Someone asked me how the Indigo Girls concert at Pridefest was last night. “Everyone was wet,” I replied.
I’ve always been a huge fan of the Indigo Girls, and the thing that annoys me the most about being a big fan is how dismissive the general public is of their music because of their sexual orientation. I think everyone should listen to the Indigo Girls without prejudice; their music is pure joy.
Last night, diehard fans stood in non-stop rain that dampened everything except our spirits. The audience, huddled together in umbrellas and raincoats for warmth, was rewarded heavily by a great show.
Although it was a rocky start (feedback in Amy Ray’s mic led to the duo walking off stage mid-song), by the third song “Shame On You,” everyone — including the dynamic duo of Ray and Emily Saliers — was really getting into the swing of it.
They played old hits as well as new ones: “Power of Two,” “The Wood Song” (“This is a song about a flood,” Saliers explained), “Hammer and Nail.” The set list was mostly upbeat and fun — probably to counter the rain and keep the audience happy.
And happy they were: There was dancing in the rain everywhere, with people kicking off their soggy shoes and twirling each other on the grounds and on tabletops. Mentioning the Packers’ Ice Bowl, Saliers said she knew Wisconsin fans were hardened, but was inspired to witness it firsthand.
The Indigo Girls’ powerhouse harmonies and amazingly beautiful voices never fail to give me the chills, even with the rain pouring down like crazy. They talked about their new album, set for release later this year, before closing their set with “Closer to Fine” and “Galileo,”with everyone singing along.
The thing I love about going to concerts at Pridefest is that people are just so much nicer in general. People are there for music and beer, but there are no drunken buffoons, no pushy fans. Everyone appreciates the musical acts that are there, and celebrates sexual orientation happily. Which, despite the rain, makes for a totally awesome experience.
Proof? Walking back to the parking lot in soggy shoes and wet sweaters, carrying broken umbrellas and dripping purses, and a forseeable cold, my sister noticed the dance tent. “Let’s GO!” she said, pulling me to the tent. I don’t remember the last time my sister did something spontaneously fun that disregarded our comfort, but Pride makes you do the funnest things.
