Or maybe just Colin Maloy.
The Lovely Miss Q and I were lucky enough to be at the Paramount on Friday night, to watch this crazy entertaining band perform. And they are. CRAZY. Entertaining. I mean, I didn’t know you could have that much fun with your pants on.
(Ahem—parents—this would be one of those occasions where I just went ahead and wrote something in spite of the fact that you will probably read it. So, yeah. Perhaps I have made it worse by saying it and then commenting on it? Perhaps you wish I would just STOP TALKING ABOUT IT ALREADY? Ok.)
The Decemberists. They were all wearing pants. And it was such a fun show! The kind of show where everyone is really involved with what’s going on on stage, and sometimes the whole audience would sing along and it wasn’t even annoying. There was a lot of clapping along and the cute accordion/organ/tambourine/other-piano-like-thing playing girl told the following joke for no apparent reason:
Q) What kind of bees give milk?
How can you not be instantly endeared to a person that stands up in front of a couple of thousand people and says that? You cannot. Or anyway I could not. And neither could TLMQ. And if we are easily endeared to people, what of it?
I think I am off-track. And somehow defensive. It was a really great night, and even the opening band was good and that almost never happens and I would totally see The Decemberists again even if I had to pay for it.
The rest of the weekend was a very strange combination of chaos and laziness. And I was only drunk part of the time.
But I did eat ice cream cake and see an old friend—both were fantastic and gone way too soon.