Too Old To Hang

I haven’t been to a show with a super raucous crowd in quite some time, so last night’s Andrew W.K. experience was a little jarring at best.

I should have expected the dancing.  I should have expected the shoving.

What I didn’t expect was needing to use my rescue inhaler once I got out of the pit.  I made it through two songs pressed against the stage before I said “Enough is enough.”

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Sometimes, I name bands that younger folks have never heard of, not because the bands were too indie, but because the individual was not alive at the time the band was popular.

Case in point: There’s a guy that works in the appliances department that stops by my department to chat every once in awhile.  Usually, it’s just goofing off and talking about store “drama.”  I told him about the show last night and he looked genuinely perplexed.

“What?  Not a fan?” I asked.
“It’s not that,” he replied, “I’ve just never heard of him.

After doing some mental math, I discovered that he was 6 years old when Andrew W.K.’s first major label album was released.

Six.  SIX.

Anyway, watered down mojitos and making conversation with really young strangers made the evening especially unique.  For the first time in my life, a tall person asked if I’d like to get in front of him to see the stage better.  I almost shed a tear; I’d never experienced such consideration at a show before.

And, of course, I had my ass handed to me by the crowd.  A little pixie of a girl kept attempting to push past me, elbowing me every chance she got.

The last show I went to was a Kat Edmonson show in February.  It was a seated performance and my friends, boyfriend, and I were on the lowest end of the age spectrum.  Prior to that, I attended a seated Eels show at the newly revamped Lincoln Theater.  It was a seated performance as well, and my brother and I sat in the balcony as the band played.

I thought that I was living the life, finally comfortable for the first time during a concert.  Hmm, did I just get too impatient with the bullshit of aching knees and arches after four hours of standing?

I don’t know, dude.

I don’t know.

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Author: Leila

Just another case of arrested development.

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