3 Mulligans

My only opportunity to see King Crimson was when they played the Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1982.  The performance itself was incredible, and like their albums from the ’70s, they continued to push against the boundaries where Rock stopped.  It was an enjoyable night of great live music.  However, the other reason for which this night will be remembered came in an unexpected highlight after the show.  Seeing that several people were crowded around the backstage entrance, I wondered, “Was the band really going to walk through that door?  Unarmed?”  Eventually, Adrian Belew stepped out, but he couldn’t get far.  Still, he was gracious with his time, told funny stories, and signed a variety of items.  Then, Bill Bruford appeared.  He was at least able to get about twenty feet away before a small mob swarmed in, yet I couldn’t help but notice his reaction, seeming weary of having to go through the motions once again.  Not wanting to be a part of the frenzy called, “Hey, can you sign this?” I distanced myself and was patient.  As the excitement wound down and everyone else had stepped away, I approached him, extended my hand and said, “I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your playing tonight.”  He looked at me, shook my hand and said, “Thanks.  I appreciate that.”  He was dedicated to giving everyone there a slice of his time but it felt like he truly appreciated hearing a slightly different approach.  Then, I watched them both simply walk away in separate directions, as nonchalantly as if they lived nearby.

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