I am a dumbass: I missed Basia Balut in concert because I didn't get tickets in time. It was sold out by noon on Saturday, and so when I sashayed into the hotel lobby to get some tickets for her show (as well as the Woodhands show) at 6 pm, the pretty girl on the other side of the table broke the bad news. She said that they do keep back some tickets at the door, so I paid her for my $8 late show ticket and jumped on the bus to the North End by myself because - dude - what else did I have to do? It was an adventure, getting to the venue via public transportation in an area of town I'm not very familiar with. My timing was good, I arrived at the show at 7:35 (for an advertised start time of 7:30) but still no go...big ass sign on the door that told me I was too late. Again.
So back on the bus I jump, make a pit-stop at the liquor store, and end up at a friends' place in the West End an hour later. I spend an hour and a half there eating some of their left-overs (yay for grad student mooching!) which consisted of an amazing glazed ham with potatoes, carrots and salad (with wine). My mouth is salivating just writing that. We watched most of a James Bond film but the combination of incredibly comfortable couch, glazed ham and red wine soon meant I was slack jawed and napping. This despite consuming a red bull less than three hours before. I had to be prodded awake to catch my bus downtown to the late show at Coconut Grove. By myself.
Anyway, I show up in time to watch the second act set up. Coconut Grove = hipster mecca. Not the same hipsters as the Marquee though - these guys are visibly trying much harder to be cool, and are also significantly younger. They hang around in packs of five or six (like I did in grade nine!) instead of two or three, although it's possible I was just being hyper-sensitive to the clique atmosphere. The Bicycles played, and it was blah and quirky all at the same time. I think I was still recovering from food coma. Peter Project (scrathy scratch scratch - cute guy. I picked him out of the crowd earlier - zing!) with MoreorLes played next. Same thing: reception was lukewarm. And while I have no pretenses about accurately judging a hip hop artists ability to rap, the girl in front of me seemed to, and she exclaimed loudly half-way through the set "this is lame". To wit: he rapped about food.
Twice.
Another set change, and Young Rival came on. The did a great set (although I was sitting by this time). A intense style of jumping bass lines & repetitive riffs, they really got the crowd going. Like White Stripes, but bigger sound. Eventually I got up from my seat (but not before I was approached by a Dutch boy, asking whether I was interested in moving locations to the bar we locals nicknamed the "dirty dome". Apparently him and his buddies were going to make the most of their night as they were unexpectedly laid over due to engine problems on their trip from California to Amsterdam).
Last set change of the night, and Woodhands comes on. One half of the duo sets the mood by yelling obscenities into the mic. The other is wearing a charming vintage Star Trek T-shirt. It doesn't take long for the entire crowd to start dancing like crazies (me included) as they open with some of the tracks from the newer album (like here: warning, will open sound bite). Knowing virtually no one at the club meant I was free to really give 'er :) The drummer was amazing, and everyone was sweating profusely by song four. Very adept headlining act too - they were sure to give each opening band credit during their inter-song banter. The set was only supposed to last 45 minutes, but they played until 2:30 (club was supposed to close at 2 am) and then only reluctantly leaving the stage amid cries of "one more! one more!". But the tech guy had to get home to his girlfriend (or something), so we all streamed out of the club onto pizza corner. I tried to graciously finagle my way out of a dinner date with a charming Montreal photographer named Xavier who had failed to pick up on my non-verbal communication signs all night long, and met up with someone outside the club whom I recognized from work. We chatted a bit about the show, and research, and the East Coast before parting ways. The last act of the night did not disappoint, and was completely worth the $8 ticket price.
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