This picture fails utterly to capture the awesomeness. Ah well.
The opening band (The Ponys) was pretty darn cool. The Metro was cool, the lack of locking doors on the bathroom stalls was not cool. But Sleater-Kinney was the coolest. This guy thought so:
I completely fell in love with Sleater-Kinney again (and specifically with seeing them live), especially after hearing them cover "Fortunate Son" and rock the shit out of it. Hearing their own stuff rocked like dirtbikes as well ("Fortunate Son" was an unexpected and delightful bonus).
I have to admit (and here is the part wherein I discover that I am an old lady): the between-bands downtime (and only then! The rest of the show ruled!) got a little tedious when I kept getting squished away from my friends, and the very tall dude behind me breathed directly down my neck, and I was beginning to lose feeling in my legs, when I thought, "Jeez, I'd so much rather be home knitting right now."
Someone get me a cane and whippersnappers to shake it at. I've hit senility.
1 comment:
At least the person behind you was just breathing on you. And not pouring beer down your leg or barfing on your back. Which has happened to me and my friends... and made me decide that being old and skipping all but the fave bands isn't all that bad!
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