(I shall be excused, for the words to recall this experience have come to my mind exclusively in English from the very beginning; may the reader understand my lack of capabilities.)
After rushing from a rushy meeting which meant a publishing deal, I arrived to the venue, caring not for the hunger, the heat or the distance walked in a rough (almost rogue) neighborhood. Not particularly surprised by the attendees, I rather went for a beer and deal acrimoniously with the waiters and their wages. A full forty minutes late, múm went out to the stage, kinda nervous due to the roaring crowd.
And dare I say I cannot recall a concert where the audience would yell and clap so loudly for such a regular performance. Sing along to songs you don't know, múm's newest record, has been harshly criticized (if not downright deplored) by specialized magazines: indeed, it is far from being their best, as the band moved away from their glitchy, edgy and very distinctive sound to a (and I quote a friend) psychotically joyful pop. It is so very hard to relate their very intimate 7+ minute soundscapes to these dull and oh, so painfully naive glossolalia and consequently recognize an evolving career.
On the other hand, múm has become undeniably fun and the band glimmers on stage, the girls singing (or trying) in such high-pitched tones that it was like an ill children choir; also, the girls' highly dramatic gestures, shaking their hands in the air and looking seriously into the dim lights aided to that atmosphere. Still, I could not stop thinking that it was fun ripped from emotion. If they were intending to go back to a child-like state of merry and delight, they managed to do it quite fine, even if it meant parting ways from the maturity they seemed to have reached. I wonder if Kría Brekkan's departure take with her such compelling sound.
But then it is compulsory to look around and take a time to talk about the audience. Most of them could be described as obnoxious, self-centered, egotistical, shallow, trendy hipsters, which somehow gets myself into such a description. Forsooth I tell thee: soap and clean garments and hair are actually very cool, by far more than the biological hazards those kids fashion. *shiver*
So, I am there, trying my best to actually enjoy the concert and have a good time; and I was making my way just fine when a couple of redneck pricks arrived just behind me, screaming nonsense and annoying every one around. Zen, and I pay no attention to them, until this bloody springbreaker starts dancing as if he had some kind of stroke, pushing and losing his balance now and then; so, wisely I stretch the elbows, just in case he is way to close to me. And then, paradise: this asshole jumps and shakes his glass of beer in my shoulder and spilled half of it all over me. I guess the guy beside me thought I was just about to smash him to the floor, for he was the first to hold my shoulder and calm me down, having no responsibility on the matter. "Fellow, PLEASE! Is it so difficult to be careful?" and the bloody redneck is apologizing stupidly as I shove the beer off my face. Next thing I know, he starts jumping and pushing once again, so I rather flee before actually smashing him down…
Excuse my swearing, but that guy really gave me a hard time.
If I have to keep a fond memory out of the concert, it would be the encore: as the band came back to the stage, evidently overwhelmed by the roaring crowd, one of them got close to a microphone with a little jar in his hand: "Thank you very, very, very, very [8x] much for being so amazing tonight. We have a gift for you. These are ashes from the volcano and they are for you" and started scattering small pinches towards the people. That was nice.
After rushing from a rushy meeting which meant a publishing deal, I arrived to the venue, caring not for the hunger, the heat or the distance walked in a rough (almost rogue) neighborhood. Not particularly surprised by the attendees, I rather went for a beer and deal acrimoniously with the waiters and their wages. A full forty minutes late, múm went out to the stage, kinda nervous due to the roaring crowd.
And dare I say I cannot recall a concert where the audience would yell and clap so loudly for such a regular performance. Sing along to songs you don't know, múm's newest record, has been harshly criticized (if not downright deplored) by specialized magazines: indeed, it is far from being their best, as the band moved away from their glitchy, edgy and very distinctive sound to a (and I quote a friend) psychotically joyful pop. It is so very hard to relate their very intimate 7+ minute soundscapes to these dull and oh, so painfully naive glossolalia and consequently recognize an evolving career.
On the other hand, múm has become undeniably fun and the band glimmers on stage, the girls singing (or trying) in such high-pitched tones that it was like an ill children choir; also, the girls' highly dramatic gestures, shaking their hands in the air and looking seriously into the dim lights aided to that atmosphere. Still, I could not stop thinking that it was fun ripped from emotion. If they were intending to go back to a child-like state of merry and delight, they managed to do it quite fine, even if it meant parting ways from the maturity they seemed to have reached. I wonder if Kría Brekkan's departure take with her such compelling sound.
But then it is compulsory to look around and take a time to talk about the audience. Most of them could be described as obnoxious, self-centered, egotistical, shallow, trendy hipsters, which somehow gets myself into such a description. Forsooth I tell thee: soap and clean garments and hair are actually very cool, by far more than the biological hazards those kids fashion. *shiver*
So, I am there, trying my best to actually enjoy the concert and have a good time; and I was making my way just fine when a couple of redneck pricks arrived just behind me, screaming nonsense and annoying every one around. Zen, and I pay no attention to them, until this bloody springbreaker starts dancing as if he had some kind of stroke, pushing and losing his balance now and then; so, wisely I stretch the elbows, just in case he is way to close to me. And then, paradise: this asshole jumps and shakes his glass of beer in my shoulder and spilled half of it all over me. I guess the guy beside me thought I was just about to smash him to the floor, for he was the first to hold my shoulder and calm me down, having no responsibility on the matter. "Fellow, PLEASE! Is it so difficult to be careful?" and the bloody redneck is apologizing stupidly as I shove the beer off my face. Next thing I know, he starts jumping and pushing once again, so I rather flee before actually smashing him down…
Excuse my swearing, but that guy really gave me a hard time.
If I have to keep a fond memory out of the concert, it would be the encore: as the band came back to the stage, evidently overwhelmed by the roaring crowd, one of them got close to a microphone with a little jar in his hand: "Thank you very, very, very, very [8x] much for being so amazing tonight. We have a gift for you. These are ashes from the volcano and they are for you" and started scattering small pinches towards the people. That was nice.
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario