I’m reviewing the Mike Doughty show tonight. I haven’t reviewed or submitted anything to KDHX for about a month now, which only contributed to my already significant guilt over not contributing anything to that workshop. I tend to write more when I’m unhappy. Or maybe not when I’m unhappy, but definitely when writing is the thing that makes me happiest. Fiction – the method of creating a whole world in miniature and communicating it in a way that garners the least possible criticism – used to make me deliriously happy. Then I was thrilled to be writing for KDHX. For the past month, the thing that’s made me happiest is this house. I suppose I get distracted by too much happiness, and while I do still love this house and I’m so glad to be able to grab another byline, I should probably stop being so goddamn lazy about inventing stuff to write. I’m trying to stay realistic, so I’m thinking at least two workshop pieces before I go to Seattle in December, mostly because I get to see two of the workshop members (hooray for hanging out with Courtney again, and she says I’m supposed to meet Crossley in person sometime during that week) during the trip and I don’t want to feel like a deadbeat.
But anyway, I’m doing the Mike Doughty show tonight. Christy’s going with me, even though she responded with “what’s a Mike Doughty?” when I texted her about it. Sometimes I forget about how unknown the artists on KDHX are compared to whatever gets played on mainstream radio. I sound almost unbearably hipster to myself at this point, but it’s true. I’ve reviewed a few of the most popular/well known artists played on KDHX and the reaction from most people I know is “Who?”. To me, Mike Doughty (and Bright Eyes, and The Pains of Being Pure At Heart) are super famous, but I guess if you’re the kind of person who knows what “Moves Like Jagger” sounds like (and I still don’t, having successfully fought back the urge to YouTube it just so I can understand the fucking references already), the music I listen to doesn’t really come across your line of perception. I’m not saying my tastes are better, but…well, I kind of am. Or if they’re not better, then they’re at least more supportive of the independent spirit that creates the most interesting, experimental, and ultimately amazing music. To my ears, anyway.
The “Who?” response can be a bit problematic in cases of last minute confirmations, though. If a venue doesn’t confirm me until a day before the show, odds are that I won’t have a plus one already, and will then post something on Facebook to see if anyone wants to go. It only kind of occurs to me that a lot of the people reading my post won’t know who I’m talking about, and that everyone else won’t see the post anyway because I still don’t understand how the new Facebook layout works. Then I get to look like that loser who’s constantly posting “anybody wanna hang out with meh?” statuses, only to have no one respond. One person responded to my Mike Doughty Facebook post. One. It was Dave.
Obviously, I get very little help from some parts of the Internet, as well as some parts of my circle of friends.
Except Christy, of course, who’s taking a chance and seeing a show that I promised her would be good, and she doesn’t even drink beer so how else am I supposed to bribe her?
Since I’m rarely in a car and reading* when I’m home, I only listen to music when I’m running. So while I support the whatever-you-just-hipstered, my tastes have evolved to booty-popping jams strictly to keep my feet moving at the Y. “Moves Like Jagger” is horrifying, though; please never ever look it up. Independent spirits do nothing for my heart rate. Also, why don’t you hipster some more hipster, hipster. (I love you.) (I’m drunk.)
*Or, uh, watching Revenge and Fringe and Parks and Rec.
You should know that you are forever absolved due to your use of the phrase “booty-popping jams,” or, as I prefer to spell it, “booty-popping jamz.”
Hello, Soul Coughing? Weren’t these people ALIVE during the 90s? Love that guy… “27 Jennifers” is a permanent resident on my iPod.
We saw M. Doughty solo at Blueberry Hill. He stopped mid-song to yell at a guy who was talking to the bartender the whole time. “Shut the fuck up! Why did you pay money to sit down here and yell over the music, when you could have sat upstairs and talked for free? Just shut the fuck up, okay?” And then began to enrapture the audience, again. His music is pretty fucking awesome, too, even though I like Soul Coughing, more. Have fun!