Saturday, November 3
This evening turned out so wonderfully well! The phone rang while Brigid was here; Jonah asking about the They concert tonight, with the news that the Moldy Peaches were opening. B said that she and her roomies had been thinking about going, and could maybe drive. So that was all very exciting. The phone rang again: Liza wanting to go for a walk. So Brig left with Bis pumping through the Barn, and she showed up before I had a chance to pull out dance CDs past D. We amleaved Joelana, walked down Elm to the end and took the path that leads straight into the woods. It ended at a cliff, which we decided to climb down. It was really slow; I was being ridiculously careful, ended up sliding down most of the way on my rear, we both got all covered in leaves. She had on a skirt (the green one of course, and a mallard shirt), which didn't bode too well. We ended up at the far end of the crum creek trail, so we followed it back to Danawell, basking. I set out to look for masked lawn ornaments, and was intercepted by chalkings for Njedeka's show. I'm glad, because I would have forgotten otherwise (like I forgot to get my plant today). Some of the portraits were kind of nice. From there I went on to Worth courtyard, stopping first at Lodge Four (admired the reappearance of H1st wall art from last year, Liz was disappointed that I couldn't stay to watch Full Metal Jacket with her), and then running into Bryn in front of Two. I joined her in conversation with at least two or three people on the way across the courtyard, and we tried to figure out a way to coordinate our evening plans. She came over to the barn briefly, and ended up convincing me to go the PMA with her Sunday, discussed Ester's movie reviews.
I grabbed M&D and three clementines, tossed them to Dan, Jonah, Gerrit at the train station. There was a large contingent there bound for concerts; it turned out Ana Stratton was coming with us, as was the dreamy Ms. Dreameaux. Apparently she went to high school with head Peach Adam Green, had a crush on him for a while, played in band with him (tuba). We six ate at Penang ("what great food!" people were commenting loudly as we walked in), where I also ate before my first ever Electric Factory show (Travis, during orientation week last year). This time they let me order what I wanted, or rather what Gerrit and I agreed to share, which was a large roti pancake with chicken curry potato dipping sauce. We also got something called Chendol, which was described in the menu as "green pea flour stripes and sweet red beans topped w. shaved ice and coconut milk," and was under the beverage section even though it was more like a sno cone with vegetables. Very sweet, very good.
Found the venue without too much difficulty, bought a ticket off a scalper for $15 (is that like an sclper?) (door price was $22). They wouldn't let me take my pens in, but they did allow the Pynchon, which I was a bit concerned about. The Moldy Peaches were on the stage when we got in, augmented from the cutesy lo-fi couple I had been expecting to a six-piece rock band, complete with outrageous costumes (spiderman suit, crossdresser, huge cat wig and baggy costume, purple shawl and pants with the fly undone). Lillie didn't call out to her fellow alumnus, despite my nagging, but she smiled. A couple girls next to us were crazy in love with Mr. Green. The music was pretty fun, but nothing special, and the lyrics a little too unpredictably vulgar for my taste (funny at first but it gets old). They closed with "Who's Got the Crack," which is an ingenious song.
In searching for Gerrit who had disappeared, I found Tiffany Lennon and Molly, her old roomate or something. I don't really know her except she wore an Old 97s t-shirt at Night of Scenes last year, and I auditioned for her and she was at the spy party. She praised my record reviews ("they're not awful!"). She has a lot of mannerisms that remind me of Meredith - the teeth-clenched "cute" smile, eyes widened and clutches her chest, saccharine, the wind-shield wiper hands dance, bobbly, little-kid or adolescent-girl excited about things like books and musicians and people, clapping active expressions of innocent and absurd – besides which she resembles her (although about twice as tall.) She seems in the cool though, and that's enough for me to sideglance for approval on whether or not lyrics are too offensive to smile at. Someone announced "a special treat" tonight (announced second act Lake Trout were nowhere to be found): Afroman, the legend who brought us "Because I got high," all the way from Mississippi. I must admit that I'd never actually heard the song, although Martha once spent a long time flipping stations, insisting that I had to hear the song. Afroman is frat-rap finally played by blacks; rap in that he raps sometimes (and had a DJ), but it was really southern crunch rock, reggae-tinged. His band was excellent: eminem-scruffy white boys on drums and five-string bass (in light blue shirts), Mr. Mixx on the wheels of steel and two very large male back-up singers (those three black and in red t-shirts), the 'Man himself, sporting his namesake and a goatee to boot, and wearing a white Afroman T-shirt, and plastic cup of beer, occasionally playing competent blues-rock solos on the lower fretboard of a double-necked fender. He opened with a parody of "Wonderful Tonight" (she undoes her bra strap/slips off her underwear/the beautiful moonlight/shines off of her pubic hair), then continued with such favorites as "let's all get drunk tonight," "roll, roll, roll your joint," and, um, yeah, basically every song about weed, beer or sex. The lyrics were actually fairly good, and he's a proficient freestyler ("I can't rhyme with 'Philadelphia'"); his DJ showed off some old-skool skills with "It Takes Two." In all, immensely entertaining, and trebly so because the crowd consisted of meek, skinny, white nerds who wouldn't have been able to dance even if they understood what was going on. We couldn't stop laughing. It went on for a song or so too long, but of course everyone raised a fist for the closer.
