On Friday, I got to see Donovan for free (from winning that costume contest) and I brought a friend with me. We decided to meet out in front of the theater, and my goodness, it looked like I'd be rocking out with my parents and their peers all night. The theater was almost full, and the crowd was very, very enthusiastic. Donovan had just two backing musicians; a bongo player and an upright-bass player. Donovan was, well, Donovan: He wore all black, has long hair (kind of mullet-y), has that dreamy Irish/Scottish accent, and still talks like he's a sort of mystical elven/Viking love god. A couple of times his back-up musicians left the stage and Donovan sat cross-legged on this little platform covered with a rug he called his "magic carpet."

At first I was delighted at how much he embodied the whole hippie love and mysticism aesthetic -- I mean, everyone knows Donovan is the real deal, the original model. But then, and I almost hate to say it, but he started reminded me a little of Will Ferrell's tweedy bearded hippie professor character who can't stop talking about sex with his beloved. I must admit that I snickered a couple of times. For instance, Donovan spoke rapturously for five minutes about his guitar named Kelly, all the while stroking and caressing the guitar's body and neck. Apparently though the guitar was a mere ten years old, after he and "she" had written a love song together (which he played for us), she would "play anything." Gross.

The audience ate it up, however. There was a moment of excitement when a very high and/or drunk young woman cimbed up on stage between two songs and walked over to Donovan and kissed him (he kissed back, and was very laid back about the whole thing). A crew member quickly steered her backstage. After each and every song, random people throughout the audience would pop up and give personal standing ovations. Everyone sang along to every song, which Donovan encouraged. Though me and my friends felt like the show wouldn't have seemed out of place at a state fair, everyone around us was clapping and singing and hooting with glee. Donovan was loving it all. The fake encore was, of course, Mellow Yellow, and he had us sing the horn section (fun, but having actual horns would have been amazing).

Later that night, I enjoyed the Love tribute show at the Elevens more: The songs were better, there was a full band, and they sounded great. Yay, Love tribute band!