Thoughts from an Interpol show

I went to the Interpol show with a friend of mine and we downed a couple beers before the show began. I have been trying to quit smoking for the last few years, and I am doing fairly well with it, but seeing live music and having a few drinks is a major cue for me to have a smoke. I had two cigarettes in my possession left over from a party the previous weekend. Like a complete retard I stuck the two ciggies in the pocket of my shorts without realizing that this would most likely cause them to get bent or perhaps break in half. They broke in half of course. Unfazed, I went into the bathroom just before the show started, entered one of the stalls, squeezed the tobacco out of one end, and smoked it like a joint while pretending to take a piss. Definitely a watershed moment in my life.

A few years ago being a fan of Interpol was prima facie evidence of having good taste in music. After the critical acclaim and greater popularity (and major label deal), I suspect the “cool” thing to do now is dump on them and say their most recent release doesn’t stack up to their two previous LPs. It very well may not; I have not heard the new record in its entirety, but judging from their recent appearance at The Rave in Milwaukee they are still crafting very good songs (insert played out Joy Division reference here).

I went back to the bathroom midway through the show relive the glory of smoking on a toilet. I came back out and watched the rest of the set. I was also keeping an eye on the really sweaty dude in front of us who would mouth the lyrics for the first part of every song, and then half way through he’d have his back to the stage and be talking to some other dude or trying to chat up a couple of obvious lesbians next to him.

I kept trying to take pictures of the band on my cell phone, but I was too far away and all of the pictures ended up looking like I was snapping shot of a Lite Brite board. We left the show quickly after the encore ended; rejecting the free Pete Yorn tickets the staff was trying to us as we walked out. I bet the sweaty dude was all over that shit.