I am a loyalist when it comes to musicians and bands that take me back to my childhood; my iPod is filled with the sounds of music that makes me feel good. So when the opportunity came recently to see The Monkees in Las Vegas, I felt like a preteen again, hopping about in anticipation before, during and after the event. The experience was everything and more for me and I wish, like every other fan there that I could express to the group how much they mean to me.
She and I are the same age and come from the same region in New York, so our childhood experiences with Monkee Love are the same. I told my husband it was a good thing he wasn’t going with us because we were sure to make fools of ourselves. Thank goodness we were in good company; the other concert-goers took no notice of us as they were screaming and dancing in their seats the same as us.
Davy Jones was, of course, missed. Mike, Peter, and Mickey (he and Davy were my crushes) did a beautiful tribute to their lost band mate when they said that “Daydream Believer” belonged to the fans so they brought a guy from the audience up to lead us all in singing we watched a montage of Davy scenes from the television show.
During the entire concert I wondered how I would put into words the feelings I was having so I could write a blog post. Although I have conveyed here a little bit of the experience, I really am at a loss for words to share everything I was feeling. My emotions were mixed with nostalgia and joy, but there was so much more that I don’t know how to express. To have been able, in my fifties, to see and hear live a group that I only dreamed of being in the presence of as a kid is, well – I have no words to express. That is perhaps why music sometimes says it better and while I swayed, sang, jiggled, and screamed during the concert, I let me emotions do the talking for me.It was a magical night.
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