Uncle E.
If you know me, then you are expecting certain things re: my thoughts on the Eels last night. But I am going to surprise you, internet. Yes, when considering my next personal style revolution, WWII aviator goggles and Union soldier uniforms are tempting. Giant man-beast in tight black "security" teeshirt and biker sunglasses, making performance art pronouncements before every tune, and then lifting weights and/or ninja-style kickboxing and/or ska? Also a potential fashion muse. But here is the key to all of this:
wind machine.
People, I need a wind machine. I need one to follow me around everywhere I go, sexily blowing my hair hither and yon.
More About That
- Lots of rock, less quiet tunes. Yes to all three popular Eels songs, inlcuidng "Dogface Boy." And finishing up with the opening act pogoing around the stage to "Goddamn Right Beautiful Day." Best What I Did On My Summer Vacation Essay ever. We actually missed Smoosh open. The most I could gather about the wee little ladies is that the audience was mesmerized, although they yelled in helium voices. I would like to think it's the hair. Friday paycheck says they don't pay for those highlights.
Oh! And my bro was correct- the Eels came back out after two encores? Or maybe just one, I can't remember. Anyways, lights came on, people left, and then- I have never in my 87 years of 930 concert going stuck around after the lights came on. But we did, and the gentlemen came back out. It is a rare occasion indeed when I begrudgingly admit that an encore was worth it (Things About Me: I hate the concept of encores). Way to reward true fans, E. My one problem is that Civil War Drummer disrobed. The mystery was gone, as was my love.
- Dear Corpse-Eating Guy in Hat: You seriously need to invest in an entire wholesale case of Ass-Don't-Smell. Dear sweet something something, I never never experienced a more heinous smell in my life. Congratulations on being able to clear an entire front quarter of the 930 club floor. Well played. I am okay with a lot of bad smells. Patchouli? Fine. Whatever. I can deal. An occasional fart? Understood. ALMOST KILLING THE FUTURE OF ROCK AND ROLL? Your ass has been stamped "unacceptable." Smelliest concert ever.
Other Things
- I'll bring the lemonade, you bring the baked goods.
- I'm driving an enormous rental Impala as my poor little car is hammered back into shape. It is a monster.
- The D and I are going to see this Wednesday night, if you are interested in such things.
Monday, June 12, 2006
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