Both Cambridge and Somerville declared their smoking ban at midnight last night. I think clubs are going to get weird. It's already confusing to go into a place for a show, where you have to present your ID to one person, get a wrist band, present the ticket to another, get a stamp -- soon they'll be slapping The Patch on your bicep just for crowd control.
So, Built to Spill at the Paradise last night! YAY!
Aw cute little Doug Martsch. I wanted to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white toast and cut off the crusts. After the show I'm all, "Doug -- can I play video games with you?"
He's like 40.
What a great fucking show. I tend to be more creative with adjectives, but nothing else seems to fit quite so well. They played almost everything off of Perfect from Now On, which is my favorite album. And they even played "Car" -- my favorite BTS song, from There's Nothing Wrong with Love.
I'll confess to you this: I heard pretty much every good song on their most recent four albums, mainly because I went to the show both Monday and Tuesday night. I figured the set lists would be different, and whatever I didn't hear Monday night I'd hear Tuesday. Obsessive as it sounds, my strategy worked.
My ear drum, however, did not.
My ear on Sunday night started getting a little weird at the JLC show -- flickering in and out, popping a bunch. It wasn't really loud in Lupo's so I couldn't figure it out. I mean, it was rock concert loud, but not Village Underground loud. I plugged my nose and did the regulation of air pressure thing that works on planes, to no avail.
And Monday as soon as the music in the Paradise started, I screamed in pain as my eardrum exploded. It hurt so bad I could barely breathe at first, and then all I could hear was my own voice, and then all I could hear was nothing.
They don't sell earplugs at the Paradise because they sit so securely on the belief (and usually truth) that their sound mix is the best in Boston. But it was too loud Monday night, and I had no way out.
Anyway, when I left the show after cringing through the whole thing, I was completely deaf in my right ear. I was SO pissed. So pissed. That lasted until yesterday night, when it was time for the next show. I brought ear plugs but ended up not needing them because the volume seemed under control last night.
I've become a little more aware of the need to take care of my ears from now on. I go hear too much music to not be more careful. This week: five shows in six days. That's just disgusting. I'll be deaf by 30.
The openers right before BTS were great, and I have to get their CD. I think they are called The Delusion, and they felt like warm and fuzzy loud guitar heartachey garagerock. Doug played bass with them, and then they joined BTS for their last song, which was this 15 minute long gloomy tripped-out jam session that managed to keep everyone's attention, even those who weren't on drugs.
The club was quiet between songs, during which random requests were screamed one at a time from the balconies. The band ignored them all and played whatever the hell they felt like. "Free Bird" was requested consistently throughout Tuesday night's show. One of Those Guys is at every show, now, huh?
So yay, like I said.
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I just have to put up this entry Ruby wrote in my guestbook because I'm still pissing my pants over it. Her post is in response to my recent help wanted ad for a house boy:
"You know, I thought I'd be able to find crap on house boys for hire on the internet but there is nothing. You can get a three-foot-tall Russian hooker with double D's and a lightning bolt shaved into her pubic hair delivered to your home in less than an hour or your first bj is free but you can't find a damn sessy boy to fix you a sandwich in the newd! What's up with that?!"
I am in love with my friends.
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