There is joy. Always. Somewhere.

Last Friday night I was so full of joy, I could have literally burst. Literally.  Like my guts might have splattered all over walls of the Dallas Events Center in the Texas Station casino.

Why, you ask?  What made me beam brighter than the Luxor light?  Just a little tribute band called Night Fever. A Bee Gees tribute band. I know! Just when you thought, "Could Linda get any cooler?"

You know me and tribute bands--I love them. I think I've seen three different Bruce Springsteen tributes, a few U2, The Rolling Stones, Neil Young... hell, I even dragged Mom and Stepdaddy to a Pink Floyd tribute band in Boise.  Call me queer, but I love live music and how often do you get to hear "Thunder Road" or "Cinnamon Girl" live? Or any song from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack?

Friday night I was accompanied by my pal Lisa Gioia Acres, and minutes before show time, Lisa being Lisa somehow managed to get us seats up in the second row, which was awesome. Once the band came on, though, I realized the hearing in my right ear, the one closest to the speaker, might seriously be compromised. Since it had already withstood decades of abuse, perhaps most notably from a series of Sonic Youth shows in the late 90s, I decided to rip off a piece of dirty old Kleenex from my pocketbook and wad it up and stick it in my ear.  Attractive. Good thing I'm growing out my hair these days.

Anyway, the show was fantastic! The Bee Gees had a million hits and the very capable band played them all; there was only one song I didn't recognize.  A happy surprise:  I hadn't realized that they wrote "Islands in the Stream," the monster recorded by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers.  I will kick your ass if you tell anyone, but I freakin' love that song. Love. It.

Anyway, at one point between songs Lisa said something in my ear like, "So which guy in the band would you pick for yourself?" and I was like, "Wow, the rhythm guitar player. How did you know I was playing that game in my head?" If there was any low point of the night (other than paying eight bucks for a Corona), it was a memory I had of being bored to death during a meeting at one of my old jobs and playing the "If somebody had a gun to your head and you HAD to have sex with one of these guys" game.  I looked around the conference table and thought, "Shoot!"   

But we're in happier times now.  Here's a You Tube video someone posted of the Night Fever band from a performance last year (thank you!).  You can see they are awesome.



Every once in a while during the show I'd look back at the crowd and everyone had the same grin as Lisa and I as we all chair-danced in our seats. The scene was just so joyful! The highlight was toward the end when the band played "You Should Be Dancing."  Everybody got up and boogied, and I mean just going nuts, and keep in mind that the average age in the place was about 110. It was so cool. There was a heavy set guy dancing to the right of the stage and let me tell you, he had some moves. Like you know he was the man on the dance floor three and a half decades ago, and probably even now when he goes to a wedding.  Lisa and I were both checking him out and smiling as we danced like it was 1977, both of us so freakin' happy, and at that moment Chuck's death, the tragedies in Boston and Texas, my dear friend's recent cancer diagnosis, and another dear friend who lost his mother earlier that day...  through all that sorrow... there was joy.

There was JOY!!!  All because people decided to share their talents. Am I starting to sound like a broken record? Maybe some day there will be a Linda Lou tribute artist. Then I will know I have made it!