Insert Foot is ready for Jeff Tweedy, his first concert in nearly two years. Original photo: Karen Goldman/STAFF.

I’m going to my first concert in two years on Monday, which is exciting, if not a little scary. But first I need to check and see if the coast is clear.

OK, good: Nobody’s hysterically screaming how the 13-minute Super Bowl halftime show last weekend was the GREATEST LIVE PERFORMANCE IN ALL OF EARTH’S HISTORY and SEE HOW WE MIDDLE-AGED GEN X PEOPLE GOT IT DONE BACK IN THE DAY. And get your 5G Instacrypto NFTs off my lawn.

Things have finally quieted down since last week. Like most years, we were bought and sold for a few days of overreaction by Pepsi and the NFL. Me too, for as bad as some of the opinions were, it was just as annoying to see people (like me) spend so much time telling people they were wrong.

I guess I still am … (looks embarrassed for a second, then forgets what he was talking about.)

There are a lot of people out there my age who accidentally saw their driver’s license recently and thought “Oh, wow … I’m not supposed to be experiencing new things because people are so much closer to death at my age. Do you think it’s still OK to play pickleball?”

What is really OK is to remember the ’90s was a great time for those of us in our 20s back then. It was an amazing time for music. We had fun. Now we have grandkids (well, you might). It doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun, COVID-hesitation aside.

I was going to offer even more extensive opinions on the Super Bowl halftime show until I realized I’m just perpetuating something I criticized others for doing. But since I’m a confessed hypocrite, real quick: It was an entertaining SB halftime show, but not the best ever. And everyone playing any stadium or area the past 20 years pipes in backing tracks, so get off the high horse that took off without you in 2002 and … am I forgetting anything?

Right. Let’s stop being so impressed by the last semi-exciting thing we’ve seen and race to proclaim it the best ever. It’s silly. The good news is we now can confirm rap music didn’t send America straight to hell after all. We’re even kind of nostalgic for it, which is kind of nice.

But, yes, that was one impressive, manipulative NFL brainwash, and we fell for it. “Look, the NFL doesn’t have a race problem. They even like Martha Stewart’s husband, Snoop Dogg!”

It’s time to get out of the house.

That’s why I’m proud to announce I’m considering leaving my bedroom for the first time in two years to see Jeff Tweedy on Monday at the Fillmore. It will be my first review of a show since the first days of COVID, when I watched in horror as Gene Simmons licked everyone in the first three rows during the 13th KISS farewell tour.

Why is Tweedy the one to get me back in the swing of live music again? Because he’s one of the defining songwriters of his generation; his band, Wilco, is one of the best things to happen to American music; and I just had an argument with someone about how great he is (The Super Bowl show he’ll never be asked to do will undoubtedly be THE BEST IMAGINARY SUPER BOWL HALFTME 13-MINUTE-PERFORMANCE THAT EVER HAPPENNED).

I love Tweedy’s music, and it’s time to get back to loving live music. I’m honestly a little weary about going, and I don’t think it’s necessarily because of COVID, which I‘ve already had (along with all seven shots or whatever). It’s just not very easy to go out anymore. It’ll pass, but I kind of feel like I’ve been taking a 24-month nap and woke up to discover the world is a lot noisier than I remembered. It’s become way too easy, and safe, to stay home and watch the world through Netflx.

Just try to remember that, as the masks (again, at least until the next horrifying sci-fi mutation) come off, the weather warms up, and even the prickliest of COVID-paranoids start migrating back to real life, we all could use some breathing space. I’ll try to be nice if you will, At least until next year’s Super Bowl.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.