Target Center, 6/9/08: Big Gay Al's Big Gay Concert Tour

Let's not bury the lead on this one: I cried during the True Colors Tour. Okay? There. I said it. I may be a hard-nosed, hard-charging, high-powered, ass-kicking, red-blooded American bitch, but does a bitch not bleed? We do, my friends, we do, especially in the presence of 80's New Wave royalty. And homosexuals. The gays make us cry, and not in the way they make Pat Robertson cry.

We had box seats (haha, BOX, like vagina, so appropriate considering the number of lesbians in attendance), given to me by a local ad agency as payment for mounting a moose head they intended to hang in their lobby. (They requested the addition of a propeller beanie to the moose, something I struggled with professionally, as I always aim to please the client, but also to respect the dignity of the fine creatures I work with. Ultimately, we compromised on a rabbit fur lined bomber, which is the sort of hat I feel a moose would wear if moose wore hats.) Unfortunately, there was no big screen to enhance our viewing experience, so the performers looked like tiny ant people and it was really like we had nosebleed seats, only with a private bathroom.

We missed most of The Cliks (because the show started at 6:30, while I was finishing my beer and nachos at a nearby bar), which I now regret a little bit after hearing their singer perform with Cyndi during her set, as he was very good. THIS JUST IN: He used to be a she. Oh, okay. That explains some things.

Tegan and Sara were quite enjoyable, though they didn't really get a chance in their short set to rock out as much as I suspect they are capable of. They did "Walking with a Ghost," and I thought again how every time I hear that song it sounds like "smoking with a ghost." Does anyone else hear it that way? Anyway, I'm a fan and I would probably get all fluttery inside if one of them came on to me.

I'm not going to talk about Rosie O'Donnell because she didn't actually perform music and I am too lazy to extend this summary into the "comedy/storytelling/angry lesbian with a dead mother" territory.

On then, to The B-52's! God bless The B-52's for still being alive. Oh, except I've just learned that one of them isn't. I'm an asshole. Umm. Some fun facts: Cindy Wilson is the only hetero B-52. Kate Pierson and her lady love run a very groovy motel in the Catskills. Fred Schneider's vocal technique is called "sprechgesang." Keith Strickland dedicated a song during the show to Ricky Wilson, who I now gather was Cindy's brother and died in 1985 from complications of AIDS. I really have to start doing research in advance.

Well, those kids put on a damn good show, and they didn't even seem to despise performing "Love Shack." There was a man dancing very excitedly in the aisle during most of their set, and the way he was silhouetted with pink lighting in the background made it look like a very gay iTunes commercial. And you know what? He looked so happy, I'd buy whatever he was selling.

And finally, Cyndi Lauper. Okay, it's like this: There are some performers that you don't really expect to see live in your lifetime, because while you may appreciate them and be aware of the fact that they are legends, you're not, like, their number-one fan and you wouldn't readily shell out a bunch of cash for a ticket. Cyndi Lauper was like that for me. She's So Unusual came out before I could walk, and I'm glad that I've grown up in a world in which Cyndi exists, but I didn't think too much about it before seeing her. And it must be all the Betty Friedan I've been reading lately, but it finally struck me during her performance that I am deeply, deeply grateful for her existence, and if I ever had a baby girl I would want to teach her to dance to She's So Unusual. And so yeah, I cried during "Time After Time." IT IS A BEAUTIFUL SONG, OKAY??? GOD.

In the end, all the bands came out for a final encore and a bunch of balloons of all colors and sizes fell from the ceiling as they performed "Everyday People." It was like gay Sesame Street. And then, surprise surprise, they ended with everyone singing "True Colors," and the backdrop lit up with neon letters spelling out "equality," and I thought about the nice lesbian couple in the front row who told Carson Kressley they'd been together for 13 years and I cried again.

OH MY GOD, SO PAINFULLY EARNEST.

As a demonstration of my support for the cause, I'm currently working on a mounting of two squirrel bucks in flagrante delicto, which I plan on shipping to Michele Bachmann's office.

Probably that won't help anything.

6/9/08

6/9/08
True Colors Tour with Cyndi Lauper, the B-52s, Tegan and Sara, The Clicks, Rosie O'Donnell and some Queer Guy @ Target Center, 38-128 bucks, 6:30. We've got box seats, dudes!
The Benny Weinbeck Group @ Brix Bistro & Wine Bar, zero bucks, 6:30. Benny's a good piano player and good guy.
Roe Family Singers @ 331, zero bucks, 9:00. I have no further commentary as I am not familiar with these Singers but it is free and gin/vodka tonics are only $2.50. I think I got drunk there once on such a night. That's cheap!

