Throwing Previews to the Wind
Here's my little experiment. Hear about show. Buy tickets to show.
Know nothing about the band.
Realize you've heard one song by the artist,
And that you don't like it.
Still go to the show.
Last night Hussain and I saw (listened to?) Lily Allen at the Great American Music Hall. (How I love that venue! See photo above.) Hussain told me about the show a few weeks ago, and even though I didn't know who Lily Allen was, I was, like, "Okay, sure!" I was perky and enthusiastic because I trust Hussain's music taste. Even though we disagree strongly about nearly anything with a bit of "ghetto" to it.
So just a day before the concert, that song came over the radio, "At first, when I see you smi-i-ile," and I switched the channel. Because I don't like that song. But I didn't switch fast enough to miss the "Lily Allen!" that was so definitely intended to name the artist who had just sung the "cry-smile" song. And I realized that I had purchased two tickets for an artist I don't really like. Hmm.
I thought about it and decided I needed to go to the concert. I missed the GAMH and I'd soon be missing Kaskade and the Cold War Kids (who I actually want to see) later this month, so I would simply have to go to Lily Allen to get my live music fix. And it makes perfect sense. I prefer DJ nights to concerts sometimes, just because DJ sets are unpredictable and you've got to be getting something for what you're paying for. Here I had the chance to be surprised, so there I went to GAMH.
I'm glad we went. :) Her band has fun trumpet-ists who complete the sometimes reggae, sometimes ska feel to her music. She had a surprisingly clean voice. I almost wanted her to suddenly turn raspy or fail at picking back up on a hook after laughing. She probably sounded exactly what's on her CD. (I wouldn't know since I still haven't heard it.)
She was very cute in an un-annoying way. Of course she ended her planned set list with that cry-smile song, and even though I still think it's kind of annoying, things just sound better when they're live. (I don't know what it is about that song. Hussain suggested that I listen to the lyrics so that I may learn to like it. 'Thing is, I have listened to the lyrics, and maybe a majority of acquaintances would automatically think I'd like the ironic twists and turns in the words, but I still don't like it that much. Who knows? Sometimes we choose not to be ourselves.)
In honor of all the people in attendance last night, here is a picture of the epitome of hipster shoes. Checkered Vans, cowboy boots, old school Puma, and just ignore the Uggs.
Ass-ess Denied
So I tried on a pair of Paige Premium Denim today, just to see if I would be able to feign comfort in a pair of 27"s that aren't Rock & Republics that run big. I couldn't even pull the jeans past my butt. Really, most designer jeans these days are not made for people who have curvy butts. I don't even mind that my ass is big, I just want less trouble when it comes to looking for a pair of bottoms that fit me well.
I read a bit about this "Paige" woman who created this "Paige Premium Denim" line, and I'm not a little disgusted. Just like I'm not a little disgusted by the current Newsweek cover. Just like bitter singles who obviously do care about Valentine's Day write rebellious statements against it.
Looks like "I'm out." (Many apologies for the competitive reality TV show reference.)
No belly-baring catwalking for me. Surprise, surprise.
Motivation
Since feeling nauseous yesterday at Yerba Buena Garden, I have had a new goal at work, and that is to meet the guy at the park.
Know nothing about the band.
Realize you've heard one song by the artist,
And that you don't like it.
Still go to the show.
Last night Hussain and I saw (listened to?) Lily Allen at the Great American Music Hall. (How I love that venue! See photo above.) Hussain told me about the show a few weeks ago, and even though I didn't know who Lily Allen was, I was, like, "Okay, sure!" I was perky and enthusiastic because I trust Hussain's music taste. Even though we disagree strongly about nearly anything with a bit of "ghetto" to it.
So just a day before the concert, that song came over the radio, "At first, when I see you smi-i-ile," and I switched the channel. Because I don't like that song. But I didn't switch fast enough to miss the "Lily Allen!" that was so definitely intended to name the artist who had just sung the "cry-smile" song. And I realized that I had purchased two tickets for an artist I don't really like. Hmm.
I thought about it and decided I needed to go to the concert. I missed the GAMH and I'd soon be missing Kaskade and the Cold War Kids (who I actually want to see) later this month, so I would simply have to go to Lily Allen to get my live music fix. And it makes perfect sense. I prefer DJ nights to concerts sometimes, just because DJ sets are unpredictable and you've got to be getting something for what you're paying for. Here I had the chance to be surprised, so there I went to GAMH.
I'm glad we went. :) Her band has fun trumpet-ists who complete the sometimes reggae, sometimes ska feel to her music. She had a surprisingly clean voice. I almost wanted her to suddenly turn raspy or fail at picking back up on a hook after laughing. She probably sounded exactly what's on her CD. (I wouldn't know since I still haven't heard it.)
She was very cute in an un-annoying way. Of course she ended her planned set list with that cry-smile song, and even though I still think it's kind of annoying, things just sound better when they're live. (I don't know what it is about that song. Hussain suggested that I listen to the lyrics so that I may learn to like it. 'Thing is, I have listened to the lyrics, and maybe a majority of acquaintances would automatically think I'd like the ironic twists and turns in the words, but I still don't like it that much. Who knows? Sometimes we choose not to be ourselves.)
In honor of all the people in attendance last night, here is a picture of the epitome of hipster shoes. Checkered Vans, cowboy boots, old school Puma, and just ignore the Uggs.
Ass-ess Denied
So I tried on a pair of Paige Premium Denim today, just to see if I would be able to feign comfort in a pair of 27"s that aren't Rock & Republics that run big. I couldn't even pull the jeans past my butt. Really, most designer jeans these days are not made for people who have curvy butts. I don't even mind that my ass is big, I just want less trouble when it comes to looking for a pair of bottoms that fit me well.
I read a bit about this "Paige" woman who created this "Paige Premium Denim" line, and I'm not a little disgusted. Just like I'm not a little disgusted by the current Newsweek cover. Just like bitter singles who obviously do care about Valentine's Day write rebellious statements against it.
Looks like "I'm out." (Many apologies for the competitive reality TV show reference.)
No belly-baring catwalking for me. Surprise, surprise.
Motivation
Since feeling nauseous yesterday at Yerba Buena Garden, I have had a new goal at work, and that is to meet the guy at the park.