just keep on dancin'

Last night Kirk and I went to see The Pixies at Arrow Hall. When it started snowing yesterday afternoon, I was starting to feel kinda uneasy about driving out to the airport in the middle of rush hour. People in Toronto always seem to forget what it is like to live in a country that experiences WINTER. Sheesh.

Things didn't improve much when I got home from work when I had to clean up a shiny new Oscar turd that was hardnening right in front of my easel, which must have appeared somtime in the 4 hours since I had last been home (I come home on my lunch hour to take him out). I totally freaked out cause he's been doing it a few times a week since we turned the clocks back. I got a wee bit yelly (I'm so tired poop paranoia) and broke out Oscar's puppy training crate, where he spent the rest of the evening while we were out. We've tried everything, but he's a 2.5 year old border collie living in an apartment - time for a little hard-core, non-yelly discipline.

I picked Kirk up at work and we stopped for a bite to eat to avoid the worst part of the evening traffic. We go there around halfway though The Datsun's set, which, while hardcore, unfortunately sounded like one very long song. At least that's all I could tell while I was chugging the Mike's Hard Lemonade I was double fisting. We made it to the front of the "beer garden" and had a perfect view of the stage. "Beer garden" is a major misnomer by the way, "beer pen" is more like it. Once The Pixies took to the stage, every person within a 10-foot radius of us lit up a smoke - in a non-smoking concert hall festooned with signs threatening a $5000 fine for lighting up. The Pixies opened with pretty sober rendition of Wave of Mutliation, which made it seem like they were playing someone's wedding or bar mitzvah.

Now, I quit smoking cigarettes a while ago when I realized my little habit might have had something to do with my 10-year stint of quarterly bronchial infections, leading to a total lack of interest in physical exertion or proper diet and finally to depression. One of the things I had to do when I quit was think of how DISGUSTING it was, always remining myself of all the toxic fumes I was breathing in besides the tobacco. Obviously it worked because I had to GET OUT of there. Part of me wanted to bitch slap those asswipes 'cause why should I have to give up my spot just so I can breathe air that wasn't suffocating.

Two songs later the band redeemed themselves (around the same time Kirk, my sweet shmoops, talked me down from my increasingly bilious mood and we moved to a bit further back). Every single song from there on in was incredible. After so many years apart, it was amazing to see a group of extremely talented musicians hit every song full on just as tight as ever. The first time I heard The Pixies when a friend lent me her tape of Dolittle. I was floored by how music could be so velvety, melodic and hard rocking all at the same time.

With more room to move and air to breathe, I downed the last of my Mike's and danced like a maniac for the rest of the set. Concert goers in Toronto are pretty uptight and most people just stand around, afraid to let their hips sway in any sort of suggestive, potentially-image-shattering manner. Not me.

About 45 minutes into the set, a mildly drunk woman in her early 20's tapped me on the shoulder. The last time I was at an all ages show at Arrow Hall, I saw the Foo Fighters and had a couple of 17-year old punks behind me who kicked water bottles at me because I was dancing too much. So you can imagine that I was a little taken aback at having a stranger come up to me. She proceeded to tell me, while clutching 2 cups of bad beer, how she thought I was "awesome" and that she was having fun watching me have such a good time, "even though your partner seems kinda bored." It's hard to tell, but beneath Kirk's stoic, "I-don't-dance" stance at concerts, rages a hard-core music lover. "I just wanted to tell you how cool you are and that you should just keep on dancin'."

Powered by the energy of Mike's and the nicest compliment I've received from a total stranger in EONS, I jumped and shimmied to U-Mass, Gigantic, Here Comes Your Man, Debaser, Monkey Gone to Heaven, Mr Grieves, a second more rocking version of Wave of Mutilation, Where is My Mind?, Caribou, Vamos, La La Love You and a few others that I can't remember because I was too busy ass shaking.

They ended the show with the most AMAZING encore - EVER. I'm not sure what the song was, but it was instrumental. It was all massive beats and kicking guitar riffs generating the most incredible electonica-ish sounds I've ever heard, and not one computer. Oh and the dancing that was done.

A million thanks to that nameless drunk girl whose selfless act helped me to forget all about the traffic and the dog poop and the smokers and just enjoy the music.


Mr. McKelvin said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
poopee shmoopee said...

frickin' spammers.

Anonymous said...

You've got no idea. I get 50+ spam comments a day now. I hope you didn't get stupid poker spam as a buddy of mine got a few presumably because I linked to him off one of my posts. :(

Glad to hear you had a good time and I love the new look of the site. Now if only you could set up an RSS feed so I know when there's a new post. :)


Thomas said...

Sounds like the concert ended up being a good memory. At least the punks were just kicking water bottles!

Dave said...

Keep on dancing hon! *S*