All alive and brand new

"You know when Matt goes up to that high note at the end of 'I Saw'? The 'I swea-AH-AAAR'? Whenever I'm in my car. listening to live versions of that song, I crank it loud so I can belt out that note at the top of my lungs. Every single time. So when I'm seeing him live, I'm right there in that moment, shout-singing that note. I forget that other people are there and I wait for it every single time." - In the car, 10.24

I kind of forget that Matt Nathanson can be a rockstar.

Don't get me wrong. He should be one. He certainly deserves to be one. As far as I'm concerned, he is one.

But my version of "rockstar" pertains more to devout underground followings than a fancy light show. My rockstars are dorks more often than badass.

We scampered from the car to the front door of the venue, hurried along by the only-slightly muffled sound of "Sad Songs" audible from out back. A quick run inside, presentation of ID and a stroll through the doors into bliss.

Brightly lit, pulsing neon, Matt before a packed house of fans kind of bliss.

It took me a moment to adjust.

Matt is a rocker.

He then proceeded to play the dork. He elicted lighter waves with a full-length cover of "Don't Stop Believing" that brought singalong shrieks of delight from the typically undercover Journey fans. A "new" song (new, perhaps, to those on hand for Carbon Leaf's panflute rock) was prefaced with the interpretive reading of a romance novel cover; Matt requested that the band bust out "something porny" to back up his saucy reading voice, and it lustily obliged. Three words: I have video.

But the songs were tight as ever. The crowd loved him. And I found myself staring at the stage with that expression reserved specifically for Matt*: eyes wide to take it all in, jaw slightly dropped for both laughter and the sense of awe that washes over me at each of his shows.

By the time he approached the end of "I Saw," I was ready for it.

And I saw pictures in my head
And I swea--AAH-AAAR
I would be heavenly if baby you'd just rescue me now...
I saw pictures in my head of you...

My voice, drowned out by the sound of the rockstar's.

*Adding, of course, to the list of V Facial Expressions That Only Appear For Certain People.

The bodyguard

I'd joked that I was the bodyguard.

By the time I realized his post-show spot would be directly in front of where I had stood for most of the evening, I hadn't many relocation options. The crowd swarmed around him on all sides, save mine. I was comfortable in my spot, neither he nor his manager seemed to mind and I was available if either of my friends working merch needed assistance. So I leaned back against the wall and folded my arms. I laughed over to L about the responsibility I had decided to assume and then worked on looking tough.

It offered a fascinating view. From his perspective.

I watched as giddy faces took on new expressions as he turned to them. Some coolly nonchalant, others unabashedly giddy. There were a few that flickered between demeanors as their owners tried to settle on one particular approach. Almost every set of eyes widened significantly during the initial exchange of greetings.

It was overwhelming, the number of shining faces and blinding smiles that spread out before him (and me). I thought of riding in the backseat of my parents' car as a youngster, staring ahead at the nighttime road. I could never understand how my mother or father could tune out the line of painfully bright headlights well enough to keep the car on the road. I always had to blink or close my eyes entirely. It was too much - far too bright.

I leaned my head against the wall as I watched the greetings. Some offer a simple hello before extending a CD case, ticket or bookmark. More outgoing individuals mentioned previous shows or cities, where there had been another exchange of mutual admiration or photo opportunity.

And that was what struck me most about the display before me. Mutual admiration. It truly seemed as if he wanted to be sure to thank them for coming, just as they wanted to thank him for putting on a show. He sought out names if they weren't offered, and he found ways to tough a shoulder or elbow. Camera mugs involved hugging. He laughed, he joked, he showered each with a special moment of undivided attention before one more thank you before a turn of the spotlight onto the next person.

I had my own copy of the album in my bag - same as I'd had it earlier in the day at the instore - and could have asked for a similar turn with silver marker. But there was no reason for me to. I'm not an autograph seeker (unless we're talking about something where it's funny or exciting for the person signing), and I liked standing where I was. I had no desire to go onto the other side of the exchange. I'd been surprised into saying a hello and making an introduction earlier. And I found that expereince preferrable to this.

Although as I watched him, I did feel an impulse to hug him, thanking him for never ceasing to amaze me.

But I was the self-proclaimed bodyguard - and hugs aren't tough. I kept my arms folded instead.