You're supposed to be very young indeed for the wild jaunts along the lines of spending 13 hours on a bus just to see a rock concert. I decided that yesterday was my last chance to do it while, technically, in my twenties. (Or just over the line, since I was born at 6AM.)
And, well, it was Queen. QUEEN. I learned English from their lyrics, and Freddie Mercury was the first famous person over whose death I cried. And they've never done a concert in Poland. Ever. Until yesterday.
20 thousand-plus people in a giant stadium. 20 thousand-plus people knowing and loving and singing every line of every song. Brian May with THOSE guitars, 25 metres from me. Brian Fricking May, with endless solos and acoustic songs and I have no idea why his guitar didn't catch on fire. And Roger Taylor (assisted by his son as second drummer and how precious is that), and dear gods can he still sing.
And hey, Adam Lambert. Whom I've followed since American Idol, because you have to support upstart musical actors with delusions of grandeur. Who loves Queen as much as we all do, and you could tell. He wasn't trying to be
Freddie, the Departed God of our common religion; he was the priest of this ritual, guiding us and travelling with us for the songs where Brian and Roger were busy making instrumental magic. His voice broke during Show Must Go On, his breath catching just like mine did. I had a hunch he could do this justice.
This ranks in my top two of favourite birthdays ever, along with Yamaguchi von Krolock in Tokyo. I think spending my birthday out of town may get to be a Thing.Who Wants to Live ForeverShow Must Go On