Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Anyway, Zon and I went out to see them on Friday. From the very first song, my heart sank, and I realized that they suck live. The ladies were a little too cutesy for my taste, and Anna was using some jive open tuning for every song. Still, I stayed to hear them play "Minneapolis," and it was awesome, even though Anna punted the solo. I practically ran out of the Music Hall of Williamsburg after that. I was wearing a "nostalgic" outfit ... something I thought I might have worn in the 90s ... an "ironic" orange-red polo from Lacoste and a pair of grey Levi's, plus some Pumas (of course).
I don't know when this current wave of nostalgia will end. Usually, my method of keeping nostalgia at bay is to have sex with one different NYU student per year, just to prove that I've still got it. I sort of did the same thing this month, though it was disastrous, life-altering sex that I wish I could take back for his sake. But then, this show, and a different sort of temporary salvation. For one magical night at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, a band named That Dog cured me of my regret and poignant, bittersweet sorry - just by making me realize that I missed nothing - nothing! - by not seeing them 15 years ago.