sometimes i wonder if it's all worthwhile...
it's not news that going to concerts is an imposition on my socially delicate (or indelicate) nature. all the things i hate congeal in front of the stage: dancing, people who feel empowered by music sing along, and lot of isgusting hair flying around (whether it's in the form of swinging dreadlocks that smell and look like dead puppies, or some hipster chick's horsey ponytail). there have also been instances of standing behind the one guy who isn't wearing deodorant, and of course the usual couples who assume the metronome dance (guy stands behind girl, wraps his arms around her and they swing left to right from the waist in unison. like a metronome. you get it...)
concert #1 - weakerthans reunion tour:
so distracted by horrible hippies around us, i remember all of ten seconds of song. like cats, the dreadlocked, patchouli sects of the college can sense i don't like them. i am of course the only person at this concert who is smushed between three dreadlocked, dancing freaks. gross. also a girl who danced "like she's being remote controlled by aliens."
concert #2 - final fantasy:
we knew it would be a hipster's wet dream, and sure enough the combination of black and white striped shirts crowded in one area kind of had an MC Escher effect... pressing closer to the stage it was also the dream of one guy who didn't wear deodorant (yeah that's the one...gross). we finally make our way beyond him, to the side, and i get stuck behind a guy who shifts from left to right so drastically that i have to swing in reverse just to see anything. there was less singing to the difficult-to-follow lyrics, but man oh man.
concert #3 - sunset rubdown:
last night - somewhat nightmareish.
broken city fills up with fans and it gets extremely hot, stuffy, crowded and the air was quickly depleted of all usable oxygen; stripped down to a dizzying form of warm grandmother-smelling gas by the time it got to our needy little lungs.
it also started extremely late. despite being told our band would probably take the stage some time around 10:30, the first of two opening bands began at 10. sunset rubdown didn't take the stage until about midnight. the first two were not enjoyable and the lead singer of the first really made me concerned for his vocal chords. i really want to make that man some soothing chammomile tea and stress the virtues of proper phrasing. we all know what happened to bob dylan.
and there we were, standing still in a sea of hipsters dancing like someone was attempting to re-animate their corpses through the use of significant volts of electricity. one girl especially, whose pony-tail kept hitting me in the face, had a freakishly stiled mechanical twitch that tossed her boobs around like she was some government robot with one purpose: fierce, painful jiggle-ry as a result of rapid, stiff side-to-side jerks and wrenching motions.
also noteworthy that the guy in front of me was dancing so spastically that it a) felt like he was humping me with his ass, and b) would inevitably lead to a midnight run to the hospital for skull collisions.
there are also the very personal impositions. example: a horrible little photographer who kept budging in front of us. she and the robotic jiggle-tron were in cahoots. the robot convinced her we would let her through if she asked nicely. why? because she has a camera? god no. i saw her cheesy motion-blur band photography. that was not happening. she asks if she can nudge in front and starts moving like we've already agreed.
i say, whoa... wait just a second. does your camera have a zoom lense?
um...no. well kind of but not really.
well. that's not our problem.
we go back to watching while she stands there looking in disbelief at the jiggle-tron.
honestly, the primary function of a concert is to provide music to attendees. not to provide a crappy photo portfolio to pathetic first year photo students. i think i had an easier time than rhianna, for once. usually she's the one half-singing and swaying while i stand there with my arms folded, scowling at people... this time it was half the opposite. not that i wasn't standing there with my arms folded, not that i was singing (i wasn't), but she was particularly complaintive and miserable.
we both have flashes where we strongly consider just staying home and playing albums very loudly...
concert #1 - weakerthans reunion tour:
so distracted by horrible hippies around us, i remember all of ten seconds of song. like cats, the dreadlocked, patchouli sects of the college can sense i don't like them. i am of course the only person at this concert who is smushed between three dreadlocked, dancing freaks. gross. also a girl who danced "like she's being remote controlled by aliens."
concert #2 - final fantasy:
we knew it would be a hipster's wet dream, and sure enough the combination of black and white striped shirts crowded in one area kind of had an MC Escher effect... pressing closer to the stage it was also the dream of one guy who didn't wear deodorant (yeah that's the one...gross). we finally make our way beyond him, to the side, and i get stuck behind a guy who shifts from left to right so drastically that i have to swing in reverse just to see anything. there was less singing to the difficult-to-follow lyrics, but man oh man.
concert #3 - sunset rubdown:
last night - somewhat nightmareish.
broken city fills up with fans and it gets extremely hot, stuffy, crowded and the air was quickly depleted of all usable oxygen; stripped down to a dizzying form of warm grandmother-smelling gas by the time it got to our needy little lungs.
it also started extremely late. despite being told our band would probably take the stage some time around 10:30, the first of two opening bands began at 10. sunset rubdown didn't take the stage until about midnight. the first two were not enjoyable and the lead singer of the first really made me concerned for his vocal chords. i really want to make that man some soothing chammomile tea and stress the virtues of proper phrasing. we all know what happened to bob dylan.
and there we were, standing still in a sea of hipsters dancing like someone was attempting to re-animate their corpses through the use of significant volts of electricity. one girl especially, whose pony-tail kept hitting me in the face, had a freakishly stiled mechanical twitch that tossed her boobs around like she was some government robot with one purpose: fierce, painful jiggle-ry as a result of rapid, stiff side-to-side jerks and wrenching motions.
also noteworthy that the guy in front of me was dancing so spastically that it a) felt like he was humping me with his ass, and b) would inevitably lead to a midnight run to the hospital for skull collisions.
there are also the very personal impositions. example: a horrible little photographer who kept budging in front of us. she and the robotic jiggle-tron were in cahoots. the robot convinced her we would let her through if she asked nicely. why? because she has a camera? god no. i saw her cheesy motion-blur band photography. that was not happening. she asks if she can nudge in front and starts moving like we've already agreed.
i say, whoa... wait just a second. does your camera have a zoom lense?
um...no. well kind of but not really.
well. that's not our problem.
we go back to watching while she stands there looking in disbelief at the jiggle-tron.
honestly, the primary function of a concert is to provide music to attendees. not to provide a crappy photo portfolio to pathetic first year photo students. i think i had an easier time than rhianna, for once. usually she's the one half-singing and swaying while i stand there with my arms folded, scowling at people... this time it was half the opposite. not that i wasn't standing there with my arms folded, not that i was singing (i wasn't), but she was particularly complaintive and miserable.
we both have flashes where we strongly consider just staying home and playing albums very loudly...
posted by kaylen at 10:03 AM
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