When Hambone invited me to join Mystery, Riverboat, and himself to see the too cool for school glitter rock act, Of Montreal, I was immediately suspicious of their use of prepositions.
What, exactly, was of Montreal?
I didn’t get it, but hey, nobody needs to tell me I need to get out more. I spent a half hour trying to find a pair of pants and out we rolled.
The band was coming on just as we walked in the door at 10:00 P:M and I was thinking- “Great! maybe we can get out of here by 12:00”.
You are hoplelessly adrift from your rock and roll roots when the prospect of bedtime is the thing that excites you most at a show. Our little troupe moved dutifully onto the dance floor to enjoy the headliner act only to find out after 5 songs that this was not actually Of Montreal. If you knew anything about anything you would know this was not Of Montreal. The worst part had to be when Hambone was screaming “I love you Of Montreal!” with his Sabbath fingers in the air.
The crowd at this show, I believe people may call them the “emo-rock crowd” but I’m not sure. All I know is boy or girl they all had the most unfortunate-looking haircuts, as if the school jocks had pulled them into the media room (formerly library) and sheared their bangs in the paper cutter, then scalped the nape of their neck with the wrestling coach’s clippers.
Of Montreal came out and they were…
Over my head? Under my radar? The Steely Dan of the modern era?
It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to watch Matlock and go to bed.
Late in the last century, I went out on a work night to see the Reivers. Two opening acts later and with no Reivers in sight, I left at midnight a little poorer but wiser. Wound down with a Matlock rerun, as I recall. Problem with Tallahassee is that most good bands pass through on a Monday or Tuesday night on their way to bigger weekend venues.
Recently bought the new Shins album, and it’s growing on me, but not to the point of Changing My Life (apologies to Natalie Portman). Last band to change my life was Jane’s Addiction, and probably not for the better.
Anybody riding a bike out there? Sasquatch is on pneumonia watch and Juancho’s been on injured reserve. Last weekend I noodled around with Mrs. H. on the St. Mark’s Trail, then left her with the car and hauled ass home– by way of FAMU Hill, which almost made me cry.
I had a proper rehab ride on Saturday. I’m ready for the real thing this week.
Ha! I listen to Of Montreal, and I am so behind hip. Good thing I live in out-there Alaska, where I never have to worry about being scorched by the Emo Gods On High.
Best thing about that show – seeing as I didn’t go – was that the sign on the front of the Moon appeared to list coming performers as “Chippendales Of Montreal”. I have to wonder, are naked Canadian men different from naked American men? Do their little bow ties have maple leaves on them? Not for me to find out.