"The Marathon Concert" & other stories

'Ello, you lucky people!

Seeing a band you like live is a really, for lack of a better term, "magical" experience. Or at least it should be. These are people who's work you really admire or connect to or even just think is catchy, and you can now see them in person a few (hundred in some cases) feet away. Last night, I had the pleasure of seeing a favorite band of mine, Gogol Bordello, with two of my favorite people, Joey and Chelsey. This was an interesting concert all around. It was the Halloween concert at the Boulder Theatre (a place that looks almost identical to the Bluebird in Denver) and so probably 50% of the people were dressed up in some form of odd garb. One person (I believe it was a female but I couldn't tell) was dressed in a large bunny costume. There were some devils and Zulu warriors and a ton of drunk bitches. I hear drunk bitch is the new black. One wore a furry white suit with fiber-optic lights built in. Like a glowing monster. Weirdos.

There was a dj on stage when we got there and after the opening act and he played some very eclectic sounds which I thought was pretty sweet. The "warm-up" band called themselves The Dub Trio. There were in fact three of them. They did instrumental music that was part hardcore, part reggae, part odd electronica. It was pretty clear they were excellent musicians but there's only so much of their type of music people can take when they come to hear Gypsy-punk rock. Dub Trio would have been great for a half-hour. Too bad they played for 50 minutes. Feedback becomes irritating after that long, no matter how you dress it. Plus EVERYTHING they played sounded like what they just played. And there wasn't ever really a break between songs, just 50 minutes continual noise.

So after them, we had about a half-hour more of the dj, which is kinda customary. Concert promoters and bands are pretty smart. They make the audience wait so long to hear who they want to hear and they start getting so antsy and tired, that by time the headliner does take the stage, the audience is twice as excited and happy. Good move. So, I had to open the Ballet office on Tuesday and open again this morning, meaning I was already tired from all day Tues and was gonna be even more tired when I got home, but I figured it was worth it. Gogol Bordello took the stage at 10:30 and it was just non-stop rocking from then on. Such a frenetic and energetic band, it really was a terrific live show. Eugene Hutz, a Ukrainian immigrant and lead singer of GB, ran around the stage like a crazy person and continually knocked over his mic stand, causing this one roadie to come out and pick it back up. Over and over again. I think by the end of the night, Eugene was knocking it over just to make this guy pick it up again. Pretty funny.

So, most headliners play for an hour, maybe 90 minutes if it's a very lengthy show. Gogol Bordello proceeded to play for two hours. At about 11:45, they left the stage before the obligatory encore, which I figured would be a song or two. Oh no, their encore was 45 minutes long and their final song was easily 10 minutes due to three or four false endings. And after everything was all over, Eugene invited all the crowd to an after-party. It wasn't just a generic, "let's all keep the party going," or anything like that. He gave an address. Nuts, these rockstars are.

So it's 12:30 and I was prepared to get home by 1 or so and be okay. But the adventure doesn't end there, my friends. I'm embarrassed to admit that I get lost pretty easily if I'm in a place I've never been or not been very often. I hate it passionately, but it happens. So it took me probably an extra 10 minutes to get back to the road that becomes Hwy 36. My knowledge of Boulder ends there. A road (28th I believe) turns into 36 and I'm out. So after getting slightly lost getting back to 36, I figured I was okay once I was on it. Nay, good people. There was an accident on 36 and the cops forced everyone off of it. "Now," to quote the film Snatch, "we're fucked." I get off and have no idea where to go. How does one get out of Boulder if not on the turnpike? So I'm driving around for a long-ass time looking for SOMETHING familiar. And since I've traditionally avoided Boulder like the plague (no, not JUST because of the hippies) nothing is familiar.

I called Joey to ask how she and Chels got out. They took the Foothills Pkwy which becomes 36. Okay... so where am I in relation to that? Joey did her best to figure out where I was but I had gotten so very lost. I ended up almost in the mountains TWICE. Fuck. So, it's dark, late, there's really no cars around to try to follow, and I'm somewhere I've never been. Finally I find Pearl St. I recognize that name from the one time I went to that God-awful outdoor mall, aka "Din of Bodily Filth and Hemp." I give Joey another call, this is easily a 30 minutes since I called earlier, and she hands it off to Cody who tells me Pearl runs into Foothills and I will then finally be able to get out of Boulder. I was filled with some apprehension because for the first little bit, it was taking me back the way I came, however I soon was able to get on 36. The accident occurred just before Foothills merges onto the turnpike, which is how my compadres avoided it. A truck somehow ended up on its top. I didn't see any people, who presumably were taken to the hospital well before this. I got home at quarter to 2 in the morning. And I had to wake up at 7:30. Gross. This boy is tired. Great concert though.

One final bit before I sign off of this blog that is now nearly as long as last night's excursion. If people in Downtown Denver got a ticket everytime they ran a red light, the people in the entire state of Colorado would never have to pay taxes again. Every single day when I drive down there, I see no fewer than 10 people running a red light. But you're sort of forced to. The lights are timed so even if the flow of traffic doesn't necessarily require the light to change, it will. And people who want to go home after a long day of work don't really want to stop at every red light. Just stupid. Food for though, politicians. Just downtown. Not even all of Denver. Quoting Todd, "tink bou' dat."

Talk at you later and keep circulating the tapes.