This world has lost its glory

I went to a Bee Gees concert two days ago. Alone.

Nobody in the newsroom seemed to care about Bee Gees. And they are not that young -- most of us are in the late 20s or early 30s, they must all know those I started A Joke, How Deep is Your Love or Massachusetts hits.

At least Meeh, the quiet Thai guy who does graphic said he would bring his mom, and asked me to get a ticket. So I ended up sitting next to his mom, a short, also quiet woman. I did most of the talking in our conversation, she listened and smiled kindly. It was a decent crowd of mostly people in their middle 40s and 50s, not my generation's music. 5 minutes before the show began, the crowd stood up -- some VIP and entourage have just entered the auditorium. I didn't stand up. I told Meeh's mom I couldn't care less, and she seemed to feel the same way. "I don't care either," she said. "They always cause traffic." She is kind of cool.

I felt uncomforably lost -- but then what is my generation kind of music? I listen to almost everything, from Beethoven, Bach, Mozart to jazz to boy band pop and Britney Spear, from world music compilations to American hip hop and Eminem.

Bee Gees is not Bee Gees anymore, anyway. Only Robin Gibbs and a group of backup singers. Robin's voice has lost its strength, he himself looked like he would break down from exhaustion. But the crowd was nice to him. There was a weird kind of energy -- it's not the spontaneous burst you would see among young people in a concert, like the one I saw few day earlier in a rock concert. This energy comes from people who know youth is escaping them, wanting to get it back with the songs that remind them of those good old days, when they are young and foolish, their memories are probably full of I started a Joke and Stayin Alive...

"This world has lost its glory, it's time to start a brand new story now, my love."

That was all in my mind when I left the concert of the 60's. Let's start a brand new story now.