So reading this post this morning by Johnny Virgil about how he’s going to burn in Music Hell after going to a Richard Marx concert (and oh, actually recording it too), I was reminded of…
That Time I Took My College Roommate To See Kenneth Gorelick (Kenny G)
It was the summer of 1990.
I was in between my junior and senior years in college and in love with a blonde-haired poetess named Amy (most of my college infatuations were either blonde-haired or poetesses or both). Keeping with the poetry theme, Amy lived in the alliterative Allentown.
That summer at The Great Allentown Fair, one of the grandstand performers was Kenneth Gorelick, better known to the world as Kenny G, along with Alabama (who were there every year from 1984 to 1990 except 1986 for some strange reason, hmmm), Michael Bolton (the real no talent ass clown himself born Michael Bolotin), Bobby Brown, Chicago and Barbara Mandrell (fill in your own witty parenthetical remarks for the last three).
Kenny, if you remember, was riding high on the success of his Kenny G Live Album. If you don’t remember, let me refresh your memory from one of the songs (if you make it through the entire thing, God– truly– bless you):
My wife says Kenny G reminds her of two things: airport terminals and pelvic exams. While I, um, can’t relate to the pelvic exams comment, I can understand the airport terminal comment…but I digress.
I got two tickets for the concert BEFORE asking Amy to go. I thought I’d surprise her, because what female possibly could resist the siren call of the sticky sweet syrup emanating from Kenny’s soprano saxophone.
Well, she could– and did.
So what did I do instead? The logical thing: Invite my college roommate Joe.
“Uh, okay,” he said, after I told him what had happened. At least, he wouldn’t think I was trying to put a move on him.
When we got there, of course, in the grandstand were a mix of old and young, hetero and homo (although looking back, I now think that music really was gay— the writer says, to distance himself, from any latent homosexual feelings he might have felt as a child). Mostly, it was couples, lots of couples, which really made Joe and I feel out of sorts. I think I once went to put my arm on the chair behind him and then thought better of it.
The highlight or lowlight, at least for me as I was sitting there with my arms at my sides, was when Bolotin, the no talent ass clown, came out and performed a duet with Gorelick (if you make it through this also, you can skip Purgatory and go straight to heaven; consider it an indulgence, my son, my daughter):
It wasn’t the song I needed to hear right then.
Each Friday, I will offer a musical interlude/flashback from my youth called…originally, I’m sure no one else has this alliterative meme idea out there…Flashback Friday. Join me next week for more musical memories from my youth.
Posted on Humor-Blogs.com, where you can find Johnny Virgil and others who like us sometimes admit that we like(d) gay music…uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of our best friends are flaming fairies.