An excruciating 10 days remain between now and my return to Parrot-dise, that is, a Jimmy Buffett concert. Yes, the Nest embraces all the best that is the modern-day troubadour from the Gulf Coast who tried and failed at a country career before moving to Key West and giving us the soundtrack to our collective wanderlust. Thanks to those jerks at Ticketmaster - specifically, glitches in their computer system - I’ve missed the last two years, and in that time my enthusiasm for Buffett waned. I started dabbling (then diving full on) into the indie rock scene, but this year the opportunity to return to the madness came back around. So I’ve got two tickets stored in a Corona bucket full of Jimmy CDs, I’m pulling out the old flower shirts, looking at all the embarrassingly fun photos from six consecutive years of attending Buffett shows starting in 2000, all the while rediscovering why I fell for this music in the first place.
In no particular order, here’s what I love about Buffett’s extensive songlist:
- He can tell an entire story in 4 minutes or less.
- Much of his material grows out of his break up and reconciliation with wife Jane, lending a poignancy to so many of his albums.
- His characters, whether real or imaginary, are the people you’d either like to meet on some remote Caribbean bar or, even better, emulate.
- That although he never charted a No. 1 single until 2002 (”It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere,” a duet with Alan Jackson), his music attracts huge crowds, making concert tickets among the hardest to come by every year.
- They’re the stuff of daydreams.
Many of the people I’ve met who resent Buffett’s repertoire fall into two categories: They either are tired of hearing “Margaritaville” every summer and just don’t get what the big deal is about “Cheeseburger in Paradise” (it’s about a boat trip Buffett took where he got lost and all he wanted was an American cheeseburger); or they’re just simply music snob killjoys who we don’t want at the party anyway. Both, though, miss the depth of Buffett’s songwriting abilities, and besides, attending the concerts is as much about camaraderie and fun-loving antics as it is the music. You won’t find a more laid back, accommodating, charitable, gregarious group of 40,000 people any where else but the parking lots of a concert venue hosting Jimmy Buffett.
The tailgating is the party of the year every year. I’ve told my fiancee, who’s making her first show evah (she has no idea what’s ahead), that we won’t even need to bring beer, liquor or food. The people are so incredibly friendly, you could spend the day walking around the expansive parking lots jammed with Parrottheads, and people will invite you over to share a cold one or two, munch on something from the grill and chat about whatever’s on your mind. If you arrive at 9 a.m., you’re late for the party. No kidding.
Concert going is never the same after you’ve attended a J.B. show. I can promise you that.
Ten days is just too far off:
