I went to see Jonathan Richman play for the first time in my life ten days ago. I have loved him for years, but the occasion never presented itself to actually see him perform. He played three small shows in London and I went to see him on the last date at the Tabernacle, out there in the deepest darkest Westbourne Grove area.
The show was fantastic and blew my mind into a million tiny little pieces. I kept thinking what a genius he was. From his guitar playing to his songwriting, his ever-changing interpretation of his own songs, the multilingual witticisms – too perfect, too funny, too moving, too much and at the same time so completely imperfect and touching.
I can’t quite describe the intensity of this experience for me without sounding like a complete nut job, but I couldn’t write about it earlier because I had to digest this almost religious experience. See? Nut job. I am not religious, but I imagine that’s what it would feel like. For the first time in ages, I found myself inspired and with space to think, despite being entirely taken by the concert. This is what happens when you encounter a truly wonderful storyteller, I suppose – his stories take you places in your own mind that you didn’t even know existed.
And here I leave you with a video that will also take you somewhere you didn’t even know existed…