Monday, October 24, 2005

Daddy's Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car

When I got over here, I looked up the websites of pretty much every band I've linked to over. It was amazing how many of them had played the US East Coast in late September and early October and that I had just missed, but I still had a few options.

During the summer an Irish Times Ticket article mentioned a Montreal band called Wolf Parade. As I was already a huge fan of The Arcade Fire and Stars, I figured I'd like these as well and I did love their EP, which I bought off iTunes. Anyway, for $7 in, they were playing in Cafe 9 in New Haven - the dump of a town seemingly built around Yale University (alma mater of Mr Burns!). New Haven actually has an Irish bar called the Playwright that is, supposedly, an Irish Church dismantled and carted over to this part of New England.

Well they were excellent and I bought their album at the gig and listened to it all the way home in the car. The gig was listed as doors 9.30 and we were in before 8 cos it was pissing rain (again) and we were bored walking around getting drowned. The place was full by 9:30 when the support act came on - some dude who fancied himself as a Bob Dylan type, boring me with Dylan-esque "listen to those lyrics and ignore the fact that the guy can't sing and the tunes suck".

Then, at 10:30, three freaks of nature whose sound seemed to consist of a drum-kit and various takes on car alarms annoyed the crap out of me for about an hour. Must have been influenced by Radiohead. Then ANOTHER support act kicked off at 11:30 and played the most depressing turgid guff (even worse than The Frames) for another hour. Example "This next song is about not being dead but everyone treats you like you're dead and you see your headstone and you see a birth date but no death date after the dash and you feel buried alive". People were nearly asleep by the end, but amazingly polite. I dunno how they got away with it.

Anyway Wolf Parade didn't start til nearly 1am, so it was a good thing they were excellent otherwise I would have gone nuts. You can download Shine A Light and You Are A Runner.

Lenny thinks he's an excellent driver, like most people do. Lenny is a shit driver, like most people are. I know I'm not great myself. I go too fast (though I'm better now) and I'm a bit aggressive. But I religiously avoid all of these, which makes me better than most, I think. I've done most of the distance driving here, being content to let Lenny drive us to work while I sip my coffee. But, sort of like a child being denied a go on a new toy, he insisted he drive us to Hartford (state capital) yesterday.
Well good Jebus it was excruciating stuff. Crawling along a 3-lane Highway at 55 mph, then speeding up, driving too close to slower vehicles and then braking (repeated ad nauseum). Lenny would regularly get caught in an exit lane, slow down to change and then call everybody else forced to pass on both sides idiots! I just sat there gritting my teeth.
Then we hit a pretty hard rain shower. Now Lenny was already struggling to stay in his lane: "Aww, y'know they should have cats eyes like we do, d'y'know", and this finished him off. He allowed the inside of the car run out of the lane and onto the hard shoulder. The change in surface under the car made him panic and he hammered on the brakes, aqua-planing us into the hard-shoulder. Somehow he managed not to wreck the car on the barriers. Thank Christ we weren't in an outside lane or he would probably have drifted in front of a juggernaut.
"Lenny", I said, "I'm driving".
So this weekend Lenny hacked me off by trying to get me killed.
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