My cousin Adam Belz summed up his frustrations with cynicism at Covenant in this little phrase. Ever since then, I've applied it liberally, but no time was as appropriate as last night during the Christmas Celtic Sojourn at Emerson College's Cutler Majestic Theatre. Since when is text messaging during a performance okay? The young college couple in front of us didn't seem to think they were distracting anyone by doing it. Not only that, but the constant fidgeting and obvious distaste for Celtic harmony, Irish dancing and poetry, and traditional Christmas music was so irritating that I wanted to kick them in the back of their little heads. But I didn't. If you don't want to be here, just get up and leave already!
Otherwise, I enjoyed the show, though the half-egg shape of the theatre, combined with sitting in the farthest corner in the last row, made us feel like we were suspended 50 stories above the stage. I learned that all those songs the Chieftains sing about "the wren" are really talking about the old Irish St. Stephen's Day tradition of dressing up in costumes, capturing a wren in a cage, and singing songs for the neighbors to solicit money with which to bury the wren. Now apparently they gather money for charities instead.
"anti-anti"
Howe Gelb wrote a song that used similar language. But I don't remember how the text goes exactly, so when I am less tired I will look it up and send it to you. It's off his Upside Down House 2004 album...