Taylor Swift

I went to the Taylor Swift concert last night at Gillette Stadium. Yes, Taylor Swift, the goddess of pubescent girls everywhere. And I, a 64 year old testosterone-filled male, was there along with 55,000 others, certainly a different demographic than my usual AC/DC or the Boss. Jackie and I must have been the oldest couple present.

A perfect confluence of circumstances led to this undertaking. First, my wife loves Taylor, playing her music constantly, singing it in the shower, looking for it on Cat Country 98.1 or WKLB, 102.5. Second, Gillette is a short drive from our house, and the weather looked good for last night. Finally, I found two half price tickets on Stub Hub yesterday morning, $32 for 2nd row in the top deck overlooking the stage, not bad especially with some good binoculars. So off we went.

Taylor purports to being a country artist. However, her concert lacked the requisite references to Ford pickups, green tractors or beer. I never heard any odes to Daddy, Mama or coon dogs. Despite what Brad Paisley says, this was not country music. Instead Taylor put on a pop extravaganza, replete with countless wardrobe changes, elaborate stage props, pyrotechnics, even a basket which transported her high over her adoring fans via an intricate network of wires. Midway through the show the skies opened up and rain poured down. But Taylor didn't miss a beat. In fact, she was a trooper, getting as drenched as the crowd. It even added to her aura.

Hard as it may be to believe, I really enjoyed the concert. Despite the grief I give my wife, I like many of Taylor's songs. Her latest single "Mean" may do more to prevent bullying than all the anti-bullying educational programs put together. It was nice to see the positive influence she has on so many young girls, a total contrast to the drug and alcohol-addled, forever rehabbing young sluts that populate the news media. Taylor seems like a genuinely nice, sincere young lady who at times last night appeared close to tears as she partook in the adulation of the crowd. Hopefully she'll remain that way.

Today my ears are thankful for a nice peaceful Sunday. The shock-and-awe initial bombing of Baghdad was quiet compared to the maniacal screaming of 45,000 teenage girls who knew all the words to all the songs and felt a moral obligation to sing them as loud as possible. I finally realize how fortunate I was that my coaching career was limited to boys.