Posted by: loripalooza | November 23, 2009

Once in a Blue Moon

Joe and I joined some friends for a show Saturday at the iconic Seattle tavern, the Blue Moon.  Sometimes, of course, iconic is a nice way of saying they just can’t seem to let it go…  We got there around 9:30 and upon stepping inside the door we were immediately assaulted, choking and gagging, hair follicles retracting in fear, by the overpowering smell of bleach.  A huge wet area blocked our way towards the stage, and we were soon informed this was the result of bleach being doused onto the floor where one of the more overzealous, apparently ramen-eating,  patrons puked right before we arrived.  We have the distinct look about us as we walk our wrinkly noses over to the ATM for cash because the bar doesn’t do debit cards, that we’re only here to see the band, okay?  With some trepidation we made our way tippy-toeing  to our friends who are in one of the three bands playing, The Eloquent LiarsOur friend John, who plays bass in our little get-together-for-fun band,  also plays with these guys, though he’s not pictured here, possibly for Sesame Street logic “One of these things is not like the other, one of these things doesn’t belong…”  John jokes that he’s nine years younger than the total of these three 21-year-olds combined. Then again, maybe it’s just an old picture before John was playing with them.

The opening band was great, Starving Art Family, a good alternative sound from Austin, complete with banjo and trumpet.  The Eloquent Liars were fantastic, (I know I’m a bit biased, but really they were; energetic, talented with an edge, a likeable indie-alt band doing all originals, but one) especially considering Blake there in the middle, was in a car accident just two weeks ago, just had a catheter removed the day before and has a couple of broken ribs right now, and for their only cover at the end, a very loud, passionate song by the Vines, (of course, I forget the name), he sang full-on, falling-to-your-knees kind of not holding back, then jumped off the stage immediately afterward to sit with his mom, who was soon to be hocking their debut CD, bless her heart. The last band we (our group in the late 40’s, every one of us figuring it had been at least 25 years since we were last at the Blue Moon)  decided should have been the opener–long hair covering their faces only to let us occasionally catch a glimpse of their very pale fragile sexy-cheekboned beauty underneath–a guitar army with skinny jeans and too much aloof attitude for my taste.  Though I’ll take the skinny jeans any day.  I was silently wishing I too could be 21 again, and okay, maybe a boy, or a rebellious girl, with skinny purple jeans belted 5 inches below my belly button on my suggestion of hips, playing an electric guitar with purpose, singing with angst.  At my age though I’m happy to still get away with wearing my Converse All Stars and be carded at the door.

On our way out, (Joe helping with the equipment after John tells us when he was younger he dreamed of having groupies, and now he dreams of having roadies) leaving our empty pint glasses on the crude patron-gouged tables, bumping our wide hips past more skinny jeans across the damp floor, craning our necks to check out the posters on the ceiling that look to have been there decades–back when smoking was still allowed, buttoning our coats before facing the rain, rain, when-will-it-ever-stop, rain, the broody leader of the guitar army band swivels around slowly on his bar stool, black duster billowing behind, locks eyes with me and I get chills.  In a blush I reassess my former opinion, and pardoning this one’s aloofness, I newly bestow him with intense sexy vampire-like qualities, and revise my wish to be 21 again as definitely a girl.   (Of course, the whole vampire-vibe could have been because earlier when I was forced to go to the mall and was attracted to a delicious green party dress in this shop only to be breathlessly told by the wide-eyed girl working there that it was the same dress a character from the new Twilight movie wears, thus dashing my hopes of purchase, because who wants to be a 48-year-old wearing a dress that everyone knows is some teenager’s from the trendy vampire movie?)


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