Yesterday, I made the unpleasant journey by road to Rotterdam to see Lisa Gerrard at the Schouwburg on the opening night of her latest European tour. It’s only about 75km to Rotterdam from here, but the traffic makes it feel like a lot more. Still, having a nice car with TV, music and arse-warming seats goes a long way towards numbing the pain.
We hadn’t managed to come up with someone who could perform the bedtime duties with Eloïse, so I went without Sarah and met up with my ex, Jo, to attend the gig.
Lisa played a good selection of old and new, including some unreleased material that will hopefully find its way onto a future release. The set had been rearranged, with a few new pieces added, since Lisa was last here in the spring (when she played in The Hague).
High points were Host Of The Seraphim, Sacrifice, Sanvean and the Michael Edwards rendered piano version of Dreams Made Flesh. Yes, I do prefer the older material, but I like the new stuff, too. Music is like wine and cheese, you see. It gets better as it gets older, because the listener no longer just hears a piece of music, but attaches memories and feelings to it over time. New music can never evoke the same feelings, but that new music will, of course, also start to age. That’s how it works for me, anyway.
After the concert, we went for a Greek meal just outside the Schouwburg. I was ravenous, as I’d had no dinner prior to she show.
The concert was so good that I risked Sarah’s wrath by purchasing a tour T-shirt. There’s a wife-imposed ban on T-shirt purchases in this household, because I have so many already, but I couldn’t resist having the wearable souvenir of this concert.
Sarah still hasn’t seen Lisa Gerrard perform live, but she’ll get her chance a couple of weeks from now, when we head down to Antwerp for an overnight trip with the in-laws. Sarah’s folks get the questionable honour of babysitting the smallest, most demanding member of the family, while her parents make merry to the dulcet tones of Lisa at the Koningin Elisabethzaal.
Speaking of Sarah’s folks, they turn up here Saturday morning.