Standing at the crosswalk outside Citibank, a decision had to be made: LACMA for free Jazz or home. I shivered and that decided me. I wasn't dressed warm enough for the drop in LA temperature upon the setting of the sun. Home I went. On the way, I passed the El Rey Theater. Perhaps looking official with a bank folder tucked under my arm, more than one person asked if I was selling tickets for the concert that night. A New York attitude still running through my blood I shrugged and shook my head no. Vaguely I heard that it was for Foster of the People. Behind on the music scene, that name meant nothing to me.
That is until twenty minutes later; I accompanied my sister to her next door neighbor's apartment where pre-gaming was in full swing. "Foster of the People," they said. Six tickets they had, all of them alloted. But I had a drink with them and chatted and then we bid adieus. Off I went to my apartment as they headed to the concert. "We'll try to find you a ticket," they said. We'll call you if we do.
I said, "Sure," not thinking a ticket would actually materialize and turned on the oven to make myself dinner. But oddly enough, five minutes later, a phone call was received; a ticket found.
Lipstick, hair, shoes and off I was to see Foster of the People.
Loved the energy! LA is their hometown. "It feels so good to be home after being on the road for months," they announced. Lighting was magical and the way the bodies of the musicians moved in sync with each other was riveting. Favorite moment was when "Pumped Up Kicks" came on. The crowd went wild. Dancing and singing on top of our lungs, it was the first time I had heard the song but it was such a catchy beat the words came naturally.
I marveled at my luck. Opting out on music at one venue but following the clues home, finding a night of music after all.
