Although I adore Glam Rock/70s, I will always have a soft spot for classical music. I think a lot of it has to do with being raised on it (years and years of piano/violin lessons & singing in a choir). My family is very musical – if we aren’t playing it, singing it, or going to school for it…we’re listening to it.
The Canadian Tenors are a lesser-known, better-looking Canadian version of Il Divo -- essentially a boy-band for seniors. They sing a lot of songs that you probably won’t be interested in – David Foster’s “The Prayer,” Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” etc. What can I say: I’m a sucker for good harmonies and well-groomed men in suits. I saw them last year when they came to town, and I just saw them a few nights ago. The show was a powerful, incredible, goosebump-filled performance in an auditorium comprised mostly of middle-aged women coming in their pants.
 |
| Here they are, going for a casual stroll through the forest, clad in Armani. |
 |
| Here they are, going for a leisurely mountain climb. |
Here’s the deal: I don’t usually like to be a superfan at concerts (not that I’ve been to many). Seriously. I come and have a good time and leave (okay, obviously if David Bowie came out of retirement and I miraculously got a chance to see him, this would not be the case). I always thought that people who lined up for autographs in general were pathetic. Really, what’s the point of waiting in line forever, getting a sloppy signature by a celebrity who is rushing to get out of the building, and having little exchange with the person you so desperately want to meet? To me, it’s not worth it. And besides, don’t celebrities look down on the lowly vermin who wait in line for autographs? Nope, I don’t want celebrities looking down on me.
Except if it’s the Canadian Tenors.
Not that they’re BIG celebrities or anything.
But as soon as they finished their show, the first time I saw them, I knew I HAD to have a hardcopy of their CD. I didn’t care about paying a ridiculous amount for it. I didn’t care about waiting in line. I didn’t care that I was the only young person in the vicinity, who didn’t really belong among the superfans. I didn’t care about how awkward I would sound, as I approached them, saying, “Hi……Thanks…..Bye….”
 |
| I'm not quite sure how they ended up on top of what appears to be a glacier, but they still look posh, as usual. Very realistic, boys. |
The 4th tenor, however, failed to show up for the autograph signings the last time I saw them. Bastard. I was pretty pissed that the 4 beautiful Armani-clad gods on my CD cover only had 3 signatures next to their faces. What to do, what to do?….Quite honestly, I don’t know why I care so much, especially because the missing tenor isn’t even one of the good-looking ones.
Anyways, the other night I planned on getting the missing tenor to sign my CD. I was determined. I dressed hot (not to sound vain...but it’s true), planned my bathroom breaks accordingly, and managed to re-apply lip-gloss as the last song was finishing. I kinda secretly hoped that the tenors would pull a Gene Simmons, i.e. point out a girl (such as “Row 3, set 7”) for the crew to bring backstage, and ultimately, into Gene’s hotel bed. With the tenors though, I was hoping they’d pick out me (Row 4, seat 18). I would accompany them to their hotel room, but NOT for a ménage a cinq. Nope. We would drink wine, eat cheese, and talk about Mozart. The hot one would serenade me whilst giving me a foot massage. Right?!?
Wrong.
Apparently the Canadian Tenors think they’re cool and famous enough to have a VIP section, where you can “meet and greet” them. When my grandma and I went to buy the tickets, they asked us, “Do you want the meet and greet VIP tickets?” and my grandma said, “No.” It made sense at the time. I mean, my grandparents could care less about meeting them. And I figured I’d see them at the autograph table, among vermin like myself.
The night of, I was kicking myself.
“Grandma, I need the missing tenor’s signature!”
“Why don’t you sneak upstairs to the VIP section then, K-Money?”
Eeek….daunting.
I headed for the stairs, swaying my nicely dressed booty as I went. There was nobody guarding the stairs that I was heading towards.
“Excuse me, do you have a ticket?” a man said, emerging out of nowhere.
“Um, sorry, what?” I asked. Shit….he knows, I thought to myself. I’m not a very good liar.
“A VIP ticket.”
“Oh, you mean my show ticket? I have it in here somewhere –"
“Actually, this is a strict invite only area.”
There was a long pause.
“Oh, well, I was just looking for somebody up there, I mean, I don’t know, I mean…” I started walking away. Real smooth, eh?
Here's a summary about what you need to know:
1) I LOVE The Canadian Tenors, which really doesn’t make sense, because I LOVE this even more:
2) I LOVE The Canadian Tenors, even though they perform very cheesily, which I am always on the alert for. They often close their eyes whilst singing (really bothers me), they sing churchy and love songs, and do unnecessary hand gestures to “show their emotion” whilst singing.
3) I am OBSESSED about getting the 4th tenor’s autograph, even though I don’t value autographs too much.
4) The Canadian Tenors have a VIP SECTION in my CRAPPY CITY, which really doesn’t make sense, because they: a) Aren’t extremely famous; b) Need to sign all the autographs they can get; c) Shouldn’t expect to meet any sophisticated folk from my city.
5) The “guard” wouldn’t let a sexy young thing like me upstairs. This doesn’t make sense because: a) All men in suits would want me in their company; 2) VIP sections are supposed to be stocked with hot girls, right?!?; and c) I was not in an actual "hardcore” concert where VIP sections are legitimate.
I hate you Canadian Tenors. But I am still destined to get that final signature. And when it does happen, believe me, you owe me more than just a foot massage.
