Husband and I and a few hundred or so of our fellow Newburyportions attended an Aimee Mann concert at the middle school auditorium last night. That woman has the physique of a teenage supermodel. I knew she’d been around since the dawn of MTV, so I Googled her. She’s fifty freaking years old! Is this what I can look forward to when I reach un certain âge?
Mann was wonderful, but she appeared to be nonplussed at the prospect of performing at the middle school, saying she hadn’t been thus situated since her eighth-grade talent show, and asking us whether we’d seen My Fair Lady there recently. The banter was charming, but I felt like jumping up to inform her that no less than Richard Thompson had graced that stage, so: respect.
I mean, I’ll always thrill to the sound of Ms. Mann throwing off the emotional shackles of her repressive stockerbroker boyfriend in “Voices Carry,” but no one is calling HER one of the best guitarists in the world, is ALL I’m saying.