Oh.. hai! Shitty concert pics! When you show up almost two and a half hours after doors open you find yourself crammed in the back with the dick bags and drunk girls that don’t want to wander too far from the bar. Your pictures will never be awesome. And if yours are… go fuck yourself.
Standing behind all those happy people I thought, “Dude, am I an asshole for liking fun.?” Mostly because they just seem so goddamn positive up there, and I am clearly anything but.
They’re good. They don’t like capital letters, which I totally enjoy. The instrumentals are fantastic. How many bands today have members that will whip out a trumpet mid set for a sick solo? Nate (I’ve seen him in concert once now, so I can call him by his first name, we’re friends like that) has this vocal quality that’s just… is panty-dropping a proper term? Let’s make it a proper term. Like on the front man scale, he’s no Jagger or Tyler (who is, really?) but he’s got a lot of presence.
I will find anything wrong with everything though. He fucking talks too much. I’m not a regular concert goer so what the hell do I know, maybe pulling Andy Kaufman and reading passages from obscure novels is de riguer. But it’s like he’s his own hype man. We were right there with you when you walked on stage, you don’t need to keep us going with conversation. Or me. You don’t need to keep me going with conversation. I paid for the ticket… so… you know. Do you’re little turn on the catwalk already.
I think what this means is I’m a miserable c-word. Because everyone else was having fun. (Ha… get it? because their name is fun? But we weren’t really having them, that would have been a lot more intimate, and probably really tiring for the band…) It might also have to do with my disgusting hangover. (Note to self: No. More. Tequila. Ever.)
By way of review, I’d say they put on a hell of a show. They’re amazing live, and have crazy levels of energy from what I could see from behind the tall dick bag who thought it was a genuinely great idea to stand directly in front of me and constantly whisper into his boyfriend’s ear. (Insert jerk off hand motion.)
Somewhere someone compared their latest album (Some Nights. No I will not plug it with a link to the iTunes store) to a carnival. Aside from making for some pretty word play, I feel like that writer was taking some poetic liberties. If you really think about the lyrics… a lot of the ones that make sense… they’re very un-fun. Very dark. Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not new to combine sad concepts with upbeat tunes, but at least they do it well. Okay, so maybe if you think of carnivals in sinister terms (which I tend to do often) the comparison is apt. But I remember thinking about it and feeling like, no, that’s off. They’re something else entirely.
Then there are the lyrics that to me make no sense and I just want to sit him down and ask, “What the fuck were you on when you wrote that, and do you have some left over because I need some ‘inspiration’ to get through a few articles, if you know what I mean.” Genius, I’d say not. I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers, though. So… there’s that…