 "Photo: Ken Muir")
My Kelly Clarkson concert experience began one week before the Wednesday night show at the United Spirit Arena.
I have never seen an individual’s maturity level drop as quickly as when one of my friends learned I had a ticket to her concert.
In the days leading up to the show she pleaded with me like a bargaining 5-year-old for my ticket. I knew Clarkson had won the American Idol singing competition but had never witnessed first hand the extent to which teenage girls worshiped her.
After making it through the onslaught of female friends who tried to get my ticket, I barely made it to the show alive.
In the calm before the coming storm of screaming fan girls I was very impressed by opening act Eric Hutchinson. In his unfortunately-short performance, Hutchinson played the part of charming entertainer putting on a feel-good performance of catchy songs.
But as soon as it became clear his set was finished, the 5,000 fan girls around me lost their minds in anticipation of the pop goddess who would be going on stage soon. In the same way the best descriptions cannot capture the grandeur of the Grand Canyon, words cannot capture the shrieking screams before a Kelly Clarkson concert.
I will first say I was glad to hear that Clarkson’s performance had a “live” feel that went beyond her recordings. After seeing Colbie Caillat in Dallas last summer, I was disappointed because her concert sounded like she was lip syncing to a direct recording of her album.
Clarkson however, not only performed her classic songs with dynamic flare but also sang some impressive covers. I would have never expected to hear “Seven Nation Army” at a pop princess concert, but Clarkson actually played an impressive version of the White Stripes’ amazing song.
It would appear Clarkson has better taste in music than I expected as she played “Lies” by the Black Keys as well. It was also refreshing to see her shed the lights and blasting guitars of her band and sing a handful of quiet acoustic numbers as well.
Even though I am ashamed to admit it, I knew every one of Clarkson’s songs played that night. I have never owned a single track of Clarkson’s music, but because her music gets so much air time on radio stations, I don’t have to.
Halfway through “Behind These Hazel Eyes” I suddenly became aware I was singing along with all the screaming girls around me.
I was shocked at my involuntary reaction but could not help but tip my hat to catchy pervasiveness of the music. I think Clarkson will undoubtedly go down in history as one of the biggest pop artists of this decade.
You will now have to excuse me while I watch football in a truck while eating meat. I need to salvage any masculinity I have left.
