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* I had a delightful time traipsing about the south with [personal profile] agonistes last week.  There was history and cats and music-acquiring and also Andrew Bird.  I wrote the review for the Atlanta show, she wrote the one for Nashville.  You should read both of them.   They were super exciting and we had a lot of feelings about both of the shows, especially Nashville.  (Also, in Nashville, we both procured Satan is Real tshirts.  I l plan on wearing mine to the annual hipster radio vinyl sale next month, and things will be glorious.)

* I also saw Mr. Bird in Milwaukee and while the show itself was excellent, I need to gripe a little bit about the audience.  They were boisterous in all of the right places -- Bird got extended applause throughout the set, including one point at which he looked a little surprised at how enthusiastically they applauded.  But the amount of drunken hooting, random shouting, and the tendency to scream every time words weren't coming out of his mouth slowly drove me more and more nuts as the show went on.  (He even acknowledged it at one point, in that slightly snarky way of his: "There sure are a lot of interesting opinions out there.") I get that you're happy to be there but, seriously, put a lid on it.  I have such disdain for the practice of shouting song titles repeatedly at an artist, particularly one who is on tour supporting  a new album.  I just think that it's rude, especially if you keep doing it.  While Bird changes his set list on a whim all the time -- he threw Bein' Green in at Nashville, and Skin Is My in Atlanta -- he does it on his own terms, generally not because someone yelled a song at him.  I've seen him take requests at smaller shows, like the Sonic Arboretum gigs he did at the MCA, but he generally sticks to what he's already decided to play.  Also, I think there's a certain level of decorum that one expects from a seated show in a fancy theater, and drunken hooting and yelling doesn't quite measure up.  Also -- and this is just a "it personally annoyed me" rather than "bad concert behavior" -- in a huge, cavernous concert hall, there is going to be sound phasing, so clapping along in time almost NEVER works right, because you think you're clapping along but you're really NOT and it is just out of time and annoying.  There were a few quiet moments where Bird and company were playing acoustic songs, clustered around a single mic, and people got it in their heads to clap along, which, okay, not begrudging you having a good time. And then the out of time clapping along devolved into what sounded to me like people playing the "who claps last" game - you know, one person claps, and then another claps right after, and then the first person claps again to try to be last, etc.  I know that I have odd reactions to certain sounds and rhythms, so it likely bothered me more than most other normal people, but I honestly had a hard time focusing on the performance because so many people were doing this.  Ugh, people.  Don't be douchebags, why is that so hard.

* In an attempt to clean off my desktop, I found the folder of songs by my band.  I've uploaded a few of them for your listening enjoyment. They're from a rehearsal, so the quality is not great, but I like sharing.
  * All Along the Watchtower 
  * It's All Over Now Baby Blue
  * Bruce's Grave (original)
I also do a pretty mean cover of Neil Young's "Don't Let It Bring You Down", but the only copies of it I have are either incomplete or in a single/unsplit MP3 of a full show, and I am too lazy to edit.

* My cat is currently shedding like it's his job, and won't stop meowing.  I spend a lot of time going "WHAT DO YOU WANT".  Also, I seem to have developed a case of little tiny ants since I left.  I picked up an organic/pet safe ant killer that seems to work okay so far, but I also sprinkled some corn meal on the floor where I keep seeing them.  Allegedly the ants will eat it and then explode because their bodies can't process it?  I don't know if it will actually work, but it's worth a shot, especially since these little assholes are crawling around where the cat eats.  I haven't seen any since I sprayed the place with the organic ant killer, so we'll cross our fingers that there aren't any more.

* Also, against my better judgment, I signed up for a White Collar prompt over at [livejournal.com profile] queer_fest so there is that.  It's Neal/Peter and Neal/OMC and what was that that I said about me probably never actually writing Neal/Peter? Oh well.  

othersideofthis: (far too early for this)
Hi, LJ. I didn't really read anything over the weekend, so if anything interesting happened, I missed it.


after waiting outside for about two and a half hours in the cold with about 12-15 other devoted Andrew Bird fans, wherein we amused ourselves with a cappella renditions of Bird songs (complete with beatboxing) and playing the Name an Andrew Bird Song for Every Letter in the Alphabet (wherein I pwned everyone by using Bowl of Fire songs instead of songs from his newer releases; and where we skipped J, said we wouldn't skip any more, and then got stuck on Q), he finally came out and took time to chat with us all and sign things. No photos, but I couldn't be too sad about that, as A) he'd been filmed for two days straight for the DVD they're making, and B) he was nice enough to stop and chat with us and sign things all anyway.


This one girl said to him, "I told a friend that I wouldn't leave here without touching you, so can I have a hug?" and he was like "....okay." Which, you know, was all the opening I needed.

As he was signing my poster, I told him about how we met at the show at the Art Museum where I promptly hurled a bunch of words in a huge run-on sentence at him, and said that I felt kind of awkward about it afterwards, because I had hoped I would be able to be less tongue-tied, so I wrote him a little message in a card. (Hilariously, during the show, a girl in the audience shouted out in between songs, "DID YOU READ MY LETTER?" and he was like "...maybe?") So I was like, listen, you can read this or not read this or misplace it and pretend that you read it, but here, I just wanted to give this to you. And he was all, oh, thanks, and took the envelope (which, uh, may or may not have had one of my awesome blog-business cards in it, which may or may not have been a kind of psychotic idea, particularly considering that a big chunk of my blog has been devoted to reviews of his shows, and that the name of the blog itself is taken from a lyric in one of his songs, but I was like, fuck it, I'm doing it), and, yeah, will he ever read it? I don't know, I'd like to think that he will, but it was just important to me to communicate somehow just how important what he does is to me, and if I can't get the words out in talking, then I'm writing them. So there.

And then, and then, and then, I was like, well, he just hugged a couple of other people, including one guy in a hilariously awkward man-hug. This was an opportunity I wasn't going to pass up. And I was like, "since you're giving them out, can I have a hug too?" And was all, "...sure."



That's how you know that despite the fact that he's pretty much the poster boy for terribly introverted people, that he's also a pretty awesome guy, because he hugs crazy fangirls without worrying that they're going to knife him or whatever. As someone who has her own Personal Space issues with strangers, I appreciated the fact that he let me violate his personal space for a couple of seconds.

Unrelated to the hugging, I felt really old with all of the other people waiting around for him. Most of them were college freshmen or sophomores, and I was all omgzold.

BUT WHATEVER, ANDREW BIRD HUGGED ME. If I can't steal him away for naughty things, I will make myself happy with a simple slightly awkward hug at 1:30 in the morning out in the cold in Milwaukee.

After he'd signed things for us, we all thanked him for coming out to see us, and he thanked us for waiting so long for him. We started telling him about how we'd amused ourselves, and about the Name the Song game and I looked at him and was like, "yeah, do you have any songs that start with Q?" He thought about it for a moment before saying no, he didn't think so. "We got stuck there," I said, "and I figured it anyone would know, you would."

He needs to get on that, writing a song that starts with a Q. Because you can't play the alphabet game without hitting all the letters.

I texted Concert Buddy about this, and she responded with a couple of texts worth of exclamation points. This is, I think, the only appropriate answer.

ABird 083


othersideofthis: (Default)
oh, medusa

July 2015

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