Work, work, work…kids, kids, kids…finally my husband and I got to go out a bit with close friends to watch the Bridge School Benefit Concert last Sunday. (Thanks to our fantastic babysitter who was my daughter’s preschool teacher.) This is an all-acoustic, non-profit charity held every October Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View. The lineup list was impressive: Neil Young, Metallica, Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds, Willie Nelson, Norah Jones, Cage the Elephant, Nils Lofgren, and Roger Waters.
The place was packed, both expected and exciting as all the money would go to the charity. We arrived late and missed Neil Young. Cage the Elephant was new to me and I liked their songs and energy. Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” was always great to hum along, which I first heard when I was at college in China.
Norah Jones, though I like her, seemed a bit boring for this occasion. The location and the crowd with their beer, cigarettes and who-knows-what just weren’t right for her music.
Dave Matthews was wonderful but also predicable. When I first watched his show, I had been in the U.S. for fewer than 3 years, was working at Yahoo!. At that time, the company was the Wall Street’s darling and we, as employees, enjoyed perks, fancy parties and a lot of good food. One of the perks was free tickets to cool events. That was how one day I got to see Dave Matthews from the first row. Honestly, I didn’t know who he was and had to ask my American coworker, who seemed appalled by my ignorance.
As I was watching the show, I thought of Cui Jian, the father of Chinese rock. When I first listened to his music, I was not yet in college, and I was dreaming big and wild. With his guitar and hoarse voice, Cui Jian conquered me and my friends, physically and psychologically, making us stomp on the chairs and cry. He made us realize for the first time that we, the Chinese, could be freed from the burdens that our tumultuous history had inflicted on us. At the top of our lungs, with feigned melancholy, my friends and I sang “Nothing to My Name,” “A Piece of Red Cloth” and “Greenhouse girl.” We thought how true it was that the Party blinded us by covering our eyes with a piece of red cloth, pelting us with propaganda and forced political learning.
I still listen to Cui Jian from time to time, and am still moved by many of his songs, mostly old ones.
At the Sunday concert, when Willie Nelson was singing, four old men in front of me stood up and, with their hands on each other’s shoulders, they sang along and danced along, completely mesmerized. I watched them, and I, too, was happy, because of them, because of my memory.