The intergalactic presses have been halted accordingly

Message History
03.05.07 9:37pm Josh: Exactly how much Dragon constitutes a Force?
03.05.07 9:39pm Dan: Infinite.

You know, I think he's right.

So,

Subtle single-handedly ruined every other concert I've ever been to by putting them all to unrequited shame. The electric cello rendered impotent the work of any mere guitarist, soaring and transmogrifying with deft insanity to produce an absolutely un-goddamn-limited palette of sound. A man I could swear was television's Gregory House played sax, oboe, flute, and synth whilst wear an enormous, body-enshrouding cape. Their drums were almost entirely provided via synth and for the first ten minutes I had no idea why that man was hitting his synthezier so wildly. Their canonical drummer also played guitar and looked exactly like Goddamn Kurt Cobaine, and from the moment the first howitzer volley of drums made my pants nearly fall off to Adam Drucker's closing litany of sun-eating machine gun nonsense scraped off of my very human soul, I knew what love was.

I am serious when I say these things.

Unbelievably personal, endlessly artistic, immaculately executed, and Doseone telling stories about New Jersian eggplant and how he got into Rapper Heaven early. He was dressed like a nineteenth century English Lord after a mugging by voodoo priests and threw plastic forks at us. I managed to rescue a filth encrusted, possibly Hep-A toting remnant of this barrage off of the floor afterward and I'm positively never going to let it go.

Perfect.

TV On The Radio's follow up performance couldn't hope to hold my attention with the same exquisite carnality, excellent as it was. Young Liars couldn't have been a better opener, and those coy bastards left Staring At The Sun to the very end of their tripartite encore, but something did feel amiss. It was too heavy, the production-laced nuances of their legendary albums were either impossible to pick out or else abandoned entirely - but then, it was still TVotR. I won't go so far as to say that the anticonian hip-hoppers upstaged the crowned indie lords of New York, but then, they did.

I'm at least three steps out of synch in school, and the ride back afterward felt like a long swim through some sort of gothic, evil cereal, but as my ride-getting, trunk-sleeping-in friends have enthusiastically drilled into my head, it was so totally worth it.

I'm going to have to write a review of the previously mentioned Abandoned Language and so help me God it is not going to be positive.