(no subject)
I've been meaning to update this damned thing, but strangely, I find that when you actually sit down to all of your university work, you don't have much time to do - or think - about anything else.
Reaching way back into the past, my notes and what remains of my memory tell me that Stars and Broken Social Scene at The Zoo on 28/02 were pretty awesome. My notes use the word four times in regard to Stars, as well as 'orgasmic' and 'Torque' about one billion times. And, ohmygod, Torque - I was this close to him. Broken Social Scene were underwhelming that night, mainly because they played their new stuff which sucks and almost put me to sleep. Amy and Torque came out on stage for Major Label Debut (fast), and the set ended with Ibi, so the night was somewhat redeemed.
When I was lining up for merchandise, Amy came out from backstage and to the counter. I was standing face to face with her. My throat closed immediately and I was unable to form words. Nobody else even noticed that she was standing there, and I began to doubt that if it was even her. But, oh no, it was definitely her. Amy Millan, right in front of my face.
The next day was Laneway. I didn't even get into the Valley until fifteen minutes to three, and a group of us - Brianna, Billy, Paul, Liz, Ellen, Sagen and I - walked to the stages just after three o'clock. We skipped all bands until Stars, and they weren't as awesome as the night before, but still pretty great. Take Me To The Riot especially was awesome on two counts: firstly, because it rocked. Secondly, some girl had managed to inveigle herself into our group space, standing behind me but in front of Billy. She was a dancer. And, a singer. I could feel her jumping on me, her hands and arms thrashing and punching the air all around my head and shoulders. She was singing in a loud, atonal voice whatever words of the song that she knew, it wasn't very many. Basically, all she knew was the 'take me, take me to the riot' bit. I haven't laughed that hard in so long. She disappeared after the song finished, perhaps driven away by our blatant laughter and heckling.
BSS was after Stars and they opened with Superconnected and closed with It's All Gonna Break. They were so much better than the previous night, mainly because they played their older stuff. There were technically difficulties for It's All Gonna Break, but they kept the song going until the problem was fixed and managed to finish the song. I can't remember that well, and it's hard to gauge time when you're listening to music, but it must have been at least five minutes that the band kept playing, improvising the lyrics and music.
Clap Your Hands were next, and they were fantastic. I wish I saw them on Thursday night because they were just that awesome. Unfortunately, I ran from their stage to the Feist stage about 35 minutes into the set, and then ran back after one Feist song. Still, Clap Your Hands managed to rock my face when I was standing way back from them and also when I was standing around a corner. Let The Cool Goddess Rust Away was particularly good (or so my notes tell me).
The moment after Clap Your Hands finished, Bri, Liz and I saw him. The singer from Yves Klein Blue, standing right in front of us. The collective drool from us would have filled a swimming pool. When it was time to walk past him and to the stage, our legs propelled us forward and around him, but our torsos faced his direction the entire time. Dear god, he was beautiful.
My last band of the night was, unfortunately, The Presets. I couldn't extricate myself from the crowd to get to the Gotye stage, so for an hour I stood unmoving in a crowd of dancing, thrashing people. Some gross, sweaty, shirtless dude was basically slamdancing off of my back, and some other guy was standing so close to me that our butt cheeks were touching. The Presets are really just not my music.
Last week, Thursday, was Beirut. Oh my god.
He sang. In French. As soon as he started, I grabbed Liz's arm, and she nodded back to me, understanding immediately. I think we both melted at that point.
I stood for the majority of the set at the back of the crowd, managing to find a space where I could see half of the band members, and all of Zach Condon. There were so many extraordinarily tall people at this gig that Billy, Paul, Ellen, Liz and that Other Dude who were leaning against the pool table must have had their view obstructed by the Tall People Wall. However, one of the Tall People let Bri in front of him, making me believe that not everybody at gigs is a gigantic jerkface with extra douche-sauce.
That was a really disgusting sentence.
The band took a quick break, for what reason nobody is sure, since Zach Condon's accent or proximity to the microphone hindered comprehension of anything and everything he said. I managed to snake my way into the crowd where Bri was, and I spent the rest of the night there with a clear view of Zach both on the stage and when he jumped into the crowd. He sang a Hallelujah as an encore with his ukulele, adorably forgetting the lyrics.
