Passion Pit

Had a date with my honey to see Passion Pit at the Granada. I am not much of a concert enjoyer, but it’s one of Brian’s things, so we go. I much prefer free music at home. If I get a wild hair and want to see the band in action, I pop open youtube and watch. It’s crazy, I know. All for free, without the mind numbing standing around, loud people or the hour wait between acts as they switch out their equipment.

Yeesh, I sound old.

Brian likes to arrive at concerts early. I used to be down with that before my knees got creaky and before I turned 20. Still, we arrived at the Granada two hours before the opening act. That's one hour of merciless heat outdoors and one hour of standing in a dark room indoors. Fun times.

I think we upped the average age by 10 years. Or 20. And, since we don’t have spiked hair or wear our shorts down around our ankles, we did the only other thing that could make us fit in with a crowd of teens. We did what any elderly couple would do and rounded us up some chairs and spent the next hour firmly planted in them while we waited for the doors to open. And we talked about how the heat reminded us of the big heat wave of 1959. Then, Brian’s dentures got stuck in the Freebird’s burrito he was finishing up and it was then when we realized we were no longer hip. Here's our spot two hours before the concert.

It might be safe to say we'd fit in better with the Hal Ketchum crowd.

Part of our hour long wait outdoors included observations about how the crowd at Kirby’s Steakhouse on one block was probably different from the crowd at Condom Sense on another block within our view. I'm just guessing.

I decided to leave my ID in the car. When the bouncer asked for it, I just told him I'm 31. He searched my eyes to see if I was telling the truth. There was a time when I’d be asked to show ID and telling my age wasn’t enough. But, I guess as Bouncer Man searched my eyes, he found such depth of wisdom and strength of character that only 31 years of life can give you because he let me in without hesitation.

Either that, or the bags under my eyes that only 31 years of life can give you were a dead giveaway.

The opening acts were just okay. The first guy reminded me of the secretary bird on Bedknobs and Broomsticks with his jerky movements and his hair reminded me of Conan O’Brien. Don’t you just know the mom in me wanted to jump up there, lick my hand and give his hair a little momma pat down.

And, also spoon feed him a tub of lard and gently break the news that the tight roll was a regrettable fashion choice of the 80's and would do well to remain a distant memory of the 80's. He does have lovely ankles, though.

The thing that kills me the most about concerts is how long it takes to dismantle a set and then reset the stage for the next band. Ugh. We put people on the moon. Why does it take an hour to change sets?

And, in that hour wait, there isn't much to do unless you want to lose the spot you waited two hours to earn. So, you find yourself numbly staring at the screen flashing ads for upcoming concerts. After seeing the same ads multiple times, I finally started paying attention because what else do you do for the next 52 minutes of downtime? My favorite was for Peaches.

Two things about this ad. First, who doesn't want to experience Drums of Death? Second, I finally noticed that last line.

Nothing promises a good concert like sassy and sweaty done by a complex woman.

Passion Pit itself/themselves was/were really good.

I love how this guy looked like he just slipped out of bed and rolled with how his hair turned out.

But my kids do the same thing, so who am I to judge?

Maybe they learned that from Vanilla Ice their dad.

I actually did enjoy most of Passion Pit's music. It’s not the kind of music I usually listen to, but neither is Kidz Bop and I find myself listening to that almost daily. Nothing like hearing some prepubescent kid sing Superstar to me 154 times in a row. (Noah likes that repeat button).

Not only were the music and the company good, I walked away with some pretty sweet dance moves. This is just a snippet.



And those very well may have been worth being subjected to the tight roll, battling extreme boredom and lack of stimulation between sets and viewing 179 Peaches ads.