Showing posts with label concert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label concert. Show all posts

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Dead Man's Bones: Proof

See? I told you. A ghost sang "Like a Virgin."

And then Ryan Gosling sang that his body is a zombie for me. Z-O-M-B-I-E.

From Tuesday's show:



It's an acquired taste. Mostly brilliant. And slightly strange.



Don't diss Gosling's crooning. The man can do pop if he so chooses. But he turned down a spot in *NSYNC for an acting career. Wisest choice ever.

See more from the show over at NadineBells.com. Yes, folks. I'm moving onwards and upwards. Start updating your feeds/readers/bookmarks.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

It Happened Tonight: Dead Man's Bones


Yes, those are X's on my hands. Apparently the lady in line thought I said I was under 19. I ACTUALLY said that I probably wouldn't be drinking tonight. She grabbed her permanent marker and made the decision for me.

Straight edge for life, yo.

(Do kids say "yo" anymore? Did I just prove that I'm old by saying "kids"?)

It's flattering, having someone assume I'm 18. Because recently someone else asked me if I'd ever been married. Meaning I look like a divorcee?! Sigh.

You should also note that I brought out the plaid shirt. Just for Mr. Gosling. In return, he wore a three-piece suit. Have you ever heard girls scream because someone took off his suit jacket? I have.

I was wedged at the front between two strangers. On my left, the girl texted her friend: "This show is f@#$ed." On my right, the girl whispered, "Could there be a more beautiful man?" It was appropriate that I stood in the middle. Because I didn't find it insane, nor did I have any intentions of drooling. Although these particular well-suited musicians were quite attractive. Not gonna lie.

I'll post pictures soon. The show was sort of like Nuit Blanche packed into two hours on a single stage. A ghost sang "Like a Virgin." A guy bent a spoon with his mind. A woman jump-roped with a poodle. And a choir of child-sized ghosts sang backup.

And it sort of all made sense. Even when they shot a little girl, who then resurrected in silhouette, singing Nancy Sinatra's "Bang Bang" while Gosling whispered the lyrics in her ear.

Maybe you had to be there.

Sometimes it's inspiring to experience something so completely new and unusual. Something you can't box in or define. It was a collaborative, interactive, slightly rough-around-the-edges performance, with no room for big stars and egos. If the women didn't squeal, you'd have no idea that Gosling was an anybody.

P.S. His band mate is actually prettier than he is. But less accomplished musically. And less interesting. I can't explain it, but I'm not very intrigued by walking Ken dolls.

YouTube Tuesday: Gosling Tonight

I'm in a rush. I can't be late for my date with Ryan.

I know I've posted this before, but I can't help myself. So endearing. So charming. So hilarious.

This is my evening, folks. Sixteen years later.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

YouTube Tuesday: Next Tuesday

Is it weird that I needed a YouTube video to tell me that the venue of next week's concert is different than the one printed on my ticket?

Thank you, Ryan, for keeping me posted on the location change. I'm not in the mood for a tragedy. And I doubt you are either. It's about time we hang out in the same building, no?

Friday, September 18, 2009

It Happened Last Night: U2

When the stage starts smoking, you know something awesome is about to happen. And it did.

I highly recommend spending a Thursday evening with 60,000 strangers. Preferably ones who freak out with united enthusiasm for "Mysterious Ways." (Oh, and make sure that you spend that same incredible evening with your dad.)

Seeing U2 play live has been on the bucket list since the list's first day of existence. And now I can die happy. As if Bono knew the importance of such an event, he sang my dream set list.

The acoustic rendition of "Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of" was breathtaking. I'm still intimidated by last night's flawlessness. It was seamless, passionate and straight-up rock 'n' roll. Both spectacular and intimate.

An open roof. A packed Rogers Centre. One thunderous voice singing "Amazing Grace." A cappella. Followed by "Where the Streets Have No Name." Chills.

P.S. The Edge wore plaid. Sigh.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Tomorrow's Haircut

The Sienna Miller look. No hairbrush required.

Earlier this week, a phone conversation with my mom:

ME: I'm getting my hair cut on Friday. To look good for Bono.
MOM: I'm pretty sure he won't see you way up there.
ME: Sigh. I know.
MOM: He's a married man. He shouldn't be noticing.
ME: You're right. I should wear a ponytail so I don't distract him.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Fake Boyfriend, Real Concert

Ryan Gosling and I have been a fake item for quite some time. Probably since the days of Breaker High. He and Christian Bale were the under-the-radar actors I swooned over while everyone else pined for DiCaprio and Pitt.

