On my recent birthday I took a stroll down memory lane and treated myself to a Roy Orbison concert; performed by a great tribute band called Wiley Ray & The Big O Band. They did an amazing performance of one of the great tenors and songwriters of all times. Roy opened for the Beatles in London, toured with the Traveling Wilburys (Bob Dylan, George Harrison, and Tom Petty), but I loved him most because my entire adolescence was spent in a chronic state of arousal slow dancing to those extraordinary high notes.
Thinking about his coming reminded me of a somewhat self-inflated patient I’d seen years ago, whose daughter was an opera star. The patient delighted in regaling me with her travels and dinners with operatic luminaries the world over, who she invariably called by their first names. Describing an evening with “Luciano”, she asked me who I thought was the greatest tenor in the world, and without hesitation responded, Roy Orbison. She was stunned, incomprehensibly muttering to herself… Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison? Until she laughed and acknowledged, “I am such a snob”.
Wiley was a ringer for Roy, wore a black wig and dark glasses, and his range included the stunning high notes. He was accompanied by a bassist, lead guitarist, drummer, keyboardist, and two fully-fleshed, backup singers in red satin dresses who weren’t quite the Supremes but fit in perfectly. I didn’t see many people under 65, and the nostalgia factor was on overload.
If you want to remind yourself of how intact your mind still is, go to a favorite oldies concert, you’ll remember every song on the playlist. People were tapping their feet, singing along, and when he sang Only the Lonely I was a teen holding the soft underbelly of Florence’s upper arm imagining it was her breast, and remembering how exciting it was to slow dance to the greatest tenor in the world.