Last week, the smallish Somerville Theater held a surprise, invitation-only appearance by U2. Yes, that U2. The band that fills stadiums. For those of us who were not invited to the concert (and with only 900 seats, who was?), we would make do with another concert in town.
Now, I’ve never been a fan of the shaggy Hall & Oates 80s duo, but it was my boyfriend’s birthday and he’s not afraid to admit he likes a good rendition of Sara Smile, so I thought, Why not? Oh, and I won the tickets, which made it a lot more palatable. So, in preparation, I spent the day responding to people in Hall & Oates song titles.
“Do you want to go to lunch?” my friend asked.
“I can’t go for that,” I said. “No, no can do.”
My boss asked if I wanted to go home early.
“You make-a my dreams come true,” I said.
I mean, the guys were prolific. Hit machines, my boyfriend calls them. In doing my pre-concert research on iTunes, I discovered I knew the songs I didn’t even think I knew. Somehow though, it’s not right that I know all these songs of a band I don’t even like.
In the end, my boyfriend was sick, so we didn’t get to sing along to Rich Girl or do the double clap during Private Eyes. It’s just as well. I think the music would have transported me back to eight grade and the feeling that I’d better get home and finish my math homework.