Bale got married and became Batman.
Gosling stayed single and started a band.

And now Gosling's band, Dead Man's Bones, is going on tour. And when they come to Toronto in October, children's choir in tow, I will probably be there. Not to faint or squeal or send telepathic love notes, but to support a local boy with an original sound.

It's hard to explain to some people that I wouldn't actually date Gosling. Ever. I know enough to say no. I'd hate to have to break his heart.

So I'll watch The Notebook and cry. I'll recommend Lars and the Real Girl to everyone I meet. I'll support his music. But I won't go home with him. Sorry, folks. This is one anticlimactic fake love story.

P.S. Listen to the single "My Body's a Zombie For You." Kind of amazing.

P.P.S. Let me know if you want to go. While I'm usually cool with going places solo, I feel as though I need to assert my non-romantic interest in Gosling by bringing a date.

P.P.P.S. Tickets go on sale tomorrow.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Long Time, No Blog

I gave myself a five-day weekend. It was wonderful. For some reason, I chose to take an unpaid five-day weekend. Not so wonderful. But the government will soon send me a cheque that covers the lost income over my lovely time away from the computer. Tax season is sometimes okay. Like this year. In so many ways.

Let me catch you up [Tues-Sun]:
  • Brothers (+ girlfriend of Brother 2) arrive by Greyhound
  • We eat Easter chocolate
  • And blow up the air mattress
  • We go to dinner
  • We see Eugene Mirman at the mall
  • We see Flight of the Conchords
  • We laugh
  • I wear plaid
  • We visit a 24-hour grocery store and buy frozen pizza and chocolate milk
  • Midnight pizza at my place
  • Indoor camping at my place
  • The next morning is Brother 1's birthday, so we go out for breakfast
  • Breakfast is across the street, beside the under-construction cocktail lounge
  • We head to the bus station and say goodbye to Bro 2 + girlfriend
  • Bro 1 and I meet up with Vancouver friend and old Guelph friend
  • Bro 1 gets on the bus
  • He should have boarded a train
  • Vancouver friend and I end up in a coffee shop
  • We chat, just like old times - but better
  • We part ways
  • I go home and write and write and write
  • I sleep
  • I go to the gym
  • I think about skill sets and career goals
  • And ponder the great unknown
  • And then I try to tell a stranger about said skills and goals
  • I embed a YouTube video and subsequently embark on a new adventure -- maybe
  • I fire off invoices
  • I do laundry
  • I write about Salma Hayek
  • I wake up super-early
  • I read The Great Gatsby on the subway
  • I read The Great Gatsby in Tim Hortons
  • The parents arrive
  • I get in the van, and later notice it's a new van
  • It's moving day at Emmanuel Bible College
  • I carry Bro 2's CD racks and shoes and watch everyone else move him out
  • Lunch with grandparents in Kitchener
  • So we order pizza
  • And eat chocolate cake
  • Happy 55th anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa
  • Happy birthday, Dad
  • We play games
  • We watch the sky darken
  • And watch the thunderstorm
  • I'm dropped off in Toronto
  • I prepare for KidMax
  • I wake up early
  • I go to church in the rain
  • I teach kids about the Great Commission
  • And build microphones out of cardboard and tinfoil
  • Microphones double as weapons
  • I go home and nap for two hours
  • I make Monday's breakfast and lunch
  • I catch up on emails
  • I go to 4worship in Newmarket
  • And sing
  • And sing
  • And sing
  • Jack Astor's for salad and conversation
  • Finally home, with this perfect song in my head:


Brooke Fraser is tied with the Conchord boys for favorite New Zealander. But this song doesn't need her. It stands alone.

I feel like I'm forgetting something. But I've been writing all evening and nothing makes sense anymore. I need sleep. So good night.


P.S. Dev Patel and Freida Pinto are dating. So are a lot of other people, I'm sure. But I can only write about one couple at a time. Sheesh.

Friday, April 24, 2009

It Happened Wednesday Night: Flight of the Conchords

I smuggled in my camera. Rules don't apply to me.

