Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Rocked

Yesterday a very lucky friend won tickets on the radio for the Augustana/O.A.R. concert at the Ryman. Because he's awesome (or maybe because I am...wink, wink), he invited me to go with him.

All in all, the show was fantastic. Both bands are amazing live and put on great performances. But I came away from the evening with a few observations...

1) Three out of the five Augustana band members wore ridiculously skinny jeans and severely v-necked (women's?) shirts:

I'm sorry, this isn't a good look for ANY man, but especially not for an under-developed "rocker" who spent his formative years playing guitar in a dark basement.

Dude, please keep your bird chest to yourself and your groupies. Oh, and if your pants cause me to wonder if you have to tuck your junk behind you to zip them, you should probably go up a size. Just a suggestion.

2) With that being said, there really is something about a man rocking out on a musical instrument, standing in a pool of stage lights. Generally I gravitate towards the All-American kind of guy and am probably the last person to sleep with someone simply because they're famous...but when Jerry of O.A.R. played that sax with his rippling muscles... Whew.

3) I am old. Seriously OLD. I swear out of the 4,000 people there, my friend and I were one of maybe 25 adults who didn't need a fake ID to stand in the beer line.

The minute we walked into the place, I felt like I'd accidentally stumbled my way into a high school field trip. Little pubescent people ran through the auditorium, shouting to their friends about their summer vacation plans. You could almost smell the mixture of false self-importance and zit cream.

My old age truly hit home while standing in line for the bathroom and overhearing a peppy cheerleader type tell a slouchy rocker type, "I'm 15 and a HALF."

It took everything I had not to belly laugh. Mainly because I so clearly remember those long-ago days of enhancing your age in an effort to appear more mature. Like those extra six months make any real difference.

I suddenly realized that from here on out, I'll probably want to do just the opposite. Someday, I'll be one of those 56-year-old women who are "39 and holding" or other such bullshit. Never again will I pump up my age to impress a boy.

Although, the thought is actually quite funny. I think the next time someone asks my age, I'll smile sweetly and reply, "24 and three-quarters" just to see what happens.

3 Comments:

Blogger Scooby said...

I have noticed the low V-neck T-shirt trend. Kirsten Dunst's rocker man wears his with tight black jeans, or worse, leggings, which he tucks into COWBOY BOOTS. It's a travesty, I tell you.

I don't know which is worse, though: that, or guys in Polos and Croakies. Both scare the Bejeebus out of me.

1:30 PM  
Blogger Jennifer Thompson said...

I was at that show too - and seriously felt like the oldest person in the place. (And I'm only 26!) Not so much awesome: The girls behind us who felt that their conversation was more important than the show they paid $30 to see. I don't get that. Very awesome: The show. Especially the last half.

2:50 PM  
Blogger LL said...

What's sad is that I'm wearing the exact same grey t-shirt that the skinny dude is...and he looks better in it than me. ;-) Good post, Rach. Always entertaining! xoxo

1:15 PM  

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