But I hear the sound of the air conditioner (thankfully--I live in Louisiana and Hell is cooler in July). I hear a few venue staffers walking to and fro, chatting to each other and laughing. I hear the sound of my own typing.
It is eerily quiet.
This is my usual routine as house photographer for the two SMG venue properties in my region. I show up early. I field specific instruction. And I wait. It is a pensive and reflective time for me.
I am quite literally living one of my lifelong dreams, to photograph rock stars, just like Linda McCartney and Annie Leibovitz. I am able to do this because good people in the right positions know me and trust me to do my job and play by the rules, and to deliver quality photos on time that make them look good. It's what I do.
But y'all....
This is extraordinary and commonplace all at the same time. So much so that it amuses me. I prefer to arrive early and bring work with me. I take my place in the quiet of the conference room and set up my desk. I usually bring a drink and a snack because what takes me 9 minutes to photograph takes sometimes 3 hours to wait out. I chit chat with my friends on staff, catch up on the latest, and basically chill.
Then, all of a sudden, I get the word from my handlers that it's time to roll. This moment always has a highly urgent, charged, and intense feel to it. I grab the camera I have already prepped and readied for the assignment and follow closely behind my handlers. I must be escorted throughout the facility and there are strict rules that are different with every entertainer's rider about where, what, and how long I can shoot.
Once we enter the arena, I usually take long glances across the sea of faces to see if I recognize friends among the crowd. Almost every time, I see a hand fiercely waving and my face breaks into a warm smile to greet the friendly face staring back at me. This is a happy place where people are excited about what they are about to see. And regardless of the artist, I'm excited, too, because I know what a privilege it is to be there and have the opportunity to capture these moments. I am grateful for each of them.
As we take position for shooting, there is yet another wait for the lights to dim and the show to begin. The quiet of the conference room is replaced with the low roar of an expectant crowd that crescendos into a raging thunderous applause of claps and screams as the artist takes the stage. I'm in a fever to capture as many quality shots as I can, often from the center of the arena with a telephoto zoom lens that I am praying will give me shots that feel so much closer than I actually am. It is a frenzy of shutter clicks and light checks to make sure my settings are on target and my images are sharp. In most cases, I have three full songs to capture--that's like nine minutes.
For Garth, I have one song, barely 3 minutes. It is maddening.
Too soon, I feel the leg tap I am expecting from up on my step stool and quickly disengage, gather myself, and follow behind the escorts back to the conference room.
It's all over. I've grabbed 206 shots. Here are a couple:
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