Okay. So. I've got a dark nasty part in my heart for Houston concerts. No one comes to see national touring acts that aren't at the top of Pitchfork's playlist (Lemuria, Los Campsinos!), people are unreceptive of artists that they didn't come to see (All the douchebaggery at Dinosaur Jr. where people were screaming DINOSAUR! DINOSAUR! during Built to Spill...), people are unreceptive of artists they did come to see (talking over Andrew Bird's narrative. or the nearly 300 hipster flashmob at Fucked Up! that made a grand exodus down to 27 when people realized "Oh shit. This is a punk band?! Really?"), or people that are there to see, be seen, and are too fucking cool to dance (Ratatat. The Faint. People physically restraining themselves from dancing.)
So naturally my lack of fashion sense + spastic fantastic "here for the music" ass doesn't feel like I fit in...much.
Dan Deacon at the Orange Show was an amazing exception. This bald sweaty man managed to rope a normally standoffish group of uneasy Houstonites into standing shoulder to shoulder with each other. This is the only concert I've been at in Houston (so far) where an entire crowd erupt into screaming arm flailing manic pentecostal dancing frenzy and no one seemed worried about ripping their neon checked scarves or looking like a fucktard. Total freedom. We all dropped our pretense long enough to forget Austin-envy and actually enjoy being part of a large throbbing crowd of glee. Epic glee.
Also building the flesh tunnel was awesome. Deacon told my best friend to shut the fuck up.
Okay. So. I've got a dark nasty part in my heart for Houston concerts. No one comes to see national touring acts that aren't at the top of Pitchfork's playlist (Lemuria, Los Campsinos!), people are unreceptive of artists that they didn't come to see (All the douchebaggery at Dinosaur Jr. where people were screaming DINOSAUR! DINOSAUR! during Built to Spill...), people are unreceptive of artists they did come to see (talking over Andrew Bird's narrative. or the nearly 300 hipster flashmob at Fucked Up! that made a grand exodus down to 27 when people realized "Oh shit. This is a punk band?! Really?"), or people that are there to see, be seen, and are too fucking cool to dance (Ratatat. The Faint. People physically restraining themselves from dancing.)
So naturally my lack of fashion sense + spastic fantastic "here for the music" ass doesn't feel like I fit in...much.
Dan Deacon at the Orange Show was an amazing exception. This bald sweaty man managed to rope a normally standoffish group of uneasy Houstonites into standing shoulder to shoulder with each other. This is the only concert I've been at in Houston (so far) where an entire crowd erupt into screaming arm flailing manic pentecostal dancing frenzy and no one seemed worried about ripping their neon checked scarves or looking like a fucktard. Total freedom. We all dropped our pretense long enough to forget Austin-envy and actually enjoy being part of a large throbbing crowd of glee. Epic glee.
Also building the flesh tunnel was awesome. Deacon told my best friend to shut the fuck up.