shins

Cindy and I saw the Shins in back in January when Chicago was in the midst of some extremely cold weather -- it was to the point where when the temperature got into the high single digits, we considered it a break from the cold. (this was around the same time that Dirk was posting about taking naps on the beach in Miami)

Waiting in a long like when the air temperature is 20 degrees sucks. But waiting in a long line when the air temperature is -2, is a truly unique experience. When it’s 20 degrees, people are cold and uncomfortable, but they can go about their business. They can talk, laugh, etc. But when its -2, the only thing people can do is actively be cold. People can put themselves into different positions, cover up as much exposed skin as possible, shiver, curse about how cold it is, try to see how quickly the line is moving and talk about why it should be moving faster, and gawk at the people who decided to go without a jacket (which on this night were almost none.) Pretty much everyone in line that night was frantic.

In the midst of this bedlam, I came up with a technique to lessen the suffering: first accept that you are freezing, then, imagine the pain you’d feel if for some reason you were about to be thrown into the lake and then yanked out and put back in like. Cindy didn’t seem to buy into it, but as I sat there and thought about how bad it would feel to be thrown into the lake at that moment, it made me appreciate that I was dry. And for a very short period of time, I forgot about how cold I actually was. Give it a try sometime. It won’t take away the pain, but it’ll ease it. (for a couple of seconds)

When we got to the door we saw two white women in their 50’s walk in and try to bypass the line. I heard them say, “Our sons are in the Shins, we’re Shins moms.” The doorman wasn’t having any of it. How is he supposed to know that they weren’t just two 55 year old Shins fans trying to get in without a ticket? I respected him for the skepticism. (Although, I kind of thought these women were telling the truth.)

After seeing the fake Shins moms, we met the man who should have been the highest paid Congress theater employee of the night: the outside doorman. The outside doorman's job was to make sure the line remained single file, and tell people to have their tickets and ID’s ready when they got inside. But the hardest part of his job was to be outside the entire time he did it. This guy was probably 5’7, 250 lbs, and bundled up so heavily that he looked like a ball. We could have tipped him over on his side and rolled him down the street.

A couple of minutes later -- while getting both ass cheeks pinched by the pat-down guy -- I wondered if the theater payed he outside doorman extra by hiring a couple of gay pat-down guys and paying them less. Why not?

Actually -- for the theater to save money -- why not do that every night?

If I was a pat-down guy, and was given the choice, I’d certainly chose to pat down women over men. A lot of guys would probably do the job for a free ticket and a six pack. (or for free I guess)

We all know that men aren’t allowed to pat down women. But why not let gay men pat-down men? I can’t tell if the guy who rubs his hand over my pass while searching for weapons is straight or gay, so why not let a gay guy have his fun? Let the cost savings trickle down to my ticket price.

No harm, no foul.

The Congress theater has open seating, which has its advantages and disadvantages. One of the biggest disadvantages became evident while walking back to the car when Cindy said to me, “My calf muscles are sore.” (from standing on her toes, and jumping up to see.) This made me think that it would be pretty cool to assign viewing spots on the theater floor based on height. The theater could not only do this for the convenience of it for short people, but also for how cool it would be for the band to look out at and see the entire crowd standing in height order.

Even more serious than that however, is that I was standing by a group of people who felt it necessary to dance during the show. It’s not that I am bothered by the dancing of people who want to dance. (I actually like to see that, in some ways that's what the music is meant for.) What bothers me is that a lot of guys out there don’t want to dance, but feel compelled to dance because their friends are. (not to say that’s never been me) (not to say that I remember it ever being me, but it's very possible) There’s nothing more awkward than looking away from the stage for a second and accidentally seeing one of these guys dancing. (And early in the show, there were a lot of them)

It’s difficult to explain what they are doing. They’re kind of bobbing up and down, trying to stay on beat, relaxing all of the muscles in their neck so that their heads roll around a little, but their arms are still held fairly tightly against their bodies (or in their pockets.) It seemed like 75% of guys dancing at the Shins concert were doing this kind of dance.

