Buy this poster at allwall.com

Buy this poster at allwall.com

• Venue: Moore Theater
• Place: Seattle, Washington
• Date: 01 October 1994

The return trip to Seattle was certainly different, and yet the same. Tori wasn't there. And this time, Leslie stood me up instead of someone else. The good news was that I did not have to shop for an engagement ring after Sarah McLachlan's performance. And what a performance it was! Her last North American concert in a year-long marathon road trip. For me what made it special was that her management comped me with two free tickets. It was a total sell-out, and the people waiting on line to buy tickets just had to be a little envious of that guy in the grey linen suit, no-tie Armani shirt and black cowboy boots who just cooly showed up at will-call, gave his name and walked away with 6th row center freebies! As I'm not that familiar with Sarah's music, I can't give an accurate set list. She was dressed in a white satin long gown, a black piegnoir was over it, unbuttoned, like a jacket or vest. Sarah's hands are just beautiful, and she moves them so gracefully and so sensuously as she sings. She also played the piano, the guitar, and did a duet with her backup singer, Camille, that she said she had never done before on this tour, and which caused her to say afterwards, "Oh, shit, I'm shaking." The regular set ended with firework sparklers, falling in a shower from the top of the stage. There were several encores, with the last song being Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, and an incredible amount of clowning around, spraying silly-putty-like colored whipped cream on the bass players, and keyboards, exploding stink bombs on the stage, and other practical jokes. Sarah really seemed to be enjoying herself. The audience was wonderful, applauding and screaming madly after each number, but barely breathing during a song, a very different audience than the louts at the Opera House during Tori's concert just two weeks before.

After the concert, I was invited to come backstage for a little party with the Nettwerk people and other invited guests. We were led down a staircase, and into a basement recreation-type room with folding chairs and benches. Everyone was handed a beer (Henry Weinstock, and an assortment of microbrews from the Seattle area; I don't remember if there were any Canadian beers); later, a large ice-chest with more beers were brought in, and as the evening progressed, I remember having 3 or 4, but that's just a guess. I started talking with Rodderick and Anisa Romero, who are the lead vocalists in a Seattle-based group called Sky Cries Mary. Rodderick had tattoos covering his arms which told the Buddist "elephant story" about elephants and clouds, and falling from the sky and killing a devotee at prayer. At one point I remember singing a Sanskrit bhajan about elephants (Gan'ne shar sher a non, sher a non Ganesh-a), but I don't know how that possibly could have happened! :) I also talked with the Australian vocalists (from Sidney) from the group which opened for Sarah, Single Gun Theory. The women were blond, and pretty in a very natural way, without pretentions. They seemed fascinated with my business cards and told each other that I was from San Diego and could maybe help them get a gig. I hoped they hadn't heard my Sanskrit singing.

Sarah had changed into a green velvet dress, long black stockings that came up to her knees, and had holes around the upper edges, and sandals I think instead of the boots she had been wearing (I'm not very good about remembering shoes for some reason). She had been talking with some people at the next table for a long, long time, and seemed really settled in. So I went over and introduced myself. I told her how wonderful her performance was (I really meant it), and asked if I might hug her? She smiled and gave me a wonderfully long hug which I didn't want to end. I mentioned that I was going to Cleveland on Friday to hear and meet Tori, and asked if she had any messages that she wanted me to relay. "Just tell her, hi, and that I called her brother today", was the message. Later, after a few more beers (well, maybe it was 3 or 4??) I asked Sarah if she would sign the program for me, with something funny; I told her that I was completely star-struck! She laughed and wrote, "Joel - Peace, Love & Ecstasy to you!" Then, she drew a peace sign + a heart = a smiling face, and signed it "S. McLachlan." To this wonderful message, Camille Henderson, Sarah's backup singer, added "Joel! Until we meet again! Camille." I seemed to be fascinated by Camille, I must admit.

Someone came over to Rodderick (Sky Cries Mary, elephant song) and told him about a Rave Party with hot-tubs, sex and drugs. He must have noticed that my eyes were kind of bulging, so he handed me the slip of paper, with an address on 1st Avenue. I just smiled. The party broke up about 1 am, but after saying good-bye to the guest of honor, I found that I was locked in the Moore Theater, and waited for everyone else to leave via the stage door. For a moment I stood on the stage facing the empty seats, thinking how wonderful it must feel to be performing before a live audience, and drawing upon their energies and adulations. I walked out the door just behind Sarah, and waited briefly as she went over to some die-hard fans and signed stuff for them. Then I waved good-bye as she walked over to her tour bus, thinking to myself that this was like a dream, except that I really had to take a wicked piss! Sadly, I didn't go to the Rave party, but just called it a night.

What else did I do in Seattle. Saw Kate Bush's new film, "The Line, the Cross and the Curve". Shopped. Ate wonderful foods, salad Nicoise with grilled salmon, smoked salmon and potato pancakes, eggs Florentine, poached on steamed spinich with a Hollandaise sauce and fresh fruit at a wonderful hole-in-the-wall cafe called Bocco, where I also bought one of their T-shirts. Took the ferry to Bainbridge Island, hiked, ate a great Thai noodle lunch, very hotly spiced, with chop sticks, and stood on the bow of the ferry to let the 30-knot winds cheer my spirits and blow away the cobwebs. Tried to pick up women, on the plane up, on the plane back, at art galleries, at the Seattle Art Museum, in restaurants, in bars. Everywhere I failed completely, proving that Salvadore Dali was wrong about never achieving perfection. When it came to having women reject me, my score was perfect!

On my last night in town, I went to the Seattle Opera House for a performance by the Australian State Ballet of La Fille Mal Gardée. It was funny, not classical, but lovely. There were no taxis when the ballet let out and the monorail had stopped running. Waiting for a bus, I talked with a man from North Carolina about a famous child abuse trial in which 7 workers at a day-care school were apparently railroaded by a hostile small town environment and family feud that got out of hand. He filled me in on what was happening. It did not look good for the defendants.

When I got back to my room there was a phone message from a woman named Kiersten. She had returned my call. Sadly I thought, "So Dali, you are right after all."