Postmodern Jukebox at the Wilbur, Tuesday, January 30

1) I met my friend Carl at Jacob Wirth for dinner before the concert. I'd wanted to go there because it's up for sale. "The last time I was here," he said, "they had sawdust on the floor." "That was a LONG time ago!" I answered. I've never once seen sawdust on the floor there, in all these years.

2) After the very, very rich dinner I enjoyed on Sunday night, I bypassed all the schnitzels and wursts and whatnot and had a Cobb salad. At least I washed it down with a couple Old Speckled Hen beers.

3) And then off across the icy-cold streets to the Wilbur, where the staff was loudly directing people in the front of the theatres to I.D. check (but only if you were drinking), bag check, etc. They've clearly dealt with rowdy crowds before.

4) Should've brought my Tyrolean mountain gear for use on the steep stone stairs to the balcony - and then again for the deep steps going down the balcony. Third row left seats, two in from the aisle.

5) Fashion influences in the crowd included Pink; one sophisticated young woman in a polka-dot sundress with crinoline and shoulder tattoo, for instance.

6) Finalmente, the lights went down and the noise went UP! Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox took the stage for a fantastic evening of music (and it was) . . . and without Scott Bradlee. Did I miss a memo?

7)  But one after another the restyled hits kept coming, and now, from the safety and comfort of my own bed, I couldn't tell you what they sang . . . but it was all fantastic.

8) For me, of course, the real reason to be there was Olivia Kuper Harris - and she delivered, with her hair in a 1940s pompadour with curls trailing down the back, a succession of fab frocks, and (you can hear me smiling, can't you?) a start-slow-then-freak-out rendition of her theme song with PMJ, Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night." In contrast to the video, here she interacted with the musicians, and shook up the style even more. Loved it all.

9) The one thing for the Wilbur balcony is that at least there's more leg room than at the Colonial . . . perhaps an entire quarter-inch more. Call me an old fart (you wouldn't be the first), but after awhile, I thought "My God, my bum can't take any more of this concert."

10) And then just when I thought we could go home, they all came back for an encore . . . and invited a couple on stage. And the guy in the couple proposed to the woman! And I thought "Oh my God, what if she says no?!" But she didn't, thank goodness. So let's hear it for true love!

11) And then two or three more encores, and finally we could scale the heights back down to the street. WOW. WHAT a night!

12) Walking to the T, I said to Carl, "Now, if I was gonna be a groupie or something, I might head to the bar at Jacob Wirth to see if they show up." But I was just far too drained.

13) Thank you, Oldest Nephew Who Must Not Be Tagged, for introducing me to this wonderful new (to me) group of musicians. #loving