After much ado and straight begging, getting a ticket to Monday night's MGMT show turned out to be cheap and easy, like a suburban hooker. And while I was willing to pay up to $30 for the $15 ticket, I'm extremely grateful and glad I didn't because the overall show was, um, let's just say underwhelming.They started off on a very good note (literally) for me by playing my favorite track off their Oracular Spectacular album, Weekend Wars, but settled into what I'll describe as a swirling toilet of sound, meaning they were mesmerizing for a while, but then the toilet just kept running. It's not supposed to keep running. It wasn't bad, per se, just dull.
I was simultaneously lucky and unlucky enough to be about three people back off the end of stage right, which was a near-ideal location to see the band, but it also meant I was surrounded by high-schoolers who first encountered MGMT on Gossip Girl (not that there's anything inherently wrong with that, it just makes for some super annoying "fans"). I also happened to run into some
There was one 'chebag in particular that pissed more than just me off, although I was the instigator in the situation (natch). First, his presumable rhinoplasty-gone-malpractice-lawsuit-wrong girlfriend shoves in, pushing me out of the spot I had staked out for the past hour. She was drunk as all hell, her Juicy couture is stained with what I'm hoping was just beer all down the front (i.e. not vomit) and she's standing there texting like an asshole. So, me, not being one to shy away from picking a fight with a douchebaguette, tapped the bitch on the shoulder and informed her of her concert-floor faux pas. Of course the she-douche just looked at me retardedly because I spoke a whole sentence to her, rather than "liking" and "umming" my way through sentence fragments. Luckily for her, however, it was at that exact moment that her Jersey-style d-bag of a boyfriend rolled up and further crowded out more people who'd been staking out their spots.
"What's your problem?" asks the he-douche.
"My problem is your girlfriend and now you have come in last minute, shoved me out of the way and are expecting to stand here for the show. That's rude. You should either move somewhere else or move over."
"Maybe if you ask politely..."
"Please."
"That wasn't nice."
"You're a douchebag."
At this point, the ladies to the other side and in back of the double-douche couple started chiming in too about their doucheosity, which I took as my cue to step out. Why should I do the work when others can, after all? (I apply this philosophy to all aspects of my life, by the way. It works swimmingly.) And so Operation Douche-B-Gone began. There were f-bombs dropping, arms flailing, at one point the douche even tried to place his beer in a girl's bag. This kid was honestly one of the most ridiculous douches I've had the displeasure to meet in DC. (And I've met my fair share...).
But finally, after much cajoling from all sides, the obnoxious douchetastic duo got the hint and left. Probably for the bar. Operation D-B-G was a success.
Anyway, apart from the high-school contingent and the Shaming of the Douche, the crowd was actually pretty cool. Before the encores, I ventured upstairs to rejoin the crew that I knew and was pleased to see the crowd go absolutely ape-sh*t crazy during the song Kids, for which the drummer, lead guitarist and bassist cleared out, leaving just the two main guys, Ben Goldwasser and Andrew VanWyngarden, on the stage to sing along with the crowd. That was the proverbial jiggle of the handle that fixed the toilet that this show needed. Too bad it was the second to last song.
And like other concert experiences I've blogged about, I took along my camera and snapped some really sh*tty photographs. Voila!
Sweet baseball pants second from left!
A closer look at those tight pants please! TIGHT!
Best picture of the night, despite the lack of baseball trousers.
One-fourth of the crowd.
That's not fog or a dirty camera lens, them's ghosts! ZOINKS!
Just look at all them ghosts!
Neon ghosts!`
Pretty colors! Yay! And that's all I got.
5 comments:
This is why I feel I am getting too old for the 930 club...at the age of 27. I was there about 8 months ago for the Scissor Sisters and almost stabbed some high schooler because he stole my spot. The SS are supposed to attract gay men and their fruit flies--they had no reason to be there in the first place!
And those baseball pants are the bees knees.
I'm supposed to go there Saturday night for Aimee Mann...I get there early and stake a spot along the balcony railing. Virtually impossible to have someone move in front of you, and prevents me from having a claustrophobic fit.
lemmonex--
I'm not sure. I've been to 9:30 quite a few times and never ran into so many young kids. (To illustrate, I saw four kids get busted for underage drinking...)
One of Scissor Sisters' songs was probably on The Hills or something. As if I needed more reasons to hate MTV...damn, that channel really f*cked up American music...
shannon--
If the show is sold out, definitely get there early. If not, then I wouldn't worry about it. MGMT was unusally packed. Perhaps even more so than when I saw Wilco.
I went to 9:30 Club last night for the Old 97s. Other than my buddy got caught up at a job site and couldn't make that I know of (cell phone didn't go off again), it was a good show. First opening bad, the Spring Standard, was decent. Rhett Miller produced their CD FWIW. The second band was okay too, I didn't catch their name but they were from El Paso.
I enjoyed the $3 happy hour Guinness at Duke's House on U and 12th at lot more than the $8 ones at the Club. Keep in mind that if I had known my buddy was gonna have issues getting there I probably wouldn't have drank beyond the $3 beer, that was my only regret. Old 97s didn't take the stage until 9:40 or so, too late for this old 34 year old who is in bed by 11 unless he has plans to be out. They put on a good show though. Very fast paced, not a lot of in between songs banter, sounded like seasoned pros.
I hadn't been to 9:30 in a while but now I have a better idea of what to expect. The club didn't really get packed until 9 or so, between 8 and 9 no one really came through the doors. IF I so see Squeeze, I now know not to get there until 8:30 at the absolute earliest. Doors open at 7:30, I really don't need to see Spring Standard again (nothing against them). I stand wherever the crew does but try to stay away from the immediate front for many reasons.
Sorry to hear about the douchebags, I lucked out and didn't run into any last night. didn't see anyone I knew though, guess I'm telling myself to get out more.
That's what ya get for going to a teenie bopper band's show.
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