the end) Mr Mayer moves around the stage with such ownership of the moment you can't take your eyes from him. And then he sings. Wow. I've spent many an hour trying to come up with the words to aptly describe his voice but, truth to tell, it's impossible. There's a smoothness there that lulls and calms you, and yet an underlying raspiness that's all sex and badness. It's good and evil perfectly combined. It makes it easy to see why the girls love him.
Now of course this magic, while almost totally John-created, also comes in part from his fantastic band. They were brilliant! And I have to give a shoutout to Robbie simply because he looks so very much like one Harold Bishop from Ramsay Street (of Neighbours soap fame, for all you non Aussies and Brits).
We drove home, V and I, thoroughly exhausted and exquisitely content. Best. Night. Ever.
And now, some photo love courtesy of Miss V. He's a bit of a looker.