Thursday, October 9, 2008
Death Cab and cutie
By ART MCGREGOR
Blog on the Run editor
The Lady and cpn talk so quickly that we all were out of breath before the concert even began. Actually, before we parked the car.
I love hearing those two talk because not only do they tell entertaining stories, but they tell them in entertaining ways. Their delivery is rockstar.
But we needed an energy drink after the stories of Friday Night Fights at Club 185.
"[Sonbreath] sent me a text about it at 8:30 a.m. the next morning," The Lady said.
TD Hoodie, Peaches, cpn and I finished two 32 ounce beers in about two-point-five minutes. Peaches made like Barry Sanders shoving her way through the crowd and got us to within about 10 deep of lead singer Ben Gibbard. I held on to the back of Hoodie's hoodie when bursting through the crowd.
What were Death Cab fans going to do about it?! It's like 7,000 mes. They ain't doing shit. Mainly because I wouldn't have done shit. When confrontation presents itself, I like to elbow it in the back after it walks past me and then act like I didn't do it.
Death Cab didn't play "405," but they played everything else I liked. They played five songs off "Plans," and the only one of those I don't really like is "Soul Meets Body." They played my favorites on "Narrow Stairs" and the requisite few from "Transatlanticism" (try saying that word when drunk) ... "Sound of Settling," "New Year," "Expo '86" (awesome), "Title and Registration," and the closer "Tiny Vessels"/"Transatlanticism." A FIVE-SONG encore. Unreal. Not ONE bit of political commentary other than a "make sure to vote" message at the end of the show.
Props on that.
They come around once every two years. Their music means a lot to me. I have no problem saying that. Music can make a big difference in someone's life especially if that someone spends a lot of time by his Art McGregorself.
That's the best thing about music. To write a song for everyone that speaks directly to one person. Only that one person is about 500,000 people.
I spend a lot of time thinking about myself and most of it's negative. I can't stand the way certain relationships in the past have ended and howevergaythismaysound I credit Death Cab's music with getting me through some really tough times when I didn't know if I'd make it through another day. (Not in a suicidal way, just in a way like, "fuck, this sucks I want to stay in bed." But sometimes I did stay in bed.) So it's emotional in that respect and to enjoy it outdoors in a great environment on a cool, crisp night just makes it that much more amazing.
Also amazing is the blonde I met outside Club 185 last night.
Spent time at a high top (yes!) with Bo Bice and The Pacifist. For awhile, I was the only one there without a beard. Their friend also came (unbearded) with a smoking hot brunette (unbearded) who was really nice and I think we did some shots (shottttts) before I headed outside with the blonde.
She was a real doozie, a former flight attendant born in 1986. Obviously I didn't take her home, but it was a rare night. Not rare that I didn't take her home but. Props to her friend. The friend genuinely seemed to be rooting for me. The friend usually always tries to fuck you over so she can go home and watch "Sex and the City" with the other girl and talk about how she's just like Charlotte but she's really not because she's just not.
The girl from Reynoldsburg actually was pretty smart and we smoked about four Camel Lights outside. I also gave her a piggy-back ride west on Blenkner. Then carried her ("into the hotel after your wedding" style) across Mohawk where he friend dropped trou and took a piss right behind her car. At 2:34 a.m. she sent me a picture of her cat. Really. Her cat. I am sure we talked about cats at some point in the night.
I did pretty well for myself. The girl was fucking hot and pointed out that she was "really drunk" at least four times. Before, I'd never had a girl ask for a piggy-back ride that wasn't a relative under the age of 8.
I walked home around 2 a.m. and fell asleep at about 2:30 a.m.
A text from The Godfather woke me up.
I wasn't dreaming.