Despite frequently attending concerts and a habit of writing monthly email novels, I’ve never combined the two passions into a written concert review. The time has come. However, I will warn that my “review” is not at all traditional and doesn’t have all that much to do with the band. Regardless, I think you’ll all wish you had been there for a finite amount of time to witness the performance I was lucky enough to live through. Ladies and gentlemen…..please give it up for…..
The Antlers | April 28th, 2010 | The Casbah, San Diego, CA
Last night I and a few others were treated to the swelling sounds of Brooklyn’s deerest, The Antlers. On their first trip to San Diego, they found themselves playing for a sold out crowd. What they could not have expected, nor could they have prepared for, was playing for their #1 fan.
Not only was He* their #1 fan, he was the ultimate #1 fan of anybody, anywhere, for all times, ever.
*For better or worse or no reason at all, I have decided to capitalize all references to the perpetrator (He, Him, His, etc). Perhaps I feel it’s appropriate because I’ve determined that to engage in the types of activities He did, AND also carry them to the extremes that He did, He must have some sort of God complex. Wikipedia definition, “The individual may believe he or she is above the rules of society and should be given special consideration or privileges.” Considering the chances of Him reading this commentary, I’m not concerned that I will be furthering the condition.
I’m not sure I know where to begin, but I will say this, I feel bad for being so annoyed because He never broke any rules, nor did He “get up in anyone’s space.” However, He was such an overwhelming distraction that I would have preferred He watched the show from the back…..of outer space.
In the hopes that I can paint a vivid picture of the evening, I will start with facts to create a visual.
The Assailant | A clean-cut white male, between the ages of 18 and 22 (even though the Casbah is 21+ we were skeptical that He was of age). Approximately 5’-11” tall, 155 lbs, thin build with a pierced left ear. Standard jeans + t-shirt combo, nothing flashy. Got it? If not, just picture a particularly irritating jerkoff from your past.
As soon as the band took the stage it was obvious that this guy’s decade was hinging on this night. Impressive considering The Antlers have only been around for 4 years. And as they launched into the first song, “Kettering,” He too launched into His own show. Really, “spectacle” is a more fitting term. The following is a list of activities that He partook in, sometimes engaging in more than one at a time.
Scream-Singing | Of the talents He might choose to list on a resume, I doubt singing would be one of them. More likely His objective statement would contain a completely unrelated and eerie confession such as, “Gawd I love The Antlers so f*cking much I just want to die and be reborn through Peter Silberman’s anus so he could be my mother and father.”
I could not see His face, as He was at the very front of the stage (duh) hoping to catch Peter’s spittle in his own mouth, but I could tell that He was singing every word. His chin pointed to the sky, waving back and forth, eyes closed, SINGING for His God.
Dancing? | The question mark exists for quality reasons. The few times His head did tip towards the floor, it was to focus on His dance. What I will now attempt to describe is not by any means a move He trademarked, but in the context of this night (and this world), it was His.
Instructions – Bend your knees slightly and bend over partially at the waist. Now shrug your shoulders, tuck your elbows close to your sides and bend your elbows, bringing your hands up by your ears. Position them as if you’re about to snap your fingers. Close your eyes and leave your mouth open ¼”. Finally, rotate your upper body from one side to the next, dipping your elbows in an alternating fashion and contorting your face to express extreme satisfaction. (Bonus Points to those of you who actually stood up from your computers to participate. Double Bonus Points if you are doing it at work.)
He did this ad nauseum, occasionally throwing in hand waves and rap-dance moves that He likely learned from watching “America’s Best Dance Crew.”
The relative silence (disturbia) was similar to the closing scene of Napoleon Dynamite, as the packed auditorium focuses disbelieving on a single being dancing with no inhibitions….except that in this case the dancing was far less original and there were ZERO applause when it ended, just a thick fog of bewilderment. Even worse, He was completely oblivious and care-free like an infant who has messily shit itself but continues smiling, unaware of that any wrongs have been committed.
Forgive a second analogy but witnessing the dance was like the episode of The OC when Marissa Cooper finds out that her ex-boyfriend, Luke, is sleeping with her mother, Julie Cooper… confusing and upsetting, and repulsive.
Air Drumming | With formal training equivalent of Rock Band, He slammed His head and hands to the beat, or as near as he could. Energized by the crescendos, the blood rushed to His extremities as He flailed wildly. He barely flinched for improper cymbal crashes and dove right back into heavy-handed air fills, undoubtedly praying for acknowledgement from His drumming “brother” on stage.
I’ve seen epileptic Southern preachers with less control.
As the band neared their final song it was clear that both the band and the crowd had enough of His shenanigans. A bouncer temporarily took Him aside, but He knew that the show was almost over, so it had little bearing on His actions. However after a final anticipatory outburst, keyboardist, Darby Cicci, snapped back with, “Keep your pants on.” Apparently he too was concerned that bodily fluids might come into play if the emotional fire was not doused.
Appropriately, the show concluded with “Wake,” seeing as how He totally killed it. Regardless of whether the band had already played every song from their album, I doubt an encore would have occurred, for fear of He might try something….something like leaping on stage, touching a band member and exploding. Though, had that been the case, the irony of replaying “Wake” for the #1 fan of all-time would not have been lost on me.
