Sam and I went to see the Kings of Leon tonight. He really likes the new album (I think I prefer the first, if I can be said to prefer one or the other), and he got on the guest list tonight, so we were able to attend the sold out show. The crowd was about half hipster, and half frat boys. Afterward, Sam pointed out that there is a dearth of cock rock right now, and those guys will latch onto anything that sorta sounds like it. Anyway, it was an altogether annoying crowd. Some observations:
- Dude, if you have a dress on, take off the pants. It's a dress because you don't need to wear pants with it, and if it's too short to be a dress, honey, get a shirt that fits. And take off the fucking leggings.
- On the same note, if your shirt is so long it covers your short shorts, figure something else out. Because you look ridiculous.
- The full body shakes? A seizure? No, an inventive new dancing style that made me want to find some leather strap to shove in his mouth, just in case he swallowed his tongue. Keep still, frat-loser. Nod your head, or move slightly back and forth. Otherwise, you look like you got a disease.
- Okay. Neon pink, green and yellow nikes with no socks, a button-down work-style dress with a wide emerald green belt, HUGE neon pink plastic earrings, and a hairdo that probably took three hours to make look like it took five minutes do not an attractive combination make. Look, hon, you're trying too hard. It's okay to like some hipster/trendster clothing choices. I myself am carrying a purse that is more trendy than classic, and I have a nose ring. But when trendy throws up on you? You just look stupid.
- Dude, holding up your phone at a concert makes you a giant tool. I know, we've all done it, but that doesn't make us any less of tools. Have you ever received a phone call from a jerk at a concert? You probably feel one of two ways about it: a) you asshole, you're at a concert I want to be at, so fucking leave me along or b) what? I can't hear you. Is that clapping? What's that noise in the background? Where ARE you? A subway tunnel? Seriously. Do your friends a favor and leave them alone at 10:15 on a Saturday night. If they wanted to hear the Kings of Leon, they'd be at the concert.
- Shit, don't bring your mom to a concert at the Riv, no matter how much you love her. I guarantee she'll hate every loud, uncomfortable minute of it.
- Are you the kind of person who claps along to songs? Screw you. I'm so against crowd concert participation it's ridiculous. I don't even clap if one of the band members is onstage exaggeratedly clapping his hands over his head to try to involve the audience. Anti-effort? Maybe, but also anti-lameass, and since concert crowds are nothing but lameasses these days, I'll keep my hands to myself, thanks.
- And look, after the show, I don't care how drunk you are, you idiot, but you should really learn how to tell if a cab is occupied. It's like, the easiest skill on the planet to pick up. Number lit? Free cab! Number not lit? Occupied. If I had a dollar for every time some drunk loser tried to flag down an occupied cab tonight, I'd be able to at least treat Sam and I to a meal at Fogo de Chao. It's so not hard, it's easy. And while you're at it, drunky, how about NOT harrassing the people who legitimately hailed those cabs? How about not sticking your head in the back window and trying to bribe them into letting you jump in? How about NOT attempting to open the back door of the cab and jump in while there is already a passenger in the car?
- And finally, I was saying this to Sam earlier: every time I start to think drinking = not so bad, I go to an event like this, where I see asshole upon asshole being drunk and assoholic. I saw one girl practically drag her falling over, slurringly embarrassing date out of the venue, while he bumped into random strangers. Another guy RAMMED into me on the street, while we waited for the bus. There were countless drunk idiots trying to catch cabs. And then, right as we were almost home, we walked by a couple of people--a belligerantly drunk male, yelling at his sober-seeming (compared to him) lady-friend, telling her how awful she was, and how she was accusing him of lying and how dare she and he wasn't a liar, and she just sighed and said, I wasn't calling you a liar, and I thought, girl, get out of that relationship now. Belligerant drunk = bad bad bad.
Anyway, the Kings of Leon were fine (through my earplugs), if slightly too loud for my taste. I couldn't see a damn thing for 99% of the show, but I'll say this for Caleb Followill--he's got a niiiiiiice voice. It's dreamy. You don't even have to see him to think about doing bad things with him. For all I know, he's ugly as a toad. But he sounds delicious.
This is the best concert review I've read in a long time. Thanks for the laughs.
Posted by: Dadmo | May 20, 2007 at 04:58 PM