We can go our own way

(Note: I don't do blog dedications, but my heart is so heavy for two terrific friends and big music lovers, so this one is for Susan and Pam.)

After all the excitement of Wednesday's Clapton/Winwood show and one unexpected engagement, there were two roads Park could have gone down. The duo were making their way to Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. But we Claptonians decided to go down a different (and very long) path, and it didn't hurt that it was a cheaper path as well.

For months, we had been bemoaning the fact that our fave singer in the word Dana Fuchs, her kickass guitarist Jon Diamond and their rockin' band had been in Europe for months. So, with both the Dana Fuchs Band and Robert Randolph's Family Band on the free bill, we charted a course for Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Arts Music Festival.

That was all fine and good, except for when we hit town, we couldn't find the darn thing! No signage, and the GPS left us off in the middle of traffic. If we had wanted to go to Mellon Arena to rub elbows with Pens fans (and a few brave Wings fans) drooling over their impending Stanley Cup or if we wanted to take in a Pirates game (with a few brave Tigers fans), we would have been in luck.

But finally, we got pointed in the right direction (hey, there was signage AT the event, at least) and were seated in front of the stage (although a little discombobulatedly) with about 10 minutes to spare.

Dana, Jon and company were just what the doctor ordered. It's akin to a massage therapist getting into a knot on your shoulder, minus the residual pain the next day.

I got myself namechecked from the stage when Dana introduced "Drive," one of my favorite songs, and I hooted ... loudly. "Is that Paige? Thank you, girl." It's great to know all the songs in a setlist, it just added to an already substantive comfort level.

It was only a 45 minute-or-so set, but it was capped by Dana's trademark number, "Helter Skelter." Jon later told me that he saw me rockin' out from the stage, I gotta admit I do love to cut loose on that on.



We got on line to say hi to Dana and made some new friends -- particularly Brittany (a younger fan who apparently has a lot better idea of what music to listen to and of what to do on a Friday night than many of her peers) and another Mark (his dad owns the world's largest album collection -- vinyl -- in the world, which sadly recently went up on eBay.)

Saw one of the coolest things while waiting on line. A woman was very deftly working a hula hoop all over herself -- neck, arms, waist -- she was really nimble about it. Jon pointed it out to Dana, who was just amazed and open-mouthed. So there's someone who made her feel like we do when we hear her sing!!

I told them about how great Dana is with her fans, treating us more like friends. She bore that out by looking so happy when I told her about the engagement and had a hug and kiss for both of us. I told her once again that I would be happy to help her out anyway I can on the writing front. And also that she better stay in the USA for a while!! She said that it really was great to be on home turf in front of people who could understand what she was saying.

By the time we were done, Robert Randolph was underway and we sidled into an open spot. In fact, we kept moving up and by the end of the show, we were pretty much in the second or third row of the crowd.

RR and band exemplify a theory that Dana has about her religion (and ours) being the church of music, peace and love. Something to believe in that really make you feel better. And you feel it with every fiber of your body when both of these acts perform.

After our "religious" experience, we started heading toward Atlantic City. We found out the Penguins had won Game 7 via an electronic travel advisory sign: "Congrats Pens, Stanley Cup champs!"

We stopped for the night about an hour out of town and then ran into a parking lot in Philadelphia the next day, when we feared for 1. our sanity and 2. our Fleetwood Mac show -- not necessarily in that order. The GPS was less help than usual, so we pulled out a map and got ourselves up to Trenton and then over to AC.

AC is a special Mac place for us, since Mark had his Lindsey Buckingham epiphany when we were there last year with my sis. The city was almost under a layer of fog, and I sort of felt that way myself. But when the opening notes of "Monday Morning" started, I shook it off.

Stevie was in particularly good voice -- better than in both the shows we previously saw on the tour. There was a great stretched out-line (she's a draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-gon) in "Gold Dust Woman" that made me and Jenna (we had met on the eternal Stevie line at Borders a couple months ago ) gasp out loud.

Jenna was battling the forces of evil, namely a man who spilled at least half a glass of wine on her back with limited remorse, but we ended up rocking out pretty well. The three of us played the Mac drinking game (sans alcohol) and pretended to take shots each time a member hit one of the signals -- Lindsey talking about the band's complicated emotional history, Stevie twirling, Mick saying something unintelligible and John not saying anything (basically the whole show).

It was fun and exhausting and I am realllllllllllllllllllllly eager to just settle in on the old (make that new) homefront for a while.