Tofu and Cats

I'm listening to Warren Zevon right now. I love Warren Zevon. About twelve (fourteen? - who knows anymore) years ago I went to a Zevon concert with my then-friend Scott. Scott was one of my best friends for about eight years. Our friendship ended a year or two after that concert. For the most part I was ok with that but every once in a while I'll think of a fun time we shared and I miss him.

I saw Warren Zevon in concert about three times, but the night with Scott was definitely the best. Partly because it was just a silly, happy evening and also because Warren played with gorgeous, passionate intensity (any fellow fans of the late, great might know what I mean).

The opening act was as bad as W.Z. was good. The concert took place in Boulder, Colorado and featured a very Boulder-like husband and wife couple. They were aging hippy types with acoustic guitars and one song was more earthy and smarmy than the next. The worst song, however, was so bad it was almost...no, actually it wasn't almost good. It was unequivocally bad. The bearded guy introduced the song as "One that I wrote for my wife Maggie...who is everything to me". Awww.
Ok, that's sweet, but the lyrics were something like "She's a woman, she's a girl, she's an angel, she's a chiiiiiiild." Oy. Scott and I debated on several names for what their act should have been called before deciding on 'Tofu and Cats'.

After the concert, we walked back from the Boulder Theater to Scott's apartment. For some reason we decided to make up ironic and / or silly pet names. I'm sure there were obvious ones like Hercules for a Chihuhua or Fluffy for a bad-tempered Rottweiler but the one I remember was Scott's contribution of Shar Peis named Scro and Tum. I have no idea why I still think that's funny.

Warren Zevon broke at least three guitar strings that night. He played in such a full-throttle, nothing-between-him-and-the-music manner that his guitar could have blissfully and righteously disintegrated at the end of it all. He was amazing.

There's other concerts I remember with similar reverance: The Who. The Call. The Moody Blues. Even Dan Fogelberg at Red Rocks, if nothing else because the beautiful setting and cool mountain air was such a perfect venue for him. Of course the Beat Farmers, but my obsession with them in the early 90s is a post unto itself. Al Stewart, whose live version of "On the Border" gave me a source of happiness to draw upon for months. That one song still does now, more than 20 years later, especially the intro. Gorgeous.

Ok, back to my school work. Sigh.