 ©1999-1999 ICFTP What're you, kidding? |
5 May 1999:
Saw the Dave Matthews Band perform last night.
Blah.
Eight billion screaming fifteen year old girls in tight shirts and blank stares.
Did I mention screaming?
The lights went off.
They screamed.
The lights came on.
They screamed.
Dave Matthews muttered something incomprehensible into the mic.
They screamed.
He strummed a chord.
Guess what. They screamed.
The band was great. They played every one of their songs that I've heard on the radio, and even one or two of the other songs on their four or five albums worth of material. They played the songs exactly the way they play them on the radio. Note for note.
Yay. I paid $37 to listen to my DMB cd on a shitty sound system, while surrounded by thousands of people I wouldn't have wanted in my living room. Woopee.
The band could've been performing in any town, anywhere. They obviously didn't give a fuck about the thousands of screaming teenagers, and who could blame them? What could they possibly have in common with these people? They smiled and talked with each other, but said maybe eight words to the audience. Again, who can blame them? If someone screams their lungs out because you clear your throat, are they likely to have anything interesting to contribute to a conversation?
I don't understand the attraction. Why do thousands of people travel from all over to hear this music, the same songs they hear all day, every day, on the radio, blandly played to a set script? I read some concert reviews, and even the most enthusiastic person, the girl who said she danced until she had shin splints, mentioned that Matthews rarely interacted with the crowd. But she didn't care.
NO ONE in the band fucked up ONCE. No broken strings. NOT A SINGLE WRONG NOTE. Does this mean that they are incredibly competent musicians, or does it mean that they weren't pushing themselves even the least little bit?
The band wasn't getting anything from the audience. I don't think the majority of the audience noticed. The music was familiar, and they were stoned, and they were surrounded by their screaming teeny-bopper friends. Guess that's all they needed.
Hey, who am I to criticize someone who needs so little to be happy? I've always said that the easily amused stay entertained.
6 May 1999:
So how many of you were wondering when the hell I'd get back to talking about cheerfull things?
Halt thy wondering grey matter, the wait it over! I give you:
A Night Out On The Town With Great Folks From Work!
Ta-Da!
Went downtown last night to the grand opening of L'Estrade, a new comedy club on Dauphin Street. Didn't really know what to expect, but I was impressed. The place is beautiful, all brick and ancient wood, brass rails and red leather booths.
Walked in with my date, Cathy from Denson/Reed. First stop was to say hi and shake hands with the Mayor (yeah, yeah, shut up, I still get a kick out of that) and then we found our booth. Denson/Reed handled all the promo and PR work for the club's grand opening, so Tad and Missy were there with Missy's boyfriend Andy. Mike Payne, owner of Gwin's Copy Graphics and all around totally incredibly nice and wonderful cool-type person, was also there. I immediately attacked Mike's hotwings while we waited for the beer to get arrive.
We munched on wings and quesadillas and slurped beer while we waited for the show to start. I was really not expecting much from the opening comedian, but he was great... a very southern dude named John Floyd. Spoke slow, with an exaggerated southern accent, and had me laughing the whole show.
I thought that was pretty good, considering that I've felt like total depressed shit since Derby Day.
After he was done, Killer Beaz came on, and whatta ya know? He was funny too! Wa-hoo! Save Up!
So I spent a couple of hours surrounded by great people, with a steady flow of Becks, and laughed my ass off. Mike and Missy laughed even harder than I did, and it is impossible not to laugh when they're laughing. Missy has a wonderful, hearty laugh that makes you think she's just enjoying the living hell out of life. Good therapy, my friends, good therapy.
We set up a camera and interviewed people as they came out. Even got a city councilman. Everyone seemed to dig the place, and I really hope it takes off. It's a classy joint, and more entertainment downtown is a good thing.
Went to Sammy's afterwards.
What can I say? Yum! How does Mike do it? The strippers LOVED him! One chick came up to me and hinted that she wanted the dollar I had... so I hinted back that she should take off some more clothes first... so everyone at the table started hecklin' me and telling me not to be such a cheapskate. So I slipped the dollar under her garter and told her "Sorry darlin', I'm just a tease at heart." She looked down at me and said "Guess we've got somethin' in common then," and flounced away to take the rest of her clothes off in front of someone else. Dammit. Guess that's what I get for being cheap. Sigh. Someday I'll learn.
Should I talk about Missy getting up on stage and shakin' it? Should I mention the stripper that came over and put a dollar in her bra before the bouncer made her get down?
Nah, probably shouldn't talk about that. :)
Oh, and did I mention that I hard-coded this page? Wow, I can still do it! On a Windoze machine, no less. (gag) Been teaching Christy how to code, and she's picking it up very quickly. You go, girl.
Salaam, friends