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Crashing

We were invited to a private party last night featuring a super-secret musical act. Well, we knew going in who the musical act was, but I don't necessarily want their fans to be googling this here. Let's call them Second Nose Deaf. We weren't technically on the guest list, but a friend of ours extended his invitation to us. So when we walked into this fairly fancy party in the lobby of a nice building in the Financial District, knowing that we probably knew zero people, maybe one other person in attendance, we definitely felt like crashers. Especially since there was catered food, a generously stocked open bar, and a woman with shot-glass ammo belts serving slugs of Patron.

We are not huge fans of this band, even though what I consider to be their one hit has been in heavy rotation on my ipod since I heard it on an Ironman finish line broadcast (geek). But I know that they have, or at least ten years ago had, a pretty big following. And the other folks at the party seemed to be rocking out pretty hard. In an unusual situation, the average age of the crowd was about ten years older than us. It was just a little surreal. We're used to rolling our eyes at the 22-year-old hipsters at shows we go to, and this show was a bunch of slightly older folks in department-store sportswear who clearly knew how to party way better than we do.

Music snob that I am, I admit I was at best mildly bemused at the experience. I mean, this is (was) a pretty big band that probably is used to playing larger venues. They had 13 guitars on stage, huge lighting rigs, smoke machines, the full deal. And yet there were maybe 100 or 150 people in the audience. But they did put on a great show. And I know that there are fans out there who would have killed to see it.

When I was fifteen or so, I remember learning that Jane's Addiction had played an impromptu show in an old warehouse just blocks from my home. I was devastated that I had missed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see one of my favorite bands in a venue they would surely never play again. Some kid will probably hear about this show from the chatter on the band's myspace page and be heartbroken that he missed this opportunity. Hey, kid: these crappy cell-phone photos are for you.

October 14, 2007 7:23 PM