The Girl in Gucci Glasses

I’ve been trying to see The Pretty Reckless live for years. Every time they came through Dallas, I already had something going on. Work. A dinner. A family commitment. Some obligation I’d agreed to months earlier and had completely forgotten about when I first thought, Oh, I’d love to see them.

Then the tour would come and go, and I’d tell myself I’d catch them next time.

So when they announced the Dallas show at House of Blues, I blocked the calendar.

That was the whole strategy. I wanted to go, so I made myself unavailable for anything else.

Maybe that sounds obvious, but I think adults are weirdly bad at doing this. We’ll protect a work meeting like it depends on our life, but when something is purely for fun, suddenly we’re checking whether it fits neatly into the remaining 47 minutes of our evening.

I’ve gotten less interested in doing that.

The Crowd Was Already Ready to Go

The line outside House of Blues wrapped around the block, and normally I would have looked at that and thought, Oh, absolutely not.
Instead, I didn’t really care.

The crowd had that restless concert energy before anything had even happened. People were talking about the band, favorite songs, previous shows. My friend and I started chatting with people around us, which is one of the best parts of going to concerts. You can walk into a room full of strangers and suddenly have an easy conversation because everyone has already passed the most important compatibility test: they like the same band.

Then the doors opened and things got louder.

By the time The Pretty Reckless took the stage, the energy in the room was borderline ridiculous, in the best way. The crowd was completely locked in, and the band gave it right back.

Taylor Momsen knows how to command a room. After years of listening to The Pretty Reckless, seeing her perform live felt overdue, especially because the music has always had that particular mix of grit, attitude and edge that makes considerably more sense when you’re standing in a packed venue with the volume turned all the way up.

And hearing everyone sing along to songs I’ve listened to for years was probably my favorite part.

There are certain things streaming killed the illusion of, but live music isn’t one of them. You can listen to the same song a thousand times and still have no idea what it feels like when several hundred people scream it back at the person who wrote it.

That part is impossible to fake.

Buy the Tickets

I’m not saying everyone needs to blow their paycheck on concert tickets. Rent remains annoyingly real. But if there’s an artist you genuinely love, you can afford the ticket and you keep telling yourself you’ll go next time, I’m increasingly in favor of just buying the ticket.

I’d been doing the “next time” thing with The Pretty Reckless for years.

This time, I decided I was done waiting for my calendar to magically become less crowded.

And I’m glad I did.

There’s a difference between spending money mindlessly and spending money on something you already know you’re going to enjoy. I can think of plenty of purchases I’ve made that I barely remember. I’ll remember this night.

The line. The crowd. My friend. The noise. Taylor Momsen walking onto that stage. The ringing ears afterward.

That’s money I don’t mind spending.

Maybe This Is What Getting Older Actually Looks Like

I used to think getting older meant becoming more responsible, more practical, more organized. And sure, unfortunately, all of that is involved.
But I also think it means getting more specific about what you like.

I like live music. I like a crowded room. I like seeing an artist I’ve followed for years and hearing the songs without a screen between me and the experience. I like going with a friend and talking to strangers and coming home exhausted because I stayed out later than I probably should have.

None of that needs to be productive.

It doesn’t need to teach me anything.

I don’t need to turn every good night into a lesson about living life to the fullest.

I just wanted to see The Pretty Reckless.

So I blocked the calendar, bought the ticket and finally went.

Turns out, “next time” is a lot less satisfying than actually showing up.