They might be AWESOME
Jim and I had a dinner date planned for tonight (speaking in past tense. It's still tonight, but the date is over and I'm in the retelling mode so it's past tense). When he got home at 4:30, he proposed a change in plans. Rather than doing what we had planned, he wondered if perhaps I wanted to go to First Avenue to see They Might Be Giants?
!!!!
DUH! You should have seen my dance of glee and joy and excitement! I am SO GLAD I didn't have to babysit this evening!
I've never been to First Avenue nightclub--and I've lived here how many years?
Then the insecurity started to set in. I'm a housewife! I'm over, uh, thirty! I'm not thin and my wardrobe lacks panache and something called "style." My hair had already pretty much gone to bed and could not be roused to do anything but droop listlessly over my ears. I don't go clubbing ever. I don't know the rules of going to a nightclub! But I pummeled my insecurity into the back of the closet with the forgotten pillows, the nebulizer machine, and a pile of worn out shoes, I put on my oxblood heels (yes I wore heels to a place where I'd be standing for several hours) and a bracelet that I hope looked classy. I grabbed my "vintage" coat (the one that Matt happily, and what he thought kindly, told me that I looked like a couch in). I envisioned bouncers screening potential concert-goers and figured that wearing that green patterned coat with the faux fur collar would be my ticket in.
Thank goodness the only requirement to get in was to bring a friend named Andrew Jackson (a bit o' green). Jim and I found spots near the back of the dance floor. We were there nearly two hours early, but the cement half wall was already taken and the floor was 2/3 full.
And finally the concert began! I was close enough to see both Johns' faces! Linnell and Flansburgh RIGHT THERE, not thirty feet away!
And they were going to do the WHOLE Flood album! Not necessarily in sequence, but STILL! The WHOLE album! My favorite one! Particle Man, Istanbul (not Constantinople), Birdhouse in Your Soul, We Want a Rock, Your Racist Friend, Hot Cha, Whistling in the Dark, Lucky Ball and Chain! Oh I was in happy land!
And they were loud! The crowd was loud right back at them. I sang every word I that I could and I couldn't hear myself. The bass line was loud enough to rearrange your internal organs. The drum beat was musical CPR. You could almost see the sound vibrations pass through the foggy air (no smoking indoors, THANK GOODNESS. It was smoke from the fog machine).
Too bad I had to stand behind the biggest guy in the room. Flansburgh mentioned that this was probably the tallest audience they've seen on their tour. It was probably a joke but nonetheless I felt practically little-peopleian. This is why I wore my three-inch heels--so I would have some chance of seeing the stage among the herd of gargantuan Vikings, Swedes, Danes, and smattering of Germans that populate the Minnesotan Prairie. When the concert finally began, the Giant Man was off to the side, but gradually, like the Sahara encroaching on Central Africa, he moved in front of me. And my circle of personal space went the way of the dinosaur. I was forced to make bodily contact with him more than once and I nearly died.
But even the pretend claustrophobia stemming from being jammed in with a crowd of people who all had a good 6 inches at least on me (except Jim, who was jammed up between me and a garbage can) couldn't dampen the enthusiasm I had for singing along with a bunch of songs that I know backward and forward. All of us sang. It was like the alt-rock version of a Messiah sing-a-long.
Sadly, cameras were verboten so I have no pictorial evidence of the concert. So you'll have to imagine me dancing along with nearly a large town's worth of people.
For a few hours, I forgot the dumpiness, the overweightness, the dowdiness, the awkwardness and enjoyed being at a hip downtown music club, dancing and singing like I was a part of an "in" crowd. After the show, I passed by glass window and the illusion was shattered, but for a little while, I forgot my insecurities. It was worth it.
My feet hurt at the end of the night, but I smiled all the way home. Jim and I held hands from time to time during the concert. We need to enjoy live music more often.
!!!!
DUH! You should have seen my dance of glee and joy and excitement! I am SO GLAD I didn't have to babysit this evening!
I've never been to First Avenue nightclub--and I've lived here how many years?
Then the insecurity started to set in. I'm a housewife! I'm over, uh, thirty! I'm not thin and my wardrobe lacks panache and something called "style." My hair had already pretty much gone to bed and could not be roused to do anything but droop listlessly over my ears. I don't go clubbing ever. I don't know the rules of going to a nightclub! But I pummeled my insecurity into the back of the closet with the forgotten pillows, the nebulizer machine, and a pile of worn out shoes, I put on my oxblood heels (yes I wore heels to a place where I'd be standing for several hours) and a bracelet that I hope looked classy. I grabbed my "vintage" coat (the one that Matt happily, and what he thought kindly, told me that I looked like a couch in). I envisioned bouncers screening potential concert-goers and figured that wearing that green patterned coat with the faux fur collar would be my ticket in.
Thank goodness the only requirement to get in was to bring a friend named Andrew Jackson (a bit o' green). Jim and I found spots near the back of the dance floor. We were there nearly two hours early, but the cement half wall was already taken and the floor was 2/3 full.
And finally the concert began! I was close enough to see both Johns' faces! Linnell and Flansburgh RIGHT THERE, not thirty feet away!
And they were going to do the WHOLE Flood album! Not necessarily in sequence, but STILL! The WHOLE album! My favorite one! Particle Man, Istanbul (not Constantinople), Birdhouse in Your Soul, We Want a Rock, Your Racist Friend, Hot Cha, Whistling in the Dark, Lucky Ball and Chain! Oh I was in happy land!
And they were loud! The crowd was loud right back at them. I sang every word I that I could and I couldn't hear myself. The bass line was loud enough to rearrange your internal organs. The drum beat was musical CPR. You could almost see the sound vibrations pass through the foggy air (no smoking indoors, THANK GOODNESS. It was smoke from the fog machine).
Too bad I had to stand behind the biggest guy in the room. Flansburgh mentioned that this was probably the tallest audience they've seen on their tour. It was probably a joke but nonetheless I felt practically little-peopleian. This is why I wore my three-inch heels--so I would have some chance of seeing the stage among the herd of gargantuan Vikings, Swedes, Danes, and smattering of Germans that populate the Minnesotan Prairie. When the concert finally began, the Giant Man was off to the side, but gradually, like the Sahara encroaching on Central Africa, he moved in front of me. And my circle of personal space went the way of the dinosaur. I was forced to make bodily contact with him more than once and I nearly died.
But even the pretend claustrophobia stemming from being jammed in with a crowd of people who all had a good 6 inches at least on me (except Jim, who was jammed up between me and a garbage can) couldn't dampen the enthusiasm I had for singing along with a bunch of songs that I know backward and forward. All of us sang. It was like the alt-rock version of a Messiah sing-a-long.
Sadly, cameras were verboten so I have no pictorial evidence of the concert. So you'll have to imagine me dancing along with nearly a large town's worth of people.
For a few hours, I forgot the dumpiness, the overweightness, the dowdiness, the awkwardness and enjoyed being at a hip downtown music club, dancing and singing like I was a part of an "in" crowd. After the show, I passed by glass window and the illusion was shattered, but for a little while, I forgot my insecurities. It was worth it.
My feet hurt at the end of the night, but I smiled all the way home. Jim and I held hands from time to time during the concert. We need to enjoy live music more often.
Comments
I'm glad you had fun! And who cares about the perceived dowdiness? Were you comfortable? Did you enjoy yourself? Then that's all that matters. (From what I've heard, the Johns are pretty dowdy themselves....)
Now my WV is: Provo