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Columns > Note for Note - Holly Isbister

Published: 2005/07/07
by Holly Isbister


Ok, now I know I yelled at all y’all in my first bit about only paying attention to the music when you’re at a show, and being a bad hippie and all that (and if you’re confused about what I’m referring to, go here) but the only potential threat to my otherwise entirely undivided attention at a festival is the, albeit small, potential for dancing with a likeminded male. To his credit, it takes a lot to rip my eyes from a fantastic performance, but tear me away he did.
I don’t know if it was my musky "I’ve been sleeping in a tent" smell, my matted hair, or my mud-caked feet, but for whatever reason, I had the good fortune of meeting a bright, handsome man to dance with. And before you go trying to guess what’s hotter than smooching by a Porto-pottie, let me simply say that just having someone to dance with was a hoot.
I know I can’t be alone here. How many of you guys got your love on at Bonnaroo? I mean, it’s the ultimate utopia – all your friends are there, the scenery is phenomenal, there’s umpteen million things to go see and do, and more than anything, you’ve got a soundtrack to your budding romance. I can’t imagine a better place to first meet and get to know a potential future mate. In fact, I could even envision a "Bonnaroo Singletons" tent brought to you by for next year’s festivities. You’re already completely blissed-out on the music, adding someone to share it with is just a bonus prize.
One of the things I love about a concert is knowing that you share your adoration for the music being created with 500, 10,000 or even 100,000 fans. That’s a lot of love, buddy. Listening to a show is one of the few places that you can be entirely alone and entirely connected to everyone at the same time. Likewise, it’s one of the few times in a relationship that you get to be alone, together. And if you’re dancing with someone as compelling as the music, that’s even better. It was for me anyhow, as Sunday was by far my favorite day of the festival. With Umphrey’s McGee and My Morning Jacket (that version of "Golden" nearly brought a tear to my eye), The Word and Widespread Panic with Herbie Hancock sitting in, Sunday was one hell of a day to take in Bonnaroo’s incredible music.
For some people it is impossible to imagine ever dating someone who doesn’t adore music in the way that they adore it. I have actually ended dates because of this. The tapestry of your soul, the lanyard of your being, is woven with bits of lyrics, vocals, jams, and chord progressions that make your head tingle and your heart ache. If your relationship to music is this close, how could anyone possibly understand you unless they understand those songs? They can’t. But regardless of whether you were with someone or on your own at this year’s Bonnaroo, all the joy you ever needed to find was at your fingertips, listening to great music and having a great time. I leave you with the immortal words of Miss Penny Lane, "Never take it seriously. If you never take it seriously, you never get hurt. If you never get hurt, you always have fun. And if you ever get lonely, you just go to the record store and visit your friends."

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