while doing my standard scanning of newsgroups tonight, i spotted the new Radiohead album. hmmm, okay, i'll download it, but untill they start rocking like Creep or Paranoid Android, i don't give a fuck about them. scrolling down i see
...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead - The Secret of Elena's Tomb EP
here's kinda what the thought process went like. some of it was said outloud:
holy fuck! i don't have to wait till Tuesday! holy fuck! the motherfucking trail of dead! holy fuck! download download! what? downloading radiowho? ABORT! ABORT! start trail of dead download NOW! aaaaah downloading without obstruction. hmm track 1 is done, should i start listening to it right now? but what if i start playing it and track 2 isn't finished yet? all continuity will be lost! *falls to knees* i'll have ruined it all! oh no! what do i do?
here, i think i blacked out for about 2 minutes. when i regained unconsciousness i saw that the album had finished downloading. ah, sweet sweet trail of dead. eases the pain. i think i'm happy.
last friday i went to see Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. i went by myself since i don't know anyone who else who likes them.
i am the coolest person i know.
i got off work at 6. the ticket said doors open at 8:30, so i had a few hours to kill. i had Molly with me. i went out and took a few twilight shots, but it soon got too dark.
the concert was at Pat's Pub, which is in the core of the Downtown East Side (aka hell). its actually not so bad, its not like you step one foot there and get stabbed in the face right away. that doesn't happen untill at least the fourth or fifth step! the trick is to look straight ahead and look pissed off. no one will bother you.
i got there at 8:20 since i had run out of things to do downtown. there was no one at the door. no lineup. no one to check the ticket. i was way too early. so i walked right in, got a beer and sat down alone at a table for 2. for the next hour, i sat there, slowly sipping my beer, watching boxing on the 21" TV at a bad angle. it was the first time i've been bored out of my mind in a long time.
watching boxing grew tiresome quite quickly, so i started playing Hipster or Homeless - a game i invented in which i try to determine if the next bar patron who walks in is either a Hipster here for the show, or a drunken homeless guy. you'd think this would be easy, but its not! they both wear trucker hats and ugly loafers. one because they think its cool, the other cause they found it in the dumpster out back.
there were a few indie hipster kids sitting in the back, but the place was mostly full of drunken Downtown East Side type people. an older drunken chinese guy walked by me every five minutes to drop a buck into the BC Lottery scratch vending machine. i'd watch him as he'd limp back past me, sit at his seat at the bar, scratch his ticket, mumble some swear words, take a sip of his beer, and get up and repeat the routine. i figured he was a gambling addict and wondered how he got to this point of his life.
at the table behind me, i heard another guy say "hey Jed, how was that spliff i gave ya?". Jed replies "magic. pure fucking magic" to which the first guy says "yeah? i'm thinking about going into business with that. no fucking cops to bust us at the rez!" to you non-canadians, the "rez" is short for an indian reservation.
the ticket said doors at 8:30, show at 9:00. its 9:15 and still nothing. whats worse was i had to take a piss. but i couldn't just get up and go, i might lose my primo table. i saw that one of the members of the opening band had a flock of seagulls haircut, so i knew it'd be some new-wave-post-punk crap, so i planned on sitting through it. and i couldn't just leave my jacket or camera there and go, cause thats just stupid. oh the disadvantages of going to a show alone.
i wondered where the old chinese guy went? at least he was entertaining.
now i was really bored.
i checked my cell. no one calls me. i never really call anyone. i wonder why i have this thing?
i put the phone away and look up to see the old chinese guy limping towards me with a pitcher of beer. he points at the chair and says something. i motion at the chair like i'm one of Bob Barker's bimbos, "no, take a seat". he sits down, extends his hand and says his name. i shake his hand hard (cause you can't have a wimpy handshake in the Downtown East Side) and repeat the name i heard because i couldn't hear it the first time.
"Mitchell?" he shook his head and said it again.
"Mojo?" to which he nods and lets go of my hand.
I didn't think his name was Mojo, but who really cares. besides, Mojo is a cooler name than anything else that sounds like Mitchell or ryhmes with Mojo.
"my name is Pinder."
"huh?"
"Pinder."
"huh?"
"Peter."
he smiles, but furrows his brow as to say " i didn't think your name is Peter, but who really cares". he grabs the pitcher of beer he brought and offers to fill my mostly empty glass. i politely decline, but i think i heard something like "you're drinking with me" through the thick chinese accent and drunken slur. well then, how can i refuse? he fills my glass and his own and we toast. he takes a sip, puts his glass down and says bluntly "i'm not stupid. these people think i'm stupid. i never went to school, but that doesn't mean i'm stupid. they're stupid."
i smile and tell him my philosopy of believing everyone is stupid until they can prove you wrong. "the burden of proof is on them." i think i lost him somewhere at "burden", so i repeat simply "everyone is stupid". he laughs and raises his glass for another toast.
i take this oppurtunity to go to the washroom. now i can go and won't lose my table! thanks Mojo!
when i come back, Mojo tells me he's been in Canada since 1979. he came here with nothing and built his life up from that nothing. even if he does have a gambling addiction, i always respect immigrants who can do that. he guesses correctly that i was born in Canada. i tell him my dad's been here since 1964. he nods in respect and raises his glass, another toast is in order!
during the silent moments when we both had nothing to say, he'd grab his glass and extend it for another toast. i think we did that about 15 times.
at 10:00, the opening band started setting up. the hipsters began to gather around the floor. the floor is tiny, about 10 x 10 ft. the stage is 1ft off the floor, which means the crowd of hipsters almost completely obscures our view of the band.
they start playing, and i was right. new-wave crap. i wouldn't mind seeing the drummer play, cause thats always fun to watch. but then i'd probably get tired of standing when Ted Leo/Pharmacists go on. so nah, i didn't care if i can't see this band.
Mojo is dismayed. i can't hear what he's saying now cause the new-wave keyboards are drowning him out. i can hear him swearing though. he's pointing at the hipsters and motioning them to move out the way so he can see. he looks at me and i just shrug. he wobbily stands up on his chair, but sits back down. i think he realizes hes too drunk for that. he swears some more and starts pantomiming typing on a keyboard on the table. i thought he was making fun of me, but then he points at the hipsters, cocks a fake shotgun and begins gunning each hipster down with it. i take this to mean "fucking computer geeks! i'll kill you all for getting in my way!" luckily i never told him what i do for a living.
after a few songs, and after one last toast, Mojo shakes my hand and leaves. just like that. i'm a little sad, cause now i have to sit through this shitty new-wave band alone. at least Mojo made it fun! he was cool.
***
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists finally get on stage at 11:00 and i stood about 3 feet away from the stage. the show was awesome. the new album is really good. i already have about half of it memorized. i took a whole bunch of photos that i still have to scan, since they're film and all. i planned on taking photos in S-mode, but the lighting was too shitty, so i put in P-mode and popped up the flash. i usually hate people who use flash photography at concerts, but i had no choice this time. its expensive getting a whole role of shitty blurry photos developed.
after the show, i went up to Ted and apologized for all the flash photography. he said he didn't even notice. i told him the show was great and how much i love the new album and how i'm glad he's on Lookout! since its always been my "home" punk label since the days of Green Day, The Queers and of course Operation Ivy. he seemed to genuinely appreciate my comments and thanked me. i'm such a fanboy. i noticed the setlist on the ground and picked it up and asked him if i could have it. he said "oh yeah, go ahead man". i thanked him again and left.
i went outside, put on my pissed-off-determined-to-get-somewhere Downtown Eastside face and walked to my car. then i sang Under the Hedge as i drove home.