In conclusion, Torque + Zach Condon + Yves Klein Blue Singer Guy = the sex.
Reaching way back into the past, my notes and what remains of my memory tell me that Stars and Broken Social Scene at The Zoo on 28/02 were pretty awesome. My notes use the word four times in regard to Stars, as well as 'orgasmic' and 'Torque' about one billion times. And, ohmygod, Torque - I was this close to him. Broken Social Scene were underwhelming that night, mainly because they played their new stuff which sucks and almost put me to sleep. Amy and Torque came out on stage for Major Label Debut (fast), and the set ended with Ibi, so the night was somewhat redeemed.
When I was lining up for merchandise, Amy came out from backstage and to the counter. I was standing face to face with her. My throat closed immediately and I was unable to form words. Nobody else even noticed that she was standing there, and I began to doubt that if it was even her. But, oh no, it was definitely her. Amy Millan, right in front of my face.
The next day was Laneway. I didn't even get into the Valley until fifteen minutes to three, and a group of us - Brianna, Billy, Paul, Liz, Ellen, Sagen and I - walked to the stages just after three o'clock. We skipped all bands until Stars, and they weren't as awesome as the night before, but still pretty great. Take Me To The Riot especially was awesome on two counts: firstly, because it rocked. Secondly, some girl had managed to inveigle herself into our group space, standing behind me but in front of Billy. She was a dancer. And, a singer. I could feel her jumping on me, her hands and arms thrashing and punching the air all around my head and shoulders. She was singing in a loud, atonal voice whatever words of the song that she knew, it wasn't very many. Basically, all she knew was the 'take me, take me to the riot' bit. I haven't laughed that hard in so long. She disappeared after the song finished, perhaps driven away by our blatant laughter and heckling.
BSS was after Stars and they opened with Superconnected and closed with It's All Gonna Break. They were so much better than the previous night, mainly because they played their older stuff. There were technically difficulties for It's All Gonna Break, but they kept the song going until the problem was fixed and managed to finish the song. I can't remember that well, and it's hard to gauge time when you're listening to music, but it must have been at least five minutes that the band kept playing, improvising the lyrics and music.
Clap Your Hands were next, and they were fantastic. I wish I saw them on Thursday night because they were just that awesome. Unfortunately, I ran from their stage to the Feist stage about 35 minutes into the set, and then ran back after one Feist song. Still, Clap Your Hands managed to rock my face when I was standing way back from them and also when I was standing around a corner. Let The Cool Goddess Rust Away was particularly good (or so my notes tell me).
The moment after Clap Your Hands finished, Bri, Liz and I saw him. The singer from Yves Klein Blue, standing right in front of us. The collective drool from us would have filled a swimming pool. When it was time to walk past him and to the stage, our legs propelled us forward and around him, but our torsos faced his direction the entire time. Dear god, he was beautiful.
My last band of the night was, unfortunately, The Presets. I couldn't extricate myself from the crowd to get to the Gotye stage, so for an hour I stood unmoving in a crowd of dancing, thrashing people. Some gross, sweaty, shirtless dude was basically slamdancing off of my back, and some other guy was standing so close to me that our butt cheeks were touching. The Presets are really just not my music.
Last week, Thursday, was Beirut. Oh my god.
He sang. In French. As soon as he started, I grabbed Liz's arm, and she nodded back to me, understanding immediately. I think we both melted at that point.
I stood for the majority of the set at the back of the crowd, managing to find a space where I could see half of the band members, and all of Zach Condon. There were so many extraordinarily tall people at this gig that Billy, Paul, Ellen, Liz and that Other Dude who were leaning against the pool table must have had their view obstructed by the Tall People Wall. However, one of the Tall People let Bri in front of him, making me believe that not everybody at gigs is a gigantic jerkface with extra douche-sauce.
That was a really disgusting sentence.
The band took a quick break, for what reason nobody is sure, since Zach Condon's accent or proximity to the microphone hindered comprehension of anything and everything he said. I managed to snake my way into the crowd where Bri was, and I spent the rest of the night there with a clear view of Zach both on the stage and when he jumped into the crowd. He sang a Hallelujah as an encore with his ukulele, adorably forgetting the lyrics.
In conclusion, Torque + Zach Condon + Yves Klein Blue Singer Guy = the sex.