Damn, Kelly beat me to the punchline... ;^)
(For the record though, I guess I would've said something like, "Hey, I'd probably puke too if I found myself at a Cher concert - wouldn't you?" Obviously, the woman just possesses some latent good taste.)
Still, I think Cfb's on to something else here: It's not the bass, it's not the volume, it's not a male or female thing - it's the mind-twistingly scary plastic surgery! Get within too close a range of Cher at just the wrong instant in her living-on-borrowed-time existence, and something other than your own throw-up might splatter your shoes when that job finally lets go...
(But you know, I cannot tell a lie, Cher will still always be cool to me. Just toss your hair, lick your lip, pull up your fur vest, throw on your old copy of "I Got You Babe", and remember a more innocent time. She was tough, she was babelicious, she wore striped jeans with fringed suede boots, gazed up with Cleopatra eyes from under those perfectly straight long black locks - and she had Sonny Bono writing the tunes and producing at his Phil Spector meets Jack Nitzsche best. Try to forget that he became a Republican and she became a vocoder-abusing, sequin-hoarding geriatric mannequin. Just don't lose yourself in the reverie and ski into a tree...)
(For the record though, I guess I would've said something like, "Hey, I'd probably puke too if I found myself at a Cher concert - wouldn't you?" Obviously, the woman just possesses some latent good taste.)
Still, I think Cfb's on to something else here: It's not the bass, it's not the volume, it's not a male or female thing - it's the mind-twistingly scary plastic surgery! Get within too close a range of Cher at just the wrong instant in her living-on-borrowed-time existence, and something other than your own throw-up might splatter your shoes when that job finally lets go...
(But you know, I cannot tell a lie, Cher will still always be cool to me. Just toss your hair, lick your lip, pull up your fur vest, throw on your old copy of "I Got You Babe", and remember a more innocent time. She was tough, she was babelicious, she wore striped jeans with fringed suede boots, gazed up with Cleopatra eyes from under those perfectly straight long black locks - and she had Sonny Bono writing the tunes and producing at his Phil Spector meets Jack Nitzsche best. Try to forget that he became a Republican and she became a vocoder-abusing, sequin-hoarding geriatric mannequin. Just don't lose yourself in the reverie and ski into a tree...)