Back This Up

I want to be a back-up singer. I can’t really sing. At all. Or dance. At all. But damn, back-up singers are so incredibly cool. I just really want to be one. Maybe in a future life . . . .

My husband and I attended Elvis Costello’s concert on Sunday night. It was really, really good. After getting over the shock of seeing all of the “old people” there (much like my grandmother-in-law who didn’t particularly like her Senior Living home because everyone there was “so old” – never mind the fact that she was one of the oldest people there), we really enjoyed ourselves. Elvis is still an amazing crooner. His keyboardist, bass player and drummer were all totally on point. The modern art flashing up on the screens behind the band, was a cool, thought-provoking touch. And despite being old, most of the concert goers were really fun and energetic. Most of them stood and danced and sang-shouted for almost all of the concert. But do you know who really stole the show? I’ll tell you who stole the show. The back-up singers stole the show. In particular, the back-up singer dressed in a gold lame jumpsuit with rainbow colored hair extensions that were so long, Crystal Gayle would have been impressed. She looked like a super-hero and when Elvis gave her the spotlight, and she belted out her solo, that back-up singer didn’t just look like a Guardian of the Galaxy, she WAS The Galaxy. That woman could sing like no other I have heard before her!!

I think that being a back-up singer is probably the best part of any gig there is, because the pressure is off. You get to go along for the ride, wear really cool, far out clothes and make-up (very loose work attire policy), stay on stage just as long as the main act, and your primary job is to keep the audience happy, engaged and to keep their clapping in rhythm (or as close to rhythm as the audience can manage, which depends on how cool and coordinated your audience is, but every job has its drawbacks). The superstars always seem incredibly appreciative of their back-up singers and dancers, as they should be. As a back-up singer, you have a super star genius fawning all over you in gratitude, but you don’t let it go to your head.

After the show, as a back-up singer, you can remain anonymous. You have the freedom to run into Walgreens for some water or ibuprofen or go out to eat where you want to after the show and if you can “lose” the superstar who hired you, you can eat in relative, pleasant obscurity, while still charging your meal to the Super Star. You are very secure in your talents, your freedom, and realization of how much you are needed by the genius who hired you.

Yep, back-up singer is where it’s at, in this day and age. It’s like being in The Secret Service, without all of the risk. I love back-up singers. I want to be one. In my next life I will be one, in the life where I actually have some musical talent to capitalize on . . . .