It took a bit of restraint on my part not to go up to one particular guy in front of me, put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest, squeeze lightly, and say to him, “It’s ok, it’s ok, you don’t have to.” Smile, shake my head a little bit, nod a little bit, look into his eyes and say, “It’s ok, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do. Just relax and enjoy the music, my brother.”

The Shins did something I’ve never seen before. After they finished their set and left the stage, the fans started cheering for an encore. After a couple of minutes, the lead singer walked back out onto the stage and the crowd erupted. Then he turned on the microphone and said, “Hey guys, seriously, we’re done. Sorry. If you wanna hear more, we’ve got three albums. Thanks for coming out.”

Then he walked off the stage. The lights came on, and the confused crowd went home.

Just kidding. But in all seriousness,, The “rock concert encore” is an archaic concept. Rod Stewart’s encore was Maggie Mae. I went to a Duran Duran show six years ago, and after being called out for an encore, they decided to perform Rio and The Reflex. I went to a Prince show and his encore was Purple Rain. PURPLE FUCKING RAIN!! As if we convinced him to come out and play Purple Rain because he hadn’t planned on it.

Message to all musicians today: Stop patronizing your fans!

Don’t come out for an encore and do a flawless rendition of your biggest hit.

I’m not saying that the Shins did that, actually their encore performance of Pressed in a Book was one of the best parts of their show. I would just like to see an actual impromptu encore. A song where the band comes out and has no idea what they’re about to play. Maybe they ask the fans what they’d like to hear.

I’d like to see fans band together and get a band to perform a true encore.

After the show, Cindy wanted to get a Shins t-shirt, so I went to get it for her. The Shins charge $20 for t-shirts. When I saw Prince a few years ago, his t-shirts were $50. Fifty U.S. dollars for a t-shirt. I asked an older man and woman working the Morrissey t-shirt stand why some artists charge so much for their t-shirts. Their response: “Because they can.”

They told me they once worked a Streisand show where t-shirts were $60.

It really makes you appreciate the level of dedication a fan has to Price when you see him walking around sporting Musicology Tour t-shirt.

I approached the souvenir stand and noticed that the line was completely unorganized -- the exact opposite of the line the outside doorman had managed earlier. This was an unorganized mob of people crowded behind three long tables. I waited patiently behind a guy in the front, and as soon as he paid for his shirt and left, I took his spot in front of the table. The girl who took his money immediately saw me, and at that point I could have placed my order and got a shirt. However, I felt bad because the girls on both sides of me had been waiting longer than me, so I deferred, and let them buy their t-shirts. I waited patiently at the table until everyone who had been waiting before me bought their t-shirts, and an entirely new group of buyers surrounded me. Then I held out my $20 bill, and expected to be rewarded for my patience. However, the new customers all squeezed their way into the line, stole the cashier’s attention, took their shirts and left, without even giving me an afterthought.

Finally, after two full generations of customers had passed me up, I said to the person trying to push me out of my spot, “Maybe you shouldn't bother going after this spot because I’ve been here the longest and I can’t seem to get the cashier’s attention.”

The female cashier overheard that remark and walked over to me and said, in disgust, “You’re not the only person trying to get a shirt, other people have been waiting here longer than you. Why don’t you just wait your turn!”

Everyone was looking at me like I was the asshole.

It was funny because it was loud, and there were a bunch of people around, so I wasn’t in a position where I could reason with her. All I could do was laugh and say "I'm sorry."

A few minutes later, she came around and asked me what t-shirt I wanted. I pointed it out and told her my size. When she handed to me, I didn’t check the size. But as I was walking away, I decided to check just to make sure that she wasn’t still holding a grudge against me and purposefully gave me the wrong one. The wrong size could mean another 15 minutes in the crowd trying to exchange my shirt. Lucky for her, she gave me the right size, because if she hadn't,,, I would have gone back there and patiently waited for her attention and then politely explain to her that she had given me the wrong size.