Monday, March 30, 2009

THE WONDER TWINS DO RA RA RIOT AT THE BLIND PIG; SUFFER FOR THEIR ART...

Posted on Mon, Mar 30, 2009 at 4:22 PM

MT's own Wonder Twins -- Laura and D'Anne Witkowski -- comment on the So Many Dynamos, Cut off Your Hands and Ra Ra Riot show at the Blind Pig last Thursday night, March 26th:

Laura: Well this was the most expensive concert I’ve been to in a long time.

D’Anne: Yes, as it turns out, your debilitating love for Morrissey doesn’t qualify you for handicapped parking.

L: No, and apparently having you in the car also doesn’t qualify us for a handicap spot.

D: I just hope that $100 ticket you got has seared the image of some poor dude on crutches without anywhere to park into your brain.

L: Oh, I’ve learned my lesson all right. That it’s easier to walk the block to Biggby than to drive like D’Anne says we should.

D: Enough about your sad life. Let’s talk about the show. So Many Dynamos, so little time...

L: How many Dynamos were there? Four?

D: Four, yes. And none of them wearing sweatpants, thankfully. Still, some poor sartorial choices.

L: Uh, what does “sartorial” mean?

D: It means having to do with, like, clothing and stuff. I learned it in grad school.

L: Who the fuck do you think we’re writing for, the Harvard Review?

D: I wish.

L: Anyway, I liked So Many Dynamos enough, but they really reminded me of Thunderbirds Are Now!, to the point where I kept thinking, “I really wish I was watching Thunderbirds Are Now!”

D: I liked the last song they sang, the one about sickle cell anemia. There aren’t a lot of songs about sickle cell that you can dance to.

L: I agree. Dancing can help spread awareness about disease. It worked for AIDS.

D: So, Cut Off Your Hands...

L: If they took their own advice, they’d have a hard time being a band any more.

D: True. A very ironic name for a band that uses so much hand clapping in their songs.

L: Isn’t “hand clapping” kind of redundant? What other kind of clapping is there?

D: Thunder clapping. You know, in a storm.

L: Yes, like a shit storm. Though I didn’t know anything about them, I could tell the moment they walked onstage that they were from another country.

D: Yes! You could tell by their shoes. The bassist and guitarist were wearing fancy prancing shoes. The drummer was also wearing dress shoes. Also, didn’t he look like Philip Seymour Hoffman? And the bassist looked just like Curt Smith from Tears for Fears.

L: Kind of. They played a really energetic and catchy set, which was lucky for them because I think a good chunk of the audience expected Passion Pit since they were originally on the bill. At one point, the lead singer said something to this effect, but you couldn’t understand him because he is from New Zealand.

D: They sounded like Tokyo Police Club with a splash of Franz Ferdinand to me.

L: I would throw in the Strokes. Maybe it’s not cool to say that any more, but it’s true.

D: Don’t worry. No one thinks you’re cool.

L: Thanks.

D: By the time Ra Ra Riot came on, it was four in the morning. Or maybe it was midnight. It’s all a blur. I’m still tired.

L: It’s one thing to be tired, it’s another thing to be tired and completely surrounded by people who seem to have no need or regard for personal space. But I guess that’s just what college kids are used to.

D: Ra Ra Riot was really good, though. It was worth giving up some of my personal space. Speaking of which, I loved their Space Cello and Space Violin. Electric strings!

L: I’m assuming you mean “space” as in outer, not space as in personal.

D: Yes. And they played “Suspended In Gaffa,” which was awesome. Best Kate Bush cover ever?

L: Indeed. Looking around the room, I felt like we might be the only people in there who remember the original. If only age alone qualified me for handicapped parking.

D: It doesn’t.

L: Yup. And I have the $100 ticket to prove it.

D’Anne and Laura write about music for Metro Times. If you would like to donate to their “Oh, shit, we totally did not see that sign!” parking violation fund, please do so via the Harvard Review.

Ra Ra Riot: Invading "personal space"...

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