By that point, I knew I had made the right decision in going to the show. It took over forty minutes before the next group came on (I had a secret fear that Lake Trout would materialize), and we all complained; I decided to pull out Mason and Dixon and start reading it in protest. I made it through Chapter One, garnering several smirks and excited applause from Tiffany. Before I had time to start Chapter Two (which is only two pages), colored lights started flashing all over the place, and the band of bands took they stage (actually, they were saying "band of Dans," but it took me a little while to figure that out.) They launched into two new songs, so-so "Cyclops Rock" and "Bangs", the latter strikingly similar to "Ana Ng", which they played next.
Lots of old favorites: "James K. Polk" (on the syllable 'ist' in "expansionist", two cannons shot off huge sprays of confetti down onto the crowd), "She's Actual Size", which featured an extended drum-solo-as-phone voice message system (for Buddy Rich press 7, for Keith Moon press 9, for Animal from the muppets press 11), "Dead" ("this is a song from Flood we learned for our homework. Not because we actually like any of those songs"), "Spider" "The Guitar", a Latinized "Istanbul", "Why Does the Sun Shine", "Shoehorn with Teeth" (requisite applause for glockenschpieler), "Dr. Worm", "She's an Angel" (which Lillie and I had been talking about beforehand), "Birdhouse in Your Soul," "Twistin'" which made me absolutely ecstatic, I couldn't believe I was so happy, "Older," which is on the new album. They didn't play too much from the ("Our new record is called Mink Car" "It's still called Mink Car" "We've had it with those bands that change the name of their album after it comes out. That's bullshit") new one ("on this album we've moved away from regular songs; we're using what we like to call 'supersongs.' They're like regular songs, but with a lot more extra stuff. It's hard to explain"); I liked some of them, particularly the dancy "It's so loud in here", with disco ball and flashing white lights. Also fun: the "spin the dial" aleatoric segment, with a radio - it turned up U2, Fontella Bass, ads, talk shows, and they played along as best they could. They allowed ample space for featuring the instrumentalists (sort of bizarre given that this is just a backing band for a duo that's been around for years, nobody was there to see the musicians, but whatever, they were quite talented). The whole show was very tight, with tons of energy, Flansburgh playing enthusiastic MC. The crowd was amusing in their uniformity and predictability. They were definitely pleased with the performance. At one point an incredibly excited, frenetic young woman jumped in front of me and started dancing enthusiastically, exhorting me to join her and start a mosh pit, then just to dance. The concert brought back so many memories, of people like Joshua Hall-Bachner and that guy John from Wyomoco, of performing a five-person a cappella version of "The Guitar" at a campfire there once, of analyzing the lyrics, history class, Carla. Yeah. Everyone was there for the same reasons. I could almost understand why Journey and Kansas sell out reunion tours.
