Monday, March 5, 2012

dr dog...not a doctor or a dog...discuss.

Saturday night, I began what has been lamely deemed by me "Music March," because I have a bunch of shows coming up that I am quite excited about. To start it off, I spent the evening with two bearded gingers [Tangent: My #1 ginger, Jamie, and my gingerry friend/brother from another mother, Brandon] and Dr. Dog. I started listening to Dr. Dog about  a year and a half ago and have been long awaiting seeing them live. [Tangent: By the way, to clear up any early confusion- the band has nothing to do with their title. It's not like its a medical professional in a furry suit...although that would be fun to watch perform. This is also about the 5th time Furry-ism has been addressed in the last week by myself or someone I associate with.]
There was no disappointment on my end with their performance. Dr. Dog kept me completely awestruck for two hours straight hours. The set was ridiculous: a faux fireplace, random lion's heads on a coat rack,  stained glass pictures of pizzas being made and thrift store lamps that lit up rythmically with the music. This seems haphazard, but it was seemingly logical within the context of the stage show. I was promised awesome and awesome was droves. Here's a little taste....that I stole from the youtubes.

As much as the stage was captivating my attention, the shenanigans going on in the audience were equally amusing. The median age was about 25, so I felt super geriatric. This was almost as bad as the Vampire Weekend concert...leading me to believe that maybe I am too old for this shit. Either that or I need to start going to see Rick Springfield perform at the Wildhorse. [Tangent: Don't get me wrong. I love that all these young folk are listening to quality music, I just hate that not many in my age bracket were. Maybe they were there, but were sitting in the balcony so they could judge from a distance and protect their hearing.] Occasionally, I would do a double take, thinking, "why does that youngster have a beer?" and then my friend reminded me that it is quite possible to have been born after 1990 and legally be able to consume alcohol. As I picked up the shattered fragments of my exploded mind, I settled into the fact that I am old and sad, and decided I would just never be one to don what I call "Pizza Hut sunglasses."  I am OK with it. [Tangent: I am not sure if this is even true, but I think at some point in my childhood, Pizza Hut gave away plastic sunglasses with eon sides as a promotional gimmick- hence "Pizza Hut sunglasses." Now we're on the same page.]

Then, there was the guy in front of me, putting every other drunken Dr. Dog to shame. His ardent fist pumps to the beat hit 3 different people in the face while he was in my periphery. [Tangent: These actions led to a number of kerfuffles that got at least one other person kicked out...and got the helpful but firm security to intervene on a number of occasions. He was a golden subject for a people watcher such as myself.] He knew every word and may or may not have come alone, but made total use of that "dance like no one's watching" adage.  I respected his commitment to making himself a total spectacle for the sake of his art. I took nary a photo or video at the show, except for the 1.30 video I took of this gentleman's self ass grabbing and "flashdancery." Jamie kept saying he was waiting for a bucket of water to drop at any moment. I will warn you the quality is terrible. It's dark and you have to cock your head to the left at a 90 degree angle, because I am not yet so savvy at this video upload nonsense...yet.

Also, it would be interesting to note that one of the vocalists in Dr. Dog is a ginger and the drunkard shimmier in front of me was redheaded as well. It was a step away from this:

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