I went to see Extreme on Tuesday night at the Enmore Theatre.
They were very good. Uncomfortably loud. But very good. Almost 2 hours on stage, an excellent set, and of course… Nuno.
I’ve actually seen Extreme before. Back in 1993 I went to see them with my best friend Mal, and another friend. Mal and I occasionally reminisce about the concert, even after all these decades. We recall how good Extreme were, and even little things like the time Nuno kicked his mic back around because it was causing feedback.
Mal was supposed to be at the concert this past week (in fact he’d been the one who organised the tickets) but unfortunately work commitments had him caught overseas.
It made me accutely aware of the difference between an experience, and a shared experience.
It’s unlikely I’ll remember this 2023 concert with the same fondness I recall the one from 1993. Because it wasn’t a shared experience. There’s no real reliving of the moments. Nothing attached to the time and date.
It’s an interesting point to ponder. Especially as I grow older, and perhaps reflect on the past more.
What are the things we really cherish? Is it the event, or who we were there with?
I wouldn’t say I’m a seasoned traveler, but of the trips I’ve taken over the years for both work and personal, the ones I remember most are the times Michele and I lived in Zurich and traveled around Paris. Much more so than the work travel to China, NZ, Germany, Italy, US, UK etc over the years.
Not forgotten necessarily, but not well remembered.
It’s said that life is just the sum total of our experiences, but the cup of life overflows based on the shared ones.
