I can’t wait to write about this on my blog.
November 3, 2008
I’m in the Portland airport, waiting for my flight back to LA. You know what’s weird? When you live in LA, you forget that other airports DO NOT SUCK. My mom and aunt dropped me off, and I strolled right through check-in. And then I went to security, and… THERE WAS NO LINE. I felt very nervous. WHAT COULD THIS MEAN? WHY WASN’T THERE A LINE?!? AM I IN THE WRONG PLACE?
So now I have all this time to kill before my flight. But luckily I spent significant amounts of last night turning to Naomi and going “I cannot wait to get home so I can WRITE ABOUT THIS ON MY BLOG.”
To wit: Naomi’s friend manages musicians and very kindly got us tickets to a show. Here’s the thing about rock shows: I really like music, and I like to see it live. But the kinds of people who go to rock shows tend to make me nervous, so I need someone like Naomi to come with me to function as my hipster-buffer (“Move over here! Closer! I can still see that guy’s ironic mustache and tight vintage pants! Okay, that’s better.”)
So, we go to this show: it’s a guy from a couple of pretty famous bands, let’s call him Tim Movello, and his new band. And his first set was JUST HIM. AND HIS GUITAR.
SINGING SONGS ABOUT HIS FEELINGS.
AND HIS POLITICAL BELIEFS. (Which involved a lot of “When the revolution comes…” and “When George Bush and his cronies are tried for war crimes and the revolutionaries rise up on the streets of this great nation…”)
Unfortunately, Naomi and I have this nearly allergic response to earnestness (you know how in About A Boy Hugh Grant wants to die because the kid’s mom sings with her eyes closed? OH YEAH.) IT WAS BAD. We kept looking away from each other so we wouldn’t laugh out loud. At one point I became obsessed with the idea that someone in the crowd should go “WHOO MCCAIN/PALIN WHOO!” but Naomi pointed out that the people at this show would think it was a joke. AN IRONIC JOKE.
The guy’s band looked like he’d purchased it from HIPSTERKITS.COM (“More hipster band guys than you can handle”) – three scrawny androgynous white boys with giant hair that looked a lot like they blow-dried it with a round brush every morning. And tight pants. And ironic shirts. And then there was this fourth guy standing off to the side of the stage, and I said “Naomi, what do you think that guy does? He looks all awkward and not as much of a hipster.”
And Naomi said “I bet he’s the GUITAR WRANGLER. Like, whenever the guy starts a new song, he’s like the guitar sommelier! So he hands him a guitar that will go PARTICULARLY WELL with earnest lyrics about, say, revolutionary politics.”
And I said “That would be so great.”
And then the band ended their song and the lead guy said “And now, a song for all you revolutionaries out there.” and on cue the guitar sommelier handed the lead dude a new guitar.
IT WAS UNBELIEVABLY AWESOME.