The Turf Club, 6/7/08: Some bands are just in it for the pussy.

When reviewing a show, it is always helpful to know the names of the bands that you saw, so I am starting at a disadvantage here. In my defense, I wasn't planning on going out last night. A friend and I had gone to Little T's in late afternoon and split an order of nachos supreme ("Do you know what you're getting into? Are you sure you don't want the half order?" the awkward waiter asked us, unaware of the nacho carnage he was about to witness. I mean, I'm not obese anymore, but my stomach remembers those days and can still accommodate a lot of food.), so I was planning on spending the evening on the sofa, digesting and stuff, but then my co-taxidermist texted to inform me that there was a show at the Turf, "big show, cute hipster boys guaranteed." And seeing as how I'd spent the past several weekends at home alone, alternately reading angry feminist literature and working on my online dating profile (not a productive combo, FYI; doesn't exactly lend itself to the kind of mindset in which you can compose an adorable "about me" section), I said digestion be damned (out loud, "Digestion be damned!" I proclaimed), popped a couple Tums and headed to the Turf.

So here's where I start piecing together info to determine the bands I probably saw, since I didn't know at the time. Pretty sure I was there for the Tight Phantomz, Tornavalanche, and Vampire Hands portion of the evening, with a bonus performance by Yellow Swans, whom I gather were supposed to play the night before, but were held up by some fine Midwestern weather. I should preface all of this by saying the musical styles on the bill were not exactly my cup of tea, so if you're a fan of the aforementioned bands (and I gather there are many, and a very active message board) you should not get all prickly over my nonenthusiasm.

That said, I kind of liked Tight Phantomz, despite the creative approach they've taken to pluralization. It might be because it was the first band I saw and I was feeling cheerful because Father Goose was playing on the TV above the bar, but I thought the bassist/singer had nice moves. Like, he was obviously enjoying himself and it was entertaining to witness his joy. In contrast, Tornavalanche struck me as being in it for the girls and not the music. Also, four of the five members were wearing sleeveless shirts, so... minus four points for men in sleeveless shirts. You know that they masturbate in front of a mirror.

I couldn't tell you much about Vampire Hands because by that time I was drunk and eating the chocolate Skittles that my hunting buddy had purchased from the vending machine because her friend told us that they were gross and we wanted to confirm. (I'd say the lighter-colored ones are okay, but the dark ones were, in fact, gross and chemical-y.) It was hot in the club and suddenly the lyrics to Carly Simon's "Two Hot Girls (On a Hot Summer Night)" popped into my head, which should tell you just precisely how unqualified I am to be reviewing this show.

And finally, Yellow Swans. By this point in the evening I had taken a seat at the bar near the TV, which was showing a different, very dark-looking Leslie Caron movie. (IMDB leads me to believe it was The L-Shaped Room, plot keywords: "kitchen sink realism, abortion, pregnancy, lesbian, independent film." Jesus Christ, Leslie Caron, I had no idea!) The band set up and played on the floor rather than the stage, which was a big hit with their fans, who took the opportunity to encircle the band and sway, entranced. I was sleepy and drinking water and my feet hurt and I wanted to go home to bed, so my grumpy thoughts on Yellow Swans were: very loud, kind of reminded me of Explosions in the Sky in that they are very fond of distortion pedals, only not really like Explosions in the Sky in that they're not very accessible and I can't imagine their music being used to score a heartfelt network TV drama such as Friday Night Lights. They did have their fans though. If you want to call me a retard (and you wouldn't be the first), you could liken it to how some people really appreciate those hugely expensive black canvases that hang in every modern art museum, because those people get it, or whatever, but I am a rube and I don't get it. The fans are likely saddened to know that Yellow Swans, according to their MySpace blog, are finishing up their scheduled performances this month and then "moving on."

Me? I'm moving on to the True Colors Tour, hitting the Target Center this Monday, which, once again, should reinforce how unqualified I am to be reviewing local indie rock shows. My fellow taxidermists are not generally comfortable with the sort of folk the True Colors Tour is targeting (read: the HOMOSEXUALS), but I do like challenging convention. As long as I don't have to stay out too late, and it's not too loud, and I have a comfortable place to sit. I like challenging convention under those circumstances.