We're going to see Billy Joel in Madison Square Garden in April, and he's up there in years too. In fact, every time I hear more than three Billy Joel songs in a row on the radio, I assume it's in tribute and that he's dead.
My first rock and roll concert was Billy Joel, and I went with Wallis Payne, whose mom drove us and stayed on the sidelines. It was for the Innocent Man tour and I bought a concert shirt, the kind with the long thin sleeves under a Flashdance type sweatshirt. I cannot document this moment for you because we did not have Instagram then and so there were no selfies of me and Wallis with our heavily hair sprayed and feathered hair, both in dorky round glasses with slightly pink frames and Bonnie Bell lip gloss. We got all the way up to the top of the stage and I touched his microphone stand, you guys. I thought it not impossible that Billy Joel, in his mid-thirties, several times divorced, might, MIGHT notice me, a 14 year old ninth grader with sausage roll bangs and eyes obscured by thick lenses, and fall in love with me. I could inspire a song, something that would involve the alluring scent of Aqua Net hair spray and Love's Baby soft perfume.