That shirt is stupid... and other things I think about at shows.

I like to pretend I'm not judgmental, but let's be real, I am. Especially when it comes to going out to see a show at a place where I know my alerts will be on high. On Tuesday I trekked over to Black Cat to see Frightened Rabbit, expecting a great show and a decent, but hopefully not young crowd. That is often the case for popular indie bands such as these guys. Though, luckily, because I'm a sucker for cute boys in bands, no matter what's going on in the crowd, I can usually  ignore the flames of my misanthropy. Though not a one of the Scots in this band is especially attractive, I couldn't help but feel a smug flare up. Well, not for all of them, just the Bass player. I don't know how I didn't notice for more than over half the length of the show, but suddenly I looked up, and thought, "wow, that shirt is stupid". I laughed out loud into my beer and sent a text to myself to remember to write this down.

It's probably something he purchased at Urban Outfitters or some European equivalent, and maybe I'm just getting old, but this shirt was literally just stupid. It was a long, white number with the collar cut off just-so. The graphic was some loud collection of what I think were lips - and I'm not talking Rolling Stones lips, or Rocky Horror, for that matter - and some kind of busy scene of stripes and streaks in various shades of red and purple. I wouldn't call his look punk, because I've known some punks in my day... but more like trapped somewhere between punk and well, like I said, just stupid. Poor guy. At least they played really well, and seemed to be having a great time.

Not unlike the guy in front of me who just couldn't help but throw his arm high over our heads and fist-pump like a mad dog. Thank the gods he didn't initiate a clap-a-long at any point, I can't fucking stand those and I probably would have fist-pumped him right in the face. He was just drunk and having a good time, which made me smile, and take a step back from my group-hatred.

That coupled with the fact that a row or two up from him was this insanely tall man trying to fit slyly into the crowd. He wasn't standing in front of me, so I didn't really mind his presence, but in the glowing warmth of my sudden crowd-happiness (I'm pretty sure the band and the cold beer had more to do with it that anything, and I don't think I had noticed the stupid shirt yet), I found myself feeling sorry for the guy. I thought almost aloud, "Man, it must be really hard to go to a show and try to get up close when you're that tall ". I might have even made a momentary sad face. I can't imagine wanting to be close to the band and feeling like a dick for trying to get up there just because I was born like a tree. I'm not exactly small myself, but I sure can make my way in a crowd and get up close if necessary.

And as much as I claim to dislike people (or expect to at any rate), part of what I enjoy the most at a show like this is eying the mob. I've had a great time just surveying the scene, even picked up a date at a show (well, I think he picked me up, but whatever), and I actually like going stag. It's far less pressure to make sure everyone is having a good time, and when you do just want to spend a little time in a sanctimonious state of mind, there's no one to sit back and judge you too.