It’s hard to believe that the original Parrothead is 60 years old:
Jimmy Buffett turned 60 this past Dec. 25, a day he undoubtedly spent in a lower latitude, in a meditative frame of mind, in close proximity to a tankard of Captain Morgan. At least that was the case with birthday number 50, which, as recounted in his autobiography A Pirate Looks At Fifty (1998), Buffett celebrated by piloting his private jet from the Cayman Islands to Costa Rica to Colombia and drinking copiously, while contemplating “spirituality” and his goals going forward: “Learn celestial navigation,” “Swim with dolphins,” “Start therapy.” Anyone who has heard a Jimmy Buffett record will know that therapy is totally unnecessary. Buffett has been writing and singing confessional songs for three decades, but he’s never shown the slightest sign of discontentment?shrugging away the world’s sadness, and his own indulgences, with an amused “I know it’s all my fault” while oozing over to the bar for another round.
And it sure seems to work out great for him. I’ve only been to one Buffett concert, so far, but it’s an experience unlike any other and the best word I can use to describe it is fun. That’s what his music is all about and that’s the atmosphere he projects. And it sure as heck seems to be working.
H/T: Outside The Beltway
