squeekybelly (squeekybelly) wrote,
squeekybelly
squeekybelly

Getting old...

Saw the Weakerthans yesterday. Good show (I'll come back to that in a sec), but the weirdest thing is that while I was enjoying the music the whole night, two thoughts kept on competing for my attention: my knees were killing me and the crowd was older than I thought it would be.

Ok, first things first: two shows in two nights, and standing for most of them. Man I'm getting old! next thing I know, I'll be needing a cane or something!

The other thing that struck me was the crowd. Now, I've been to two other Weakerthans shows before and the average age must have been around 20-21, max. Much singing along at the previous shows, with the crowd lapping the whole thing while singing to each and every song. This time, the average age must have been around 30-35... less singing along, more talking over the music about kids, cars and insurance.

Still, John Samson has an amazing hold over the crowd. With a boyish smile and an easy way, he mesmerized everyone. The rest of the band was really good as well, but the focus was John all the way. Funny to hear people in the crowd yelling about the Jets, but hell, when you're from Winnipeg...

The other band on the bill (that I saw... there was another one as well, but we missed that) was a band called Trailer. Woa... 70s rock has to stop. It's gone too far. These guys were good, but boring. Sounded a bit like an americain version of Fleetwood Mac. Got weirded out when, paying attention to what the singer was singing, I noticed that the last song was all about having been SAVED BY JESUS... urg. That's all we need, a 70s christian rock band...

On the other hand, tomorrow is MISSION OF BURMA. Now I can die knowing that I'll have finally seen them live.

ok kids, it's time for some non-rhyming grouping of words...

Forward
If words lost all meanings
    becoming once again
but a series of sounds
    rather like the scratches of a pen
would you still understand me
when I'd try
to tell you how I feel?

Would my gestures
    become futile,
useless flapping in the wind
    of a tongue and lips?

Or could you still tell
    by simply looking in my eyes
how I felt that night
    you told me to go away?
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