two-thirteen

That’s what time it is…in the a.m.

Oops, it just turned 2:14, actually.

I’m in bed, about to hit the hay. I smell like a pack of cigarettes from standing in The EARL for the past several hours.

Lemme back up.

I went to a bridal shower earlier today for GE’s little sister who is getting married in November. It was a really nice shower, and I had forgotten how girly those things can be. I’m glad I could be there though. The bride-to-be informed me that the wedding attire is cocktail attire, so that means I either need to workout like a crazy woman to fit into my too-cute size 4 BCBG little black dress, or I get to go shopping. I’d honestly rather fit into the dress I already have, but I’m guessing even if I do make it down to a 4 by November, I’ll still want to go shopping.

After the shower, I drove back into town, listening to Tim Gunn’s very interesting Project Runway podcasts. The drive, though, was so long and sunny, that by the time I got back into town, I was soooo sleepy. I actually went to my office and crashed on the couch for an hour before heading to my favorite coffeeshop to get some of my freelance work done before the concert tonight.

So that brings me to the show at The EARL. JH and I showed up around 10, maybe? and made our way to the performance space. After a little while, the opening act went on. She was a teeny girl who reminded me very much of Winona Ryder. It was just her, her guitar, two mikes, and a mysterious percussion thing controlled by her foot. At one point, she said, “My band’s name is St. Vincent,” which made me think that she must usually play with more band members. But we later learned that no, her band is just her, a band of one.

After St. Vincent, a man even smaller than her came onstage. He had long hair and a gruff, chiseled face with cheekbones that had hints of Native American heritage in them. He was tiny, and even his guitar was small. He was so interesting, the way he fiddled with the controls of his guitar and such and never said a word. So when he opened his mouth, and the voice of a 12-year-old girl came out, I was totally surprised. He was such an odd character. At one point, he mumbled something totally unintelligible, threw his guitar down to his feet and ran offstage. It took us a minute to figure out that he had forgotten something that he had rushed to grab before the next song. Weird.

The weirdest part was that when José González (the main act) thanked the folks at the venue and the opening acts, we learned that the teeny mumbling high-pitched singer’s name was Death Vessel.

I kid you not.

Anyway, José González was just awesome. JH and I had been at the venue for so long that we were standing in practically the second row. So it was up close and personal, which is really the way I think José’s performance should be enjoyed. He was adorable, quiet and deliberate, and man, what an incredible musician. It was just him and his guitar, and he opened with my favorite song of his, “Deadweight on Velveteen.” The layers of sound and percussive beats he’s able to produce with just his guitar are incredible. He played for only about an hour, which honestly seemed shorter than Death Vessel’s (snicker snicker) set, but I am hopeful that he will return, and to a more comfortable venue next time.

I smell like a pack of cigarettes. I have never been surrounded by so many chainsmokers in my life. Or maybe I have, but I had forgotten what that was like. I’ve been spoiled by all the non-smoking establishments and the general decline in the “cool factor” of smoking. My eyes and nose burned from inhaling all the secondhand smoke. I think that was my fill of secondhand smoke for the year. So maybe I can return to The EARL for a show sometime in 2007.

Kidding. I think. I’m sure it’s not always that bad.

Anyway, it’s now 2:31 a.m. and I have definitely got to go to sleep now. Zzzzzzzzzzz….