Ticket To Harry

There are hundreds of girls in the streets of Edinburgh donning pink cowboy hats and boas. Did I miss a memo? Adam and I inquire: Harry Styles. They’re all walking home from his concert at Murrayfield. 

This puts an idea in my head. I’d like to see Harry Styles… and he’s playing again tomorrow.

Adam is going on The Edinburgh Literary Pub Tour which will take him on an “entertaining dramatic romp through 300 years of literary history of Scottish writers and their lives.”

Do I want to go?

Umm, Have fun, honey! And can you go on Stub Hub and get me a ticket to Harry?

I’m obsessed with “As It Was” (grandchild of a’ha’s “Take On Me.”) Sometimes I go to a concert to hear one song! Also, I like to observe the modern fan-culture condition. I’m confident Harry will demonstrate.

Adam holds my hand and takes me to the tram…like he’s taking me to camp. He asks a bevy of young pink-hatted blonds if they could make sure I get to where I’m going. I’ve been to a concert or 2 before, thank you very much. 

When the tram arrives one of the pink-hatted blonds advises me that I should get on it and I’m truly thankful because as confident as I am I can totally see myself going in the wrong direction. (Although one would think that 1000 other pink-hatted girls getting on this tram should be a clue.)  

The helpful blond’s friends are not keen on babysitting me. But she’s not having it. She gives me a wink when it’s time to get off. Of all the pink-hatted girls, if I could choose one to be my daughter, it would be her. I know Layla would show the same kindness to another mother traveling alone. 

The stadium is mass insanity. Pink for days! Boas abounding. I have an assortment at home. I could have worn one had I known. 

Anyone under 16 has to be escorted by a grown up. Lots of Mums. A couple of Dads holding hands with second graders. 

They’re bumping into me like I’m invisible. Presumably, because I’m alone. That’s fine. Everyone should enjoy their own company as much as I enjoy mine. I make my way to my seat. 

Boa feathers are everywhere. 

70,000 people. 99.9% of them present female. And there were just as many last night. Every girl in Scotland bought a ticket to Harry. (No wonder it was hard to book a hotel this weekend). 

Pre-show — “Proud Mary.” Very apropos after last week’s loss. 💔 They know the words. They dance. God bless them. 

They impatiently chant “Hotty, Hotty Hotty!” I realize they’re actually chanting “Harry” with a Scottish brogue. (But “Hotty” makes sense too.)

Look what just landed on my leg!

 There’s he is. Harry the Hotty! Strutting the length of the stage. Happy to be on it. Confident. Energized. In excellent voice. A showman for sure. Smiles are wide and eyes are gleaming. How does someone get so famous? I marvel. They adore him. 

He could have any girl on this field. I wonder if each one thinks they have a shot. When I was 7 I literally believed I had a chance with Paul McCartney — always the optimist even at an early age. Hey, hope is good for the heart.

Is the Harry show the equivalent to The Beatles at Shea? Hell no. The main emotion here is glee. The Shea crowd was older, maniacal, inconsolable, in tears, fainting. This is a family friendly event — an interactive experience. They sing along to every song much like The Sound Of Music Sing-A-Long at the Hollywood Bowl. The second graders mouth the words and yawn at the same time. It’s past their bed time!

Harry chats with a gal in the front of the crowd, he gives props to the one wearing the banana costume, he returns the love to the fans holding signs that say they love him, he has the entire stadium sing happy birthday to a birthday girl. He’s a master at the “Parasocial Relationship” — a phenomenon in which a beloved celebrity makes fans feel like they’re his friends. (Taylor’s great at it.) The Beatles never did that. They made you desire them, ‘cathect’ them. But they were untouchable.

When Bruce (Springsteen) takes the same stage on Monday the crowd will likely not be singing a long but listening with bated breath at least to songs like “Tunnel Of Love.” Definitely no pink hats. I wonder if Harry ever wishes he could offer that kind of user experience. He’s merely 30. He’s got time to evolve if he wants to. Funny — when the Beatles were 30 they were already finished. In 7 years they went from the frenzy of Beatlemania to making the most sophisticated albums of all time…without touring.

All that being said, Harry seems pretty stoked with his situation as it is. He sings “Medicine.” The crowd goes wild. And “Sign of the Times.” They go wild again. “Watermelon Sugar.” Again.

I hope Adam is having as much fun on the Literary Pub Tour. 😳

And then the stage goes black of course, just when we KNOW it’s not over and we hear baby talk — the intro to the reason I came: “As It Was.” It’s quite a ticket price to pay for one song but the body buzz is worth it. Over 2 Billion streams. I’m not the only one. It’s emotionally charged. I feel myself looking back to something that doesn’t exist anymore. Something lost in time perhaps. A friend. First kisses. My father. High School. Youth. Simplicity. Concerts I went to with my friends when we sang along to every song. 😔

As content as I am in the present and as much as I look forward to the future the past is un-returnable, and because of that, bittersweet. If a song allows the listener to apply said song to their world, to feel their own feels, the songwriter has done their job. 

Harry isn’t Bruce. Or the Beatles. Harry is Harry. And Harry was great. He showed 70,000 pink-hatted girls + myself a dazzling time. Nobody was disappointed. 

So thanks Harry and thanks Edinburgh. I appreciate you. Now where’s tram? I hope I can get myself home. 

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