They came back for an encore, of course; "Mink Car" and, wonder of wonders, "Fingertips" - performed with nary a glitch despite the dozens of abrupt transitions (the song is a series of unrelated several-second melodic and lyrical snippets, certainly not the sort of thing intended to be done live). A chant of "one more tune" came up, and they returned for "Particle Man," which had everyone doing hand signals, and then the classic classic "Famous Polka," for which I grabbed Lillie and polkaed with her, to everyone's amusement. We could not have been more elated walking out of the concert. I bought the CD ($15), which I justified by having saved $7 on the ticket, not to mention several from not ordering an entree or taking the train back out. Tiffany's borrowed car was intended for five, and we didn't even attempt to fit all eight of us into it (although I bet it would have been possible). Instead Jonah and Gerrit bravely volunteered to take the bus, and Ana, Lillie, I and Dan piled into the back. The discussion on the way back was lively - clubbers, study abroad, Steven Starr, doubles, the formal. I performed "O Do Not Forsake" to thank Tiffany for the ride, and then tried to harmonize with Lillie on "It's Not My Birthday." Now I really must to sleep, since I have another day of fullness on the horizon. Wonderful terrific evening though. !!!
I am a goat
in a moat
with a boat
who's got the crack?
I grabbed M&D and three clementines, tossed them to Dan, Jonah, Gerrit at the train station. There was a large contingent there bound for concerts; it turned out Ana Stratton was coming with us, as was the dreamy Ms. Dreameaux. Apparently she went to high school with head Peach Adam Green, had a crush on him for a while, played in band with him (tuba). We six ate at Penang ("what great food!" people were commenting loudly as we walked in), where I also ate before my first ever Electric Factory show (Travis, during orientation week last year). This time they let me order what I wanted, or rather what Gerrit and I agreed to share, which was a large roti pancake with chicken curry potato dipping sauce. We also got something called Chendol, which was described in the menu as "green pea flour stripes and sweet red beans topped w. shaved ice and coconut milk," and was under the beverage section even though it was more like a sno cone with vegetables. Very sweet, very good.
Found the venue without too much difficulty, bought a ticket off a scalper for $15 (is that like an sclper?) (door price was $22). They wouldn't let me take my pens in, but they did allow the Pynchon, which I was a bit concerned about. The Moldy Peaches were on the stage when we got in, augmented from the cutesy lo-fi couple I had been expecting to a six-piece rock band, complete with outrageous costumes (spiderman suit, crossdresser, huge cat wig and baggy costume, purple shawl and pants with the fly undone). Lillie didn't call out to her fellow alumnus, despite my nagging, but she smiled. A couple girls next to us were crazy in love with Mr. Green. The music was pretty fun, but nothing special, and the lyrics a little too unpredictably vulgar for my taste (funny at first but it gets old). They closed with "Who's Got the Crack," which is an ingenious song.
In searching for Gerrit who had disappeared, I found Tiffany Lennon and Molly, her old roomate or something. I don't really know her except she wore an Old 97s t-shirt at Night of Scenes last year, and I auditioned for her and she was at the spy party. She praised my record reviews ("they're not awful!"). She has a lot of mannerisms that remind me of Meredith - the teeth-clenched "cute" smile, eyes widened and clutches her chest, saccharine, the wind-shield wiper hands dance, bobbly, little-kid or adolescent-girl excited about things like books and musicians and people, clapping active expressions of innocent and absurd – besides which she resembles her (although about twice as tall.) She seems in the cool though, and that's enough for me to sideglance for approval on whether or not lyrics are too offensive to smile at. Someone announced "a special treat" tonight (announced second act Lake Trout were nowhere to be found): Afroman, the legend who brought us "Because I got high," all the way from Mississippi. I must admit that I'd never actually heard the song, although Martha once spent a long time flipping stations, insisting that I had to hear the song. Afroman is frat-rap finally played by blacks; rap in that he raps sometimes (and had a DJ), but it was really southern crunch rock, reggae-tinged. His band was excellent: eminem-scruffy white boys on drums and five-string bass (in light blue shirts), Mr. Mixx on the wheels of steel and two very large male back-up singers (those three black and in red t-shirts), the 'Man himself, sporting his namesake and a goatee to boot, and wearing a white Afroman T-shirt, and plastic cup of beer, occasionally playing competent blues-rock solos on the lower fretboard of a double-necked fender. He opened with a parody of "Wonderful Tonight" (she undoes her bra strap/slips off her underwear/the beautiful moonlight/shines off of her pubic hair), then continued with such favorites as "let's all get drunk tonight," "roll, roll, roll your joint," and, um, yeah, basically every song about weed, beer or sex. The lyrics were actually fairly good, and he's a proficient freestyler ("I can't rhyme with 'Philadelphia'"); his DJ showed off some old-skool skills with "It Takes Two." In all, immensely entertaining, and trebly so because the crowd consisted of meek, skinny, white nerds who wouldn't have been able to dance even if they understood what was going on. We couldn't stop laughing. It went on for a song or so too long, but of course everyone raised a fist for the closer.
