It has been a week since I got rocked. Harmony, beats, strums, broken-hearted voices, chipper banter wrapped into an enthralling confidence which is all too intriguing. I got sucked in. Convinced I got inspired. Broke open my paints, turned the volume up, and made a mess of myself. Im not a painter. Im not an artist. Im a post college graduate who hasn't taken well to a 9-5 and desperately wants to be creative. Whatever the hell that means.
By the end of the encore I was ready to hop into my 1982 Toyota van that looks like a mouse or a space ship (ive heard both comparisons) and take off. End up in a hole near Oklahoma or New Mexico. Blow in as the traveling free spirit. Mysterious, attractive, courageous, intelligent, charming. I have the world to offer and everyone wants it.
It hasn't rained that hard in awhile, and the walk back to the car was nothing but enjoyable. Despite every part of me being drenched. Last time I was in Berkeley it poured like that so my sister and I stripped down to our skimpy's for the ride home.
I found out my cousin was actually at the same show, closer seats than ours. Oh what taste she has. I wish I was that cool at the age of 16. Maybe that's what you get when you grow up 15 minutes from one of the hippest cities in the world. You can't help but be on the inside of every new sound and every new fashion. This rings true for people from Canada as well. Even people from the tiniest towns of Manitoba are ahead of the curve compared to the rest of the United States.
Case in point, the premature lesbian Canadian twins up on stage. Even if most of your songs remind me of break up, and I wish you would get a bit more inventive and experimental with those 6 guitars of yours. I still admire that you went for it.
So, thank you.