I would like to write a song about how I could fulfill an adolescent dream by seeing the Police and Elvis Costello play the Hollywood Bowl this Spring (yes, together), but that the performers and the dream are not what they once were, and the $600 tag was not in the dream. True, I could pay $54 to sit in section X2, but I know from experience that not even binoculars help much in that situation. I suppose if I really believed, I would have gotten up early on Sunday morning and stood in some line somewhere, simultaneously redialing the box office. I did not do that. I think I am afraid that I would get there and discover that the audience looks like me, rather than all the cool kids we were when there was a Police, and Andy Summers looks like my principal.
But, I can’t write a song about it right now, because I am mostly grown up and don’t have time for it this afternoon. I will just have to rely on your lyrical imagination, and, in the latter matter, my likelihood to win a radio contest.
Oh, Roxanne. Oh, Alison. I’m not angry. Truth hits everybody.
The Police: Message in a Bottle