2003-02-07 - 1:31 p.m.
The disappointment just keeps a comin'. I am so angsty about this Dismemberment Plan show, the more I think about it. I had really grown to enjoy their albums after repeated listenings, shaking off that nagging feeling that they were an overrated jam band. Of course, the whole Death Cab connection helped. So I let myself melt into the music, even chose a favorite song on Change so I could memorize the words.
The concert slowly imploded my little building of ideas about them. The lead singer, who could have been Ben Gibbard's older, jock brother, was a fucking pest. His cock rock posturing, his eyes closed in emotion while one was cracked half open to bask in adoration, sticking his tongue out ala Mick Jagger. Argh. He also made lame jokes that would ahve been funny if someone soncere had been saying them.
Let me get to why this ruined the music. Because with his pay-attention-to-me routine, that's all I could do. I noticed the band was tight, that the drummer was a little off, that the bass player seemed cool and had a rockin' Sam Beam beard. But that's all I could notice. While the girl next to me did a shoulder lean and threw her elbows in the air to the chorus, [I kid you not, she was so fucking into it.] my legs hurt. I felt like an old woman. We made our way over to some cases near the stage and kind of sat in a stupor through the encore.
"You don't think there's going to be more than one, right?", I whispered.
"No.", he firmly replied. Then a look of concern crossed his face. "No, they can't. They can't."
You can't win them all, I suppose.
Maybe I'll have more luck with The Notwist.
In other news, it's snowing so I didn't go to the city today. Snow is a debilitating part of nature to me. Every little flake screams, "Go back to bed, you moron! We insist! So do all of your responsibilites! Trust us!"
So I do. I just woke up.
I hope everyone has a snowless day.
~j
+XTC+
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