Excuse the excessive capital letters, but there's no other way to express this
I MET SONDRE LERCHE!!!!!!
I know that means absolutely nothing to, oh, everyone. But for me it was the "holyshitohmigawd" moment of the year. I've never been the sort to scream over boy bands, while I certainly bought their albums (I admit it!) so I guess in viewing it that way I'm entitled to a few continuous hours of squeeling.
So how it happened was this: I'm with Liana about two hours before the show, taking her to the amazing record shop a block away from my building (I had mentioned to her that while there earlier today I had found a promotional CD with three unreleased Dandy Warhol songs for only $7. And while I'm not as into the Dandies as I once was, c'mon, that's incredible). So we're walking to to the store which is right next to the club where the concert was held, and there he was walking down the street with another guy. Just...there.
So after a moment of "Oh my God that's him" and Liana confused out of her mind I managed with "Excuse me, Sondre?" And God help me if I said his name wrong. As far as I know I didn't, but still...
He turns around, and I continue with something along the lines of "I'm sorry to bother you, I'm a really big fan and I just wanted to say..."(I've listened to Two-Way Monologue more times than I've been alive on this Earth? Please have my babies? Or...let me have yours since as far as I know you do not have a uterus) "...Thank you". I felt like something should have been added to that, such as "Thanks for the great albums", but this is from the girl who used to break into a sweat just talking to sales people, so I guess it's something that I just got that out and kept my cool.
He was very polite (because he's Norwegian) and had very very blue eyes (because he's Norwegian). "Thanks. Are you coming to the show tonight?"
"Yes"
"Alright, see you there. Take care"
"Thanks. You too".
And then I melted into a puddle of dorkdom.
We continued on our way in our quest for music, both compact and live. While getting lost in the record store (because you can, so easily. If you don't get crushed by a crate of records that are pratically coming out of the cracks in the ceiling, you can spend hours upon hours in the most obscure music ever made, or made and forgotten, and just feel like you're knowledge of music is nothing, and never will be anything). While Liana bought her stacks of Marvin Gaye, I found a pin with Adam Ant in the box of 50 cent pins by the register that the owner so kindly let me have for free. So now in addition to meeting Sondre, I now have a pin with the greatest cross-dressing pirate rock star of the 80's, Boy George be damned.
And then there was the concert. Oh, there was a concert. Two opening acts are a bit much, especailly when the main act comes on at 11 for a show that starts at 8. But be that as it may, the first opener, another Norwegian named Thomas Dybdahl, was like if you took a puppy, gave it a velvet bucket hat, a guitar and a harmonica and a broken heart and let it loose to write it's own songs (because puppies can so totally compose songs. F'real.)It wasn't bad, it's just his songs were a bit undistinguishable, the sort of thing you'd want to listen to if you were in a used bookstore on a rainy day. The second act, Willy Mason, is actually a Boston native and must have had his cromies there since there was many odd song requests thrown around. This guy looks like my age, yet he opens his mouth and it's like Grizzly Adams and Johnny Cash had a love child (note: comparisons will change once I have a better inventory of country singers and general rural figures to reference to).
And then Sondre Lerche and the Faces down. I loved it, and that's all I'll go into. You can tell the guys really enjoy playing, from the dummer's silly and talented drum solo to just the general looks they all passed to eachother while on stage. They love the music, as do I. So with all that, why was there a sea of teeny bopper like girls there? I think it was only a small portion that just happened to congregate where I was (I got right up to leaning on the stage, a little over right from the center.) It's hypocritical for me, the one who squeeled for an hour after meeting the guy, should say that, but I think I'm just looking for a reason to hate the two girls who insisted on pushing me away from my spot and then, squished up right against me, danced so that for a lot of the show I had some fat girl grinding against me. Not...cool.
But regardless, the show was amazing, so much different from the albums since they had no problem switching between rock and jazz and just jamming for minutes on certain songs. And my favorite song of the last two or three years, Two Way Monologue, was given a rockier, punkier vibe that was perfect for the encore. And Sondre is adorable, jumping around like a dork and offering plenty of polite and silly banter between songs. His story about how the band was stuck in Montana thanks to a snow storm last week was like a bizarre book report "So we sat in this casino, and the slot machines were useless since we lost power, and you (to the bass player) had a chicken basket, and then we ate some McDonalds, because it is ever so tasty, and then we spent the rest of the day trying to throw up". Somehow that all lead to how they were going to play us an unreleaded song called "Hello Headphones". He taught the audience Norwegian phrases, he got use out of the stage's disco ball, he continually teased us with the first few bars of "Sweet Home Alabama". He, and the band, made me smile for a solid hour and a half and nod nod nod like keeping the beat with my head would somehow help them reach new levels of rock.
And now this ridiculous excuse of a review is dragging on for ever...and ever...I'm just glad Liana agreed to go with me so I wouldn't be a dork by myself, that we got there early enough to get spots near the stage, that I got to meet him, that I got a free Adam Ant pin....good night, good night. And good night to you all.