They played "Sellotape."
And "Albi the Racist Dragon."
And paused the show until some guy in the front came back from the washroom.
And I laughed. Very, very hard.

Note to self: Laugh out loud every day.
Other note to self: Apartment officially sleeps four. Almost comfortably.
Final note to self: Next time you see Eugene Mirman walking around the Eaton Centre, talk to him. Ignoring quasi-famous funny men is so last year.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

YouTube Tuesday: Conchords Countdown

This is my desktop wallpaper at work:


It captures, A, how I feel most mornings, and, B, my love for all things Flight of the Conchords. Tomorrow evening, I will I see them live. (Sans Rhys, but still....) After that, all joy in my life will merely be icing on the cake.

Once upon a late sleepless night (Boy Behind the Wall was hosting an eclectic listening party of sorts), I was sent this via the wonderful world wide web:


Rhys is a new favorite. And at the top of my list of fantasy-dinner-party-invitees. Hilarious.

Some highlights:



Many thanks, Adam! We'll have to compare concert notes.

Sellotape (Pencils in the Wind)

Why does this song not get the love it deserves? It's not on their EP or CD. Tragic.



Rags to Rags....

You've probably seen this. Most of my Conchords friends have posted this on their blogs. Because it's brilliant.




P.S. This guy is opening for Flight of the Conchords. "Canada is what happens what love falls in love." So true. I think.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

YouTube Tuesday: Last Night

Katy Perry at Kool Haus

Since yesterday's post was filled with musical references, I figured I'd just expand here with fun visuals courtesy of YouTube. As is the weekly tradition.

First, my life in Toronto Star headlines:
  • U2 is sold out. Sort of. Stupid Ticketmaster. (And no, I did NOT pay $252 for mine.)
  • Katy Perry was sold out. And packed with teenyboppers. I'm still recovering from being assaulted with ponytails. But 'twas fun.
  • And in other news, my friend and I showed up in the same pair of shoes. Apparently half a decade of absence does not negate amazingly identical tastes in footwear. The Star did not cover this. Should have.
The Daylights



They opened last night. And were quite good. With a bit of a U2-meet-The-Killers vibe. Too bad they confused "conceived" with "consummated" during an otherwise cute moment of banter. I care about the misuse of vocabulary. Especially when around impressionable/dumb teenagers.

Extra props for waiting until every fan who wanted to meet them did. I appreciate non-divas.

Katy



No, the video's not from last night. But she did grab a remarkably similar acoustic moment. And impressed me with her ability to sing live.

To keep things interesting, there was an inflatable cherry chapstick on-stage. And she sang in front of an inflatable "Kitty Purry" set. And wore a penguin mini-dress. Did I mention that teenagers love her? Adorableness-meets-questionable-lyrical-content.

And coming up....

U2



I heart "One." And to hear it played in Ireland would be pretty darn fantastic. Most of you know I'm not a beer drinker. But I'll have a pint in Dublin one day. Preferably with The Edge. I think he's highly underrated.

Am I excited for September? I'll have to get back to you on that one.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Monday with Katy

I'm not blogging tonight. Because I'm a Katy Perry concert. With a friend I haven't seen since her wedding FIVE YEARS AGO. I couldn't find any vintage pin-up pieces in my closet. Fashion fail.

You change your mind
Like a girl changes clothes
I once tried on the majority of my wardrobe just to go to a movie with a guy. A casual evening. With someone who could care less about fashion.

But I've also gone to the movies in worn-out cords and a stained shirt. With another guy who could care less about fashion.

Neither event morphed into a passionate love affair.* Apparently clothes have little to do with anything. Although I still choose to wear them. And change them.

*Oddly, the stained-shirt evening resulted in greater pursuit on the guy's part. Dirty is sexy. (Literal dirt, not Christina Aguilera "Dirty.") Nice guy, too. But I ran. 'Cause I'm hot and I'm cold....

Oh, and if you can't imagine that I would have a favorite Katy Perry song, you are wrong. This is it. It's on my iPod. I live to shock you.



Pastors' daughters, unite!

P.S. Less than a month until I see Flight of the Conchords live!
P.P.S. Today I scored tickets for U2's September show. My musical world is exploding into greatness.
P.P.P.S. I've never kissed a girl. And I'm trying to keep it that way.

