Submitted by Him
Hah, just kidding. I saw The Shins tonight, and I didn't even have to buy the tickets from a scalper. Take that, London! You can hold me down, but I can still come up for air every now and then.
Thursday, 29 March 2007
Thursday, 15 March 2007
Concerts I Never Went To: The Killers (a story of love and loss)
Submitted by Him.
I wasn't one of the first to discover the happy, disco-esque joy that is The Killers. This is a sad side-effect of not being a radio-listener. A friend introduced me to them well after they'd reached hit status, as we were driving in her car around Perth. I remember it well - she spilled petrol everywhere at a service station, and then we argued about exactly what Mr Brightside was supposed to be about.
I still have discussions about that very thing, even now. Is she a prostitute? Is she cheating on someone else to be with him? Who knows? Does it matter? It's a fucking great track.
When I returned in February to the action-packed unscene of London, UK, I arrived just in time to not be able to afford to see The Killers, who were touring to promote their new CD, Sam's Town. They're a band that I'd love to see live. In my opinion, live concerts exist to give you an adrenalin rush, an uplifting experience, a night to remember. Bugger shoe-gazing for a joke. Mellow bands are best experienced in your earphones, wandering along the grey river on a grey day, in sad, solemn solitude. In a grey jacket. With grey stripes. Clutching your dead baby in your arms. You get the picture.
The Killers - get your groove on, sink a bunch of lagers, or pills, or whatever turns you on, and get into it. Well, sadly, I couldn't get into it, because I currently have no work and no savings. The scalpers were flogging their wares online for four times the original price. My old housemate went. He drove down from Leeds just for that gig. My current housemate went too. My ex-girlfriend dropped off a phone charger I'd lent her last year, and told me she was going also, and she had a problem. She had two tickets for the seated area which she didn't want, and was hoping to exchange them for one in the standing area, where the rest of her friends were going to be.
What do you do? You want to see a great, fun concert, but could you sit next to an ex for the duration, desperately enjoying the gig and guiding the small talk around any possibility of mention of the past, the present, and stuff that really pokes the ol' heart and the memories it steadfastly embraces to its little beating chest?
I told her that if she couldn't trade the tickets, I'd be happy to buy the spare one off her. "Let me know how you go," said I. "It's better to enjoy a concert in company." I don't know who I was trying to kid.
She's a stronger person than I. I never received a call on the day, so I can only assume that she found someone to trade the tickets with, or sat alone, preferring the atmosphere to be laden with merely smoke and sweat, rather than the oppressive weight of the past and the nimble dance of chitchat which desperately avoids things that were.
Everyone who went said it was a great gig. I've heard some of their earlier shows were actually pretty crap, and so I prefer to believe that was the case this time too, and they're all just trying to maintain their pride. Me, I have no pride to maintain. I just wanted to shake my booty.
I wasn't one of the first to discover the happy, disco-esque joy that is The Killers. This is a sad side-effect of not being a radio-listener. A friend introduced me to them well after they'd reached hit status, as we were driving in her car around Perth. I remember it well - she spilled petrol everywhere at a service station, and then we argued about exactly what Mr Brightside was supposed to be about.
I still have discussions about that very thing, even now. Is she a prostitute? Is she cheating on someone else to be with him? Who knows? Does it matter? It's a fucking great track.
When I returned in February to the action-packed unscene of London, UK, I arrived just in time to not be able to afford to see The Killers, who were touring to promote their new CD, Sam's Town. They're a band that I'd love to see live. In my opinion, live concerts exist to give you an adrenalin rush, an uplifting experience, a night to remember. Bugger shoe-gazing for a joke. Mellow bands are best experienced in your earphones, wandering along the grey river on a grey day, in sad, solemn solitude. In a grey jacket. With grey stripes. Clutching your dead baby in your arms. You get the picture.
The Killers - get your groove on, sink a bunch of lagers, or pills, or whatever turns you on, and get into it. Well, sadly, I couldn't get into it, because I currently have no work and no savings. The scalpers were flogging their wares online for four times the original price. My old housemate went. He drove down from Leeds just for that gig. My current housemate went too. My ex-girlfriend dropped off a phone charger I'd lent her last year, and told me she was going also, and she had a problem. She had two tickets for the seated area which she didn't want, and was hoping to exchange them for one in the standing area, where the rest of her friends were going to be.
What do you do? You want to see a great, fun concert, but could you sit next to an ex for the duration, desperately enjoying the gig and guiding the small talk around any possibility of mention of the past, the present, and stuff that really pokes the ol' heart and the memories it steadfastly embraces to its little beating chest?
I told her that if she couldn't trade the tickets, I'd be happy to buy the spare one off her. "Let me know how you go," said I. "It's better to enjoy a concert in company." I don't know who I was trying to kid.
She's a stronger person than I. I never received a call on the day, so I can only assume that she found someone to trade the tickets with, or sat alone, preferring the atmosphere to be laden with merely smoke and sweat, rather than the oppressive weight of the past and the nimble dance of chitchat which desperately avoids things that were.
Everyone who went said it was a great gig. I've heard some of their earlier shows were actually pretty crap, and so I prefer to believe that was the case this time too, and they're all just trying to maintain their pride. Me, I have no pride to maintain. I just wanted to shake my booty.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
