Spellbound

When Kate asked me if I wanted to watch Imogen Heap live in Singapore, I hesitated.

Up to that point I had only heard of her and listened to a few of her songs once or twice. I couldn't accurately call myself a fan. After a few seconds, I figured "Who cares?" and told Kate I would love to buy tickets from her.

It turned out to be one of the best impulse purchases I had ever made, in a long history of impulse purchases that include multiple pairs of ill-fitting shoes, unwatched DVDs, hideous statement tees from Landmark, and one too many chocolate bars at supermarket checkout counters.

Kate had bought a block for second-row seats and was flying in from Manila for the concert. The tickets were not cheap -- $140 each for Marlon and me -- and as the concert date neared I wondered if I should be listening to Imogen (or Immi, as Kate lovingly called her) more to familiarize myself with her music.

Then I thought of two things. The first was my thought bubble when I saw a particularly annoying acquaintance announce on Facebook that he had great seats for the Coldplay concert -- and that he had to rush out to buy and finish listening to all of their albums in time for the show. My thought bubble: Loserrrrr!

The second thing I thought of was that I had stopped going to concerts to discover great music. Ticket prices can be so prohibitive sometimes that we only spend on acts that we are huge fans of and thus will fail to disappoint us... music that is sure to be bankable, "worth it", safe. What about great acts that we've never even heard of? Some of the music I love to this day are from artists I had never heard of till I caught them live. Take Rajaton, for example: I can't believe I would never have heard of them if I hadn't been performing after them in Cork, Ireland. They were totally misplaced in a choral festival, but they rocked my socks and I've been a fan for ten (TEN!!!!!) years now. Same goes for Club For Five.

So I left Imogen Heap alone and unplayed until Monday night. Whereupon she completely spellbound, entranced, delighted, tickled, enchanted, haunted and moved me.

With her Attack of the Forty Foot Woman dress (and height)...

Her feathered fascinator, her bouffant hair, her raccoon brooches...

Her whimsy, her charm, her candor, her wit, her lovely Bri'ish accent, her stuffed bird...

Her miked-up wrists, her tinkling bells...

Her whistling wineglass...

Her Perspex piano...

Her singing whirly vacuum tube...

Her looper and glittery synth keyboard...

Her absolute insistence on teaching the audience a round song (the harmonies for "Just for Now") and her unflagging determination to conduct it while singing herself...

And above all, by her music, and her artistry. I don't exaggerate when I say that this is one of the best concerts I've watched in a long, long, long time.

Marlon rarely has very strong emotional reactions to music, but when Immi played Between Sheets, he hugged me tight and whispered, "This is how I feel about you. I don't think I've ever heard a song that captured it so well." Naturally, I cried.

You and me between the sheets
It just doesn't get better than this
The many windswept yellow stickies of my mind
Are the molten emotional front line
I couldn't care less I'm transfixed in this absolute bliss
Sweet sleepless, tumbling night
Oh, and the morning on the your skin and loved up light
Tracing patterns in the maze of your back
Softly, softly the goose bumps like that
And then a kiss...
Maybe another,
And another one

When we got home, he insisted I download it, that we listen to it again, and could it please be officially our song. That really surprised me. Naturally, I agreed.