ON WEDNESDAY I WENT TO SEE BRYAN ADAMS.
Yes. That's right. Bryan Adams. And it was good.
I have been listening to old man Bryan since before I can remember. My parents raised me on a quite possibly toxic mix of Bryan Adams, Bon Jovi and AC/DC records, mixed in with the ubiquitous 90's 'music' of the Spice Girls (still love them) and Backstreet Boys (still love them, too). The first gig I ever went to was Bryan Adams when I was about six or seven years old, then again when I was about eight years old. So seeing him now, at the age of 20, made me feel both very young, and astonishingly old. It also made me fall in love with him all over again.
It is ridiculous to me that I can love a man entirely because of his voice, but then again I do have a proper crush on Charlie Sheen, and it certainly isn't because I find his personality charming. It's because when he talks he sounds like melted gold. Pretty much the same thing with Bryan. When he sings, I feel all fluttery. So imagine what I was like on Wednesday, while he played, just him and his acoustic guitar, in a theatre in Bradford, and I was probably about 20 metres away from him. I almost peed my pants.
The concert was incredible. He just sounded PERFECT. I was worried that he was going to sound old or that he would have lost his touch or something, but he seems to have gotten better with age. The whole show simply blew me away. Just how talented he is was insane; to be able to stand there, on your own without a band, and sing and still fill the whole space with your voice...it was beautiful. A beautiful night.
The venue wouldn't let us take photos, and my camera is about as inconspicuous as the sun, so I only managed to get a few blurry shots on my phone. Instead, I'll give you this:
Obviously I got home the next day, still singing (Everything I do) I do it for you and I had to watch Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. Depressingly, I know every single word to this film. But, you know what, I'm not ashamed. I should be, but I'm not. I love it. I LOVE IT.
Moving swiftly on...
Nothing much else of note went on this week, really. We started painting in my art class, but I had a difficult time concentrating because the model was an absolute BABE. He looked like Andrew Garfield. Tricky to concentrate on painting when a very naked Andrew Garfield-a-like is sitting in front of you. I'm definitely not the mature student that I'm hoping the other art class attendees are taking me for.
NEXT WEEK: There won't be a weekly review post next Sunday (it'll probably come about Tuesday again) because I'm going to see My Chemical Romance in Manchester (aaand there goes my street cred again).