hey! it's the sun

On Valentine's Day, instead of staying home to finish writing my American studies term paper like a good little honors student, I took the train down to South Street with my friend M. to rock out to the choral symphonic pop aural euphoria that is the Polyphonic Spree.

Because M. is way anal compulsive about being on time, we reached the TLA a good hour before the concert was set to start. So, being cold, wet, and bedraggled from walking 12 blocks in the rain, we grudgingly succumbed to the lure of the pseudo-bohemian corporate coffee house found on every corner of every city in the country: Starbucks.

I and my hot chocolate and M. and her super grande mocha latte cappuccino espresso [or something like that— can you tell I'm not a coffee drinker?] then ascended the stairs in the back to grab a prime spot by the window in the second floor seating area for spying on urban pedestrians in the rain.

So we sat there, whiling away the time, nursing our drinks, talking, gossiping, reading the quotes and disclaimers on our coffee cups, &c.

Eventually we decided enough time had passed and we could go to the TLA now. M. first had to make a stop in the loo, so I went downstairs to wait for her. Sitting at a table across from the cashier, I noticed two handsome young men whom I had seen from the second-floor window and idly wondered whether they were attending the concert that e'ening.

They, along with a man with a shaved head and a shortish woman with shortish hair, were purchasing coffee. I chanced to overhear the shaved-head man say to one of the other young men, "Your short hair still freaks me out. In a good way," and, noticing a little streak of red hair on the back of the guy's head, I wondered if he hadn't perhaps recently had dreads.

M. emerged from the lavatory and we walked across the street to the concert. I considered buying a t-shirt on the way in, but one doesn't really get that overpowering need to buy merch until after the concert, when there are a billion other people in line and all the smaller sizes have already sold out.

It was pretty empty when we walked in, so we got good spots near the front, after M. deposited her umbrella [which she never went back to get] on the floor next to one wall.

The opening band was Pilotdrift, a name which reminds me of Driveshaft. They weren't bad. Endearing, in a head-bobbing sort of way. Cute Texas accents. M. said they were too similar to Radiohead for her, but I liked this creative bit at the end where they all played drumsticks on random surfaces. It touched a special place in my heart.

Next was Mike Doughty, who had quite a fanbase in the crowd, and was very willing to have conversations with the audience and improvise. People would request songs, and he'd say, "maybe later" or politely: "not tonight, but thanks for asking." He played a lot of good songs. There was this one fanboy to the left of M. and I, mouthing the words along to all the songs. Cute. Of course, on the other side there was a Spree fan who was not at all impressed with the musical stylings of Mike Doughty & guitar and who intermittently shouted things like, "No more songs!" Oh, well.

And then it was the Polyphonic Spree! This kid once said the Trocadero is the church of atheists, and while we were at the TLA & not the Troc, it was probably the nearest-religious experience I've ever had at a concert, what with the robes and the arms raised in the air and the all-around positive vibes that I don't really associate with church, except maybe black people's church. Unless there isn't really a lot of clapping and testifying and singing in real black people's churches. I can't say I have much experience/knowledge in the matter.

Anyway, it was good times. Everyone on the stage is just so excited and joyous that you just can't help but to get caught up in it and bounce and sing along and throw your arms in the air with them. There was confetti and coloured lights [okay, yes, there are coloured lights at just about every concert evar, but they are more fun when all the band members are wearing brightly coloured robes] and tambourines and the music is just so much more fun live.

I loved that you could see the people on stage getting sweaty and I loved that the drummer [who reminded me a little of David Arquette] jumped into the audience, crashing cymbals. I was also really glad they played "Soldier Girl," 'cause that's one of my favourite songs.

There was this one guy standing in front of us who looked like Eugene Levy and I could not figure out why he was there because I don't think he danced at all. I thought maybe he was a critic, but M. said she did see him get into it a little bit, so maybe he was just a v. stoic fan.

For the encore, they reentered the stage by threading their way in a long line through the audience, and I was about a foot away from the line, a perfect vantage point for noticing that one of the guys in robes had a streak of red in his hair. And then I was like OMG I SAW THE POLYPHONIC SPREE IN STARBUCKS. Except not all of them, just the flautist and three guys. But still!

They ended with a cover of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," which was pretty much the best thing evar. And then Tim DeLaughter had us say with him "Together . . . we're heavy" and released us into the night.