Sing us a song you're the piano band
Seeing Keane live solidified one issue I had with the band - the lead singer is undoubtedly a doppelganger for a lesbian I know. The first time we were introduced she immediately took my breath away, "Oh my God, it's Keane." That cherubic moon face, those rosy cheeks, that lion's mane, it must be! I have met her numerous times since and still cannot recall her name. Every time we speak my mind is preoccupied with "Keeeeeaaaaaane! lalalala, somewhere only we know, dadadada..."
We arrived at the very end of Regina Spektor’s last song. I really was there to see Keane. My nightmare realized. She was passionately singing when some frat boy hurled an insult onto the stage. Regina caught the insult midair and integrated a “Fuck you” into the lyric she was singing. The 20 member audience gave her a standing ovation. I love her even more.
Most of my predictions for the night were dead on - from the asexual swagger of the lead singer to the heavy use of purple mood lighting. During the highly anticipated rendition of “Somewhere Only We Know” the woods motif was employed. A snowy forest was projected onto the stage from the perspective of the viewer traveling down a road. What was strange, however, was that this scene featured a wandering moose, seriously. Was the audience the moose? The singer? Is my love like a moose?
The key component that I predicted incorrectly was the make up of the audience. Thirty percent of the audience was comprised of VH1 moms and dads, but the other 70% were the high school kids that were embarrassed to be seen with them (0.0001% = those accompanying their aunt because she is a nice niece). Actually, every teenager there seemed to be minus guardian and on a date. The actually capacity was probably double since every boy was standing behind every girl with arms wrapped around her waist whispering sweet nothings into her ear as the bill of his baseball cap pushed her head to the side as he kissed her neck. Where are we, a Dave Matthews concert? Not only was I reliving prom, but each of my four dateless years of high school. I can guarantee that nation-wide the class of ’05 is checking the box next to “Somewhere Only We Know” as class song (note: yes, this is the only Keane song title I know).
This experience was reminiscent of the time that I was a freshman in college and went to see Hanson play a free concert at Sea World. Oh Taylor Hanson, why are you so ambiguously blond? At the end, I asked my philosophical friend Monique her thoughts. “Uh, everyone there did not know they are now at the stage where they need to wear deodorant. It smelled like B.O.” Haha, why yes Monique, I too felt out of place and world weary. Let’s not attempt to revisit our youth. It stinks.
We arrived at the very end of Regina Spektor’s last song. I really was there to see Keane. My nightmare realized. She was passionately singing when some frat boy hurled an insult onto the stage. Regina caught the insult midair and integrated a “Fuck you” into the lyric she was singing. The 20 member audience gave her a standing ovation. I love her even more.
Most of my predictions for the night were dead on - from the asexual swagger of the lead singer to the heavy use of purple mood lighting. During the highly anticipated rendition of “Somewhere Only We Know” the woods motif was employed. A snowy forest was projected onto the stage from the perspective of the viewer traveling down a road. What was strange, however, was that this scene featured a wandering moose, seriously. Was the audience the moose? The singer? Is my love like a moose?
The key component that I predicted incorrectly was the make up of the audience. Thirty percent of the audience was comprised of VH1 moms and dads, but the other 70% were the high school kids that were embarrassed to be seen with them (0.0001% = those accompanying their aunt because she is a nice niece). Actually, every teenager there seemed to be minus guardian and on a date. The actually capacity was probably double since every boy was standing behind every girl with arms wrapped around her waist whispering sweet nothings into her ear as the bill of his baseball cap pushed her head to the side as he kissed her neck. Where are we, a Dave Matthews concert? Not only was I reliving prom, but each of my four dateless years of high school. I can guarantee that nation-wide the class of ’05 is checking the box next to “Somewhere Only We Know” as class song (note: yes, this is the only Keane song title I know).
This experience was reminiscent of the time that I was a freshman in college and went to see Hanson play a free concert at Sea World. Oh Taylor Hanson, why are you so ambiguously blond? At the end, I asked my philosophical friend Monique her thoughts. “Uh, everyone there did not know they are now at the stage where they need to wear deodorant. It smelled like B.O.” Haha, why yes Monique, I too felt out of place and world weary. Let’s not attempt to revisit our youth. It stinks.
posted by lex @ 2:56 PM
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