Some context: Several years ago we took a long roadtrip to the Far North in a car that only had a cassette player, a tape of Maori classics, and Michael Bolton's greatest hits. We heard "I Said I Loved You But I Lied" so many times through those cheap treble-heavy speakers that it left a permanent mark, and it's continued to find its way into our music rotations since, for better or worse.

Surprise tickets C/o RGK. Vocal fireworks C/o The Man Himself.

Devastatingly accurate question from a family member: "Was the audience full of perspiring, heavily-perfumed perimenopausal women?"