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December 3, 2005
Mae Shi, Food Hole, 11.25.05
Okay, there is so much leading up to this show. If you just want juicy tidbits on the show itself, go underneath the stars.
So, a year ago I went to L.A. The city I hate and I hate movies that take place in LA and I hate that the citizens employ way too much smelly body product. I went there for the soul purpose of a date with the Mae Shi. I had recently come across Terrorbird and fallen slowly and deeply in love. I was dating this CD, if one can be romantic with a piece of painted plastic, I was.
So I wandered through downtown LA—which as you may or may not know, ironically resembles Escape From LA in some parts—in search of nouveaux relocated club, The Smell. After my long and arduous journey, the anticipated fruits of my labor were yanked from right under my nose: The Mae Shi decided not to play at the last minute because somebody’s mom was in the hospital. Okay, okay. Sad and fair enough.
I began an e-mail rapport with the impresarios of Terrorbird, my new boyfriend. The long distance relationship was not as tough as they say. Terrorbird sent me posters of itself and various trinkets of affection to apologize for the no-show. So, you can imagine how pleased I was when the date was set for lover boy to come to my hometown a full year later.
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Sorry to say that I stayed away for the opening act, The Pope, because the pounding on my temples from squirming wisdom teeth rendered me a temporary hater of noise.
About 20 minutes after I hid from the openers in an adjacent club, The Tube, I got a text message that I was already missing TMS! I forgot that 15-minute sets exist in some venues and not just basements. I raced over to Food Hole and elbowed the little kids to wedge my-taller-self to the front.
I was filled with total joy-crack as they bashed out old familiars as well as two new jams that sounded incredible and catchy the first time around (similar to “Vampire”). Ezra (vocalist) pretty much crouched over his mic the whole time and his prepubescent screaming sounded the exact same as on the album: Sooooo good. For that matter, the whole sound was analogous to their recorded songs. Jeff Byron (keys, guitar, vocals) jumped around like a good intentioned monkey and dove into the sea of crowd with a puerile smile on his face. Actually, if I remember correctly, he was the only one smiling and the rest were wearing six weeks of tour on their expressions—like a bad hangover type look. Corey (drums) threw his peddle all the way to the back of the room (where, unbeknownst to him, nobody happened to be standing at that particular moment). Then, to the misfortune of us all, they decided that, after just 20 minutes of show, the PA broke. (Which it didn’t, according to 1) Bennett the soundman 2) Every body else.)
The kids didn’t seem disappointed, like “yeah, that’s rock’n’roll, dude” while I stared on in disbelief. They happily scuffled out of the venue while I was brainstorming how to put the fire out that was coming out of my eyes. Last time I felt that angry was when Zero 7 delivered a whopping 30 minutes of show at the Roseland, preceded by my purchase of a $17 ticket. It doesn’t matter to me how punk or DIY the fantasy-fun-fun world a band lives in is, the parental allowance the kids saved-up to go to the show/the gas the parents purchased to get them there/and the Iraqi children that had their arms blown off to get the gas into the parents’ mini van…is very real. That’s reality man!
So, while I feel the warm stream of anticipation running down my leg just thinking about the next album, I have broken up with Terrorbird. It’s hard to separate our two dates gone sour from all the other aspects of our meaningful relationship. Perhaps I’ll just stick to a long distance relationship with the next piece of plastic that steals my heart.
Posted by Jenna at December 3, 2005 5:04 PM
Comments
i'msorry it hadto be thatway
Posted by: ezra at December 11, 2005 8:59 PM