By that point, I knew I had made the right decision in going to the show. It took over forty minutes before the next group came on (I had a secret fear that Lake Trout would materialize), and we all complained; I decided to pull out Mason and Dixon and start reading it in protest. I made it through Chapter One, garnering several smirks and excited applause from Tiffany. Before I had time to start Chapter Two (which is only two pages), colored lights started flashing all over the place, and the band of bands took they stage (actually, they were saying "band of Dans," but it took me a little while to figure that out.) They launched into two new songs, so-so "Cyclops Rock" and "Bangs", the latter strikingly similar to "Ana Ng", which they played next.
Lots of old favorites: "James K. Polk" (on the syllable 'ist' in "expansionist", two cannons shot off huge sprays of confetti down onto the crowd), "She's Actual Size", which featured an extended drum-solo-as-phone voice message system (for Buddy Rich press 7, for Keith Moon press 9, for Animal from the muppets press 11), "Dead" ("this is a song from Flood we learned for our homework. Not because we actually like any of those songs"), "Spider" "The Guitar", a Latinized "Istanbul", "Why Does the Sun Shine", "Shoehorn with Teeth" (requisite applause for glockenschpieler), "Dr. Worm", "She's an Angel" (which Lillie and I had been talking about beforehand), "Birdhouse in Your Soul," "Twistin'" which made me absolutely ecstatic, I couldn't believe I was so happy, "Older," which is on the new album. They didn't play too much from the ("Our new record is called Mink Car" "It's still called Mink Car" "We've had it with those bands that change the name of their album after it comes out. That's bullshit") new one ("on this album we've moved away from regular songs; we're using what we like to call 'supersongs.' They're like regular songs, but with a lot more extra stuff. It's hard to explain"); I liked some of them, particularly the dancy "It's so loud in here", with disco ball and flashing white lights. Also fun: the "spin the dial" aleatoric segment, with a radio - it turned up U2, Fontella Bass, ads, talk shows, and they played along as best they could. They allowed ample space for featuring the instrumentalists (sort of bizarre given that this is just a backing band for a duo that's been around for years, nobody was there to see the musicians, but whatever, they were quite talented). The whole show was very tight, with tons of energy, Flansburgh playing enthusiastic MC. The crowd was amusing in their uniformity and predictability. They were definitely pleased with the performance. At one point an incredibly excited, frenetic young woman jumped in front of me and started dancing enthusiastically, exhorting me to join her and start a mosh pit, then just to dance. The concert brought back so many memories, of people like Joshua Hall-Bachner and that guy John from Wyomoco, of performing a five-person a cappella version of "The Guitar" at a campfire there once, of analyzing the lyrics, history class, Carla. Yeah. Everyone was there for the same reasons. I could almost understand why Journey and Kansas sell out reunion tours.
They came back for an encore, of course; "Mink Car" and, wonder of wonders, "Fingertips" - performed with nary a glitch despite the dozens of abrupt transitions (the song is a series of unrelated several-second melodic and lyrical snippets, certainly not the sort of thing intended to be done live). A chant of "one more tune" came up, and they returned for "Particle Man," which had everyone doing hand signals, and then the classic classic "Famous Polka," for which I grabbed Lillie and polkaed with her, to everyone's amusement. We could not have been more elated walking out of the concert. I bought the CD ($15), which I justified by having saved $7 on the ticket, not to mention several from not ordering an entree or taking the train back out. Tiffany's borrowed car was intended for five, and we didn't even attempt to fit all eight of us into it (although I bet it would have been possible). Instead Jonah and Gerrit bravely volunteered to take the bus, and Ana, Lillie, I and Dan piled into the back. The discussion on the way back was lively - clubbers, study abroad, Steven Starr, doubles, the formal. I performed "O Do Not Forsake" to thank Tiffany for the ride, and then tried to harmonize with Lillie on "It's Not My Birthday." Now I really must to sleep, since I have another day of fullness on the horizon. Wonderful terrific evening though. !!!
I am a goat
in a moat
with a boat
who's got the crack?