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

My Night Without Eric Hutchinson


Remember this post? Well, I was right. I totally fell for the quirky Eric Hutchinson. He's my fake musician boyfriend of the month. Which is why it's completely tragic that I'm typing this. See, AT THIS VERY MOMENT, he's playing in Toronto. And I'm in Toronto. And we are not together. Sigh.

Matt Hires is opening. Yes, this guy. The endearing singer/songwriter from the Brooke Fraser concert. We're practically BFFs.

Of course, this isn't quite as sad as last month's Sam Roberts situation. Sam played in my neighborhood. Four times in one week. Walking distance from my house. I did not go. It's one of those regrets that will haunt me on my deathbed, I'm sure.

I need some sort of lack-of-concert intervention. Quick, someone take me to Bono!

While I sulk, watch this. It's proof that Hutchinson can perform live. (Yeah, he's a keyboard and guitar guy. Of course he is.) He can also play brilliantly from my iPod. Which is as close as we get these days.

Best lyric:

Ridin' the subway with the scent of her hair
She took out a toothbrush, started usin' it there
She explained, "I'm always sure today's the day I will die
I wanna look good if I get to look God in the eye."



Yeah, I've been on a wordplay kick. Be witty with cute rhyming schemes, boys. Like Jason Mraz.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

It Happened Last Night: Brooke Fraser. Again.

She belongs in a another era, no?

I saw Brooke Fraser last night. I'm pretty sure that twice in three months is a record for me. And it's one I'd have no problem breaking, as I'm pretty much an addict now. Love her. As should you. But I don't love her in the way a crazy fan in line professed to, sheepishly admitting that he announced to his friends he was going to marry her before discovering she was, in fact, already married. A real fan would have done his research. Sheesh.

(No, the glasses aren't real. She threw on over-sized plastic frames to distract us from the fact that she wasn't wearing makeup. And then told us all that she wasn't wearing any makeup. 'Cause that's the way she rolls.)

I think I prefer her live. Her album is amazing, but she has a rather oddball sense of humor and inspiring musical proficiency that makes her even better on stage. And her voice is clearer and gutsier and all-around more remarkable when she's in the same room as you. Except when she's cracking up during the first verse of "The Sounds of Silence." Or trying to sing "O Canada." But that's all part of her charm.

Highlight? "Love is Waiting." I love the verses. So much so that every time I hear it, I wish I had written it. Or at least plagiarized a couple lyrics in a conversation I had not all that long ago. I believe this is the first tour with that song on the set list. Mostly because she doesn't know what to do with her hands. (It's the only song that doesn't have her playing the piano or guitar.) So she improvised:

It's my caution, not the cold....

Okay, I'm done gushing now.
I need to learn to play the guitar.

The end.

It Happened Last Night: Matt Hires

He's young, super-talented, a little shy and completely endearing. But not in a cuddly way. In a cool way. There is a difference. And not Jonas Brothers-young either. Whew. I'd sign him to my label if I had one. And I may have met him. And I may own his EP. And I may have quickly fired a text message to BC to confirm his cuteness. Maybe.

Oh, how I fall victim to the "acoustic guitar + boy" combination. Especially with material like this:

Honey, let me sing you a song
And listen to my words as they come out wrong
But don't run away, run away this time

Honey, let me look in your eyes
And you open them one at a time
But don't look away, look away this time

I should have written that song. Especially the "as they come out wrong" line. But he got to it first.

Honey, Let Me Sing You A Song - Matt Hires

Check out his MySpace page. Be his friend.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

It Happened Last Night: The Encore

It Happened Last Night: Brooke Fraser

She makes the kind of music that sounds like a pop marshmallow has dropped into a folk hot chocolate and become a warm, spicy chocolatey broth.

BrookeFraser.com
She was spectacular. As was expected. And instead of inarticulate gushiness, I shall leave it at that.

Love her.

It Happened Last Night: William Fitzsimmons


william: acoustic guitar, electric guitar, slide guitar, melodica, banjo, mandolin, vocals, programming, production, arguably inappropriate lyrical self-disclosure

http://www.myspace.com/williamfitzsimmons

William is the last guy at the campfire. That's how I describe him. After everyone has had their fun, played their little ditties and headed off to their tents, he's still strumming away as the embers fade, baring just a little too much of his soul beneath the midnight sky to the sleepy few remaining.