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Oct. 1st, 2005 01:12 am
My night out from Mr Spoon
Around 8:30, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu and I were watching some movie on television and generally relaxing when I decided to ring welcomerain. A call had come in about an hour earlier, but we were eating dinner and, besides, there was no reason to think it was time-sensitive. spookyfruit answered and told me to hop into a cab and meet them near the Metro, since they were holding a Bob Mould ticket for me.
I casually informedmonshu and did just that. The ticket turned out to belong to Mr Spoon, who had inadvertantly bought one too many for a group of five. We started out on the balcony, but after a bit I realised that Spooky wasn't around and sought him out on the floor. The vibe was better there, so I stayed.
Bob took the stage with the latest incarnation of his band and they basically played without interruption for ninety minutes straight. I've never seen anything like it. The others who had been to previous concerts had never seen anything like it either. After the first hour, the band took to the backstage. "He's gone to put some antiseptic on his hand," quipped Spooky; I can believe it since "blistering" probably describes the evening literally as well as figuratively. There were a few new songs, but mostly nostalgia ruled. The middle of the set was three or four (it gets hard to count, since he lurched directly from one into another) Hüsker Dü songs and we heard all the big Sugar hits.
If Bob gets a solid A, though, I give the crowd a gentleman's C. At about the first encore, they were as boisterous as they should've been from the very first chord. Early on, I felt sorry for Bob; you could almost feel the energy he was pumping out dying in mid-air. I looked down expecting to see a seething mass and all I saw were a few stand-outs in a sea of dull statues. (Particular kudos for the cute-ass bear down front far stage right, whose head never stopped bobbing and sang along to every song he knew--which was most of them.)
Near the end, a couple of hippie chicks sidled up near me and cut a rug. I was taking inspiration from them but didn't know what they thought of me until after the concert when they came up and praised me on my dancing. Half the time, all I did was jacknife to the backbeat, but that was more than what 90% of the audience did. Lamos! I mean, I know we're all over 40 or damn close to it, but, goddamn, make an effort!
Afterwards, we were supposed to go to Smart Bar, but we lost half our party and it was dead so Mr Spoon (after much backing-and-forthing withhis_regard over possibilities) hit upon the idea of Narcisse. The bright thing to do would've been call it an evening them, but I felt a tad indebted to him as benefactor. I was rewarded for my loyalty with a flute of fine champagne as we shouted coversation over the incessant buzzing in my ears.
Tomorrow, I will be half-deaf, sore as a bricklayer, and generally run-down for our trip south. And I won't regret it one bit.
monshu and I were watching some movie on television and generally relaxing when I decided to ring welcomerain. A call had come in about an hour earlier, but we were eating dinner and, besides, there was no reason to think it was time-sensitive. spookyfruit answered and told me to hop into a cab and meet them near the Metro, since they were holding a Bob Mould ticket for me.I casually informed
monshu and did just that. The ticket turned out to belong to Mr Spoon, who had inadvertantly bought one too many for a group of five. We started out on the balcony, but after a bit I realised that Spooky wasn't around and sought him out on the floor. The vibe was better there, so I stayed.Bob took the stage with the latest incarnation of his band and they basically played without interruption for ninety minutes straight. I've never seen anything like it. The others who had been to previous concerts had never seen anything like it either. After the first hour, the band took to the backstage. "He's gone to put some antiseptic on his hand," quipped Spooky; I can believe it since "blistering" probably describes the evening literally as well as figuratively. There were a few new songs, but mostly nostalgia ruled. The middle of the set was three or four (it gets hard to count, since he lurched directly from one into another) Hüsker Dü songs and we heard all the big Sugar hits.
If Bob gets a solid A, though, I give the crowd a gentleman's C. At about the first encore, they were as boisterous as they should've been from the very first chord. Early on, I felt sorry for Bob; you could almost feel the energy he was pumping out dying in mid-air. I looked down expecting to see a seething mass and all I saw were a few stand-outs in a sea of dull statues. (Particular kudos for the cute-ass bear down front far stage right, whose head never stopped bobbing and sang along to every song he knew--which was most of them.)
Near the end, a couple of hippie chicks sidled up near me and cut a rug. I was taking inspiration from them but didn't know what they thought of me until after the concert when they came up and praised me on my dancing. Half the time, all I did was jacknife to the backbeat, but that was more than what 90% of the audience did. Lamos! I mean, I know we're all over 40 or damn close to it, but, goddamn, make an effort!
Afterwards, we were supposed to go to Smart Bar, but we lost half our party and it was dead so Mr Spoon (after much backing-and-forthing with
his_regard over possibilities) hit upon the idea of Narcisse. The bright thing to do would've been call it an evening them, but I felt a tad indebted to him as benefactor. I was rewarded for my loyalty with a flute of fine champagne as we shouted coversation over the incessant buzzing in my ears.Tomorrow, I will be half-deaf, sore as a bricklayer, and generally run-down for our trip south. And I won't regret it one bit.