P.S. I fucking met Sondre Lerche bitches.
I know that means absolutely nothing to, oh, everyone. But for me it was the "holyshitohmigawd" moment of the year. I've never been the sort to scream over boy bands, while I certainly bought their albums (I admit it!) so I guess in viewing it that way I'm entitled to a few continuous hours of squeeling.
So how it happened was this: I'm with Liana about two hours before the show, taking her to the amazing record shop a block away from my building (I had mentioned to her that while there earlier today I had found a promotional CD with three unreleased Dandy Warhol songs for only $7. And while I'm not as into the Dandies as I once was, c'mon, that's incredible). So we're walking to to the store which is right next to the club where the concert was held, and there he was walking down the street with another guy. Just...there.
So after a moment of "Oh my God that's him" and Liana confused out of her mind I managed with "Excuse me, Sondre?" And God help me if I said his name wrong. As far as I know I didn't, but still...
He turns around, and I continue with something along the lines of "I'm sorry to bother you, I'm a really big fan and I just wanted to say..."(I've listened to Two-Way Monologue more times than I've been alive on this Earth? Please have my babies? Or...let me have yours since as far as I know you do not have a uterus) "...Thank you". I felt like something should have been added to that, such as "Thanks for the great albums", but this is from the girl who used to break into a sweat just talking to sales people, so I guess it's something that I just got that out and kept my cool.
He was very polite (because he's Norwegian) and had very very blue eyes (because he's Norwegian). "Thanks. Are you coming to the show tonight?"
"Yes"
"Alright, see you there. Take care"
"Thanks. You too".
And then I melted into a puddle of dorkdom.
We continued on our way in our quest for music, both compact and live. While getting lost in the record store (because you can, so easily. If you don't get crushed by a crate of records that are pratically coming out of the cracks in the ceiling, you can spend hours upon hours in the most obscure music ever made, or made and forgotten, and just feel like you're knowledge of music is nothing, and never will be anything). While Liana bought her stacks of Marvin Gaye, I found a pin with Adam Ant in the box of 50 cent pins by the register that the owner so kindly let me have for free. So now in addition to meeting Sondre, I now have a pin with the greatest cross-dressing pirate rock star of the 80's, Boy George be damned.
And then there was the concert. Oh, there was a concert. Two opening acts are a bit much, especailly when the main act comes on at 11 for a show that starts at 8. But be that as it may, the first opener, another Norwegian named Thomas Dybdahl, was like if you took a puppy, gave it a velvet bucket hat, a guitar and a harmonica and a broken heart and let it loose to write it's own songs (because puppies can so totally compose songs. F'real.)It wasn't bad, it's just his songs were a bit undistinguishable, the sort of thing you'd want to listen to if you were in a used bookstore on a rainy day. The second act, Willy Mason, is actually a Boston native and must have had his cromies there since there was many odd song requests thrown around. This guy looks like my age, yet he opens his mouth and it's like Grizzly Adams and Johnny Cash had a love child (note: comparisons will change once I have a better inventory of country singers and general rural figures to reference to).
And then Sondre Lerche and the Faces down. I loved it, and that's all I'll go into. You can tell the guys really enjoy playing, from the dummer's silly and talented drum solo to just the general looks they all passed to eachother while on stage. They love the music, as do I. So with all that, why was there a sea of teeny bopper like girls there? I think it was only a small portion that just happened to congregate where I was (I got right up to leaning on the stage, a little over right from the center.) It's hypocritical for me, the one who squeeled for an hour after meeting the guy, should say that, but I think I'm just looking for a reason to hate the two girls who insisted on pushing me away from my spot and then, squished up right against me, danced so that for a lot of the show I had some fat girl grinding against me. Not...cool.
But regardless, the show was amazing, so much different from the albums since they had no problem switching between rock and jazz and just jamming for minutes on certain songs. And my favorite song of the last two or three years, Two Way Monologue, was given a rockier, punkier vibe that was perfect for the encore. And Sondre is adorable, jumping around like a dork and offering plenty of polite and silly banter between songs. His story about how the band was stuck in Montana thanks to a snow storm last week was like a bizarre book report "So we sat in this casino, and the slot machines were useless since we lost power, and you (to the bass player) had a chicken basket, and then we ate some McDonalds, because it is ever so tasty, and then we spent the rest of the day trying to throw up". Somehow that all lead to how they were going to play us an unreleaded song called "Hello Headphones". He taught the audience Norwegian phrases, he got use out of the stage's disco ball, he continually teased us with the first few bars of "Sweet Home Alabama". He, and the band, made me smile for a solid hour and a half and nod nod nod like keeping the beat with my head would somehow help them reach new levels of rock.
And now this ridiculous excuse of a review is dragging on for ever...and ever...I'm just glad Liana agreed to go with me so I wouldn't be a dork by myself, that we got there early enough to get spots near the stage, that I got to meet him, that I got a free Adam Ant pin....good night, good night. And good night to you all.
P.S. I fucking met Sondre Lerche bitches.