Friday, August 15, 2008


"I don't think Passion Pit need that much help from the media at this point. The audience, not sold out but close, was singing along to almost all the songs and seriously dancing."---Sound Bites


I stepped into the back room of Pianos as the second band of the night's line-up, Murray Flexor, told the audience a joke about stealing pickles from Passion Pit's Michael Angelakos. It's unclear whether the audience should have laughed at this joke, as I did not arrive early enough to determine whether it was funny. A quick scan of the audience indicated that they were mostly white people wearing glasses, v-necks, and lots of varying plaids. Since I arrived alone and with no time to change into my plaid armor of coolness, I tried to blend in by drinking a few Heinekens and text-messaging some friends that I pretended were coming to meet up with me. Hints of unnatural behavior would cause the individuals surrounding me to realize my true identity as audience critic and ruin the authenticity of this report.

As expected, the vanilla shake gradually thickened while Passion Pit set up their equipment, 10PM approached, and more white people flooded into the tiny venue. A quick glance noticed a little flavor among the bunch, notably Murray Flexor member Awesome Angelica. I stationed myself a few feet away from the stage, but not so close that I'd fail to steal glimpses of attendees in the back of the room.

The show was about to start. "Does anyone have a guitar pick?" asks a member of the band, "Come on, someone in hear has to be in a band..." A young man throws his hands in the air, throwing something that resembled gang signs, but he was unable to provide a pick. In fact, the audience was an extreme failure regarding providing guitar picks. Audience members should always come equipped with spare guitar picks just in case. Even if they're just going to see a lap-top DJ! Think about it...You're going to see some faggy Steve Aoki wanna-be DJ and tragedy strikes! His MacBook crashes. Luckily, Michelle Branch is there and she says, "I'll play instead. Does anyone have a guitar pick? My fingers are feeling frail. If you give me a guitar pick, I will hang out with you." Don't you regret not bringing a spare guitar pick? Wouldn't it be sooooo random and ironic to tell your friends that you hung out with Michelle Branch? Yeah, it would be. But you didn't bring a pick, jackass.

Luckily, Awesome Angelica of Murray Flexor was a quick thinker, and suggested that the guitarist substitute a beer cap as his pick. Now the show was on the road. As Passion Pit began to play, my body moved in mysterious and dorky ways. I looked around and a frown came upon my face---the vanilla shake was not shaking. Apparently nobody told them that plaid is not a substitute for dancing.

To make matters worse, two girls (who were too annoying to NOT be NYU students) stood behind me, and I'm absolutely positive that they were making fun of my dancing. Don't mock if you can't rock! When the two girls weren't busy making fun of me, I caught them dancing, letting the rhythm rape their bodies like total cumsluts for the music. What song were they dancing to? "Sleepyhead", as posted on Pitchfork and brooklynvegan. This song was the only one to get a large portion of the crowd moving. Um, not to be awksies, but were yall 4real fans or faux-real fans?

Only six audience members managed to dance consistently through the set, and half of those six were the entirety of Murray Flexor. Even so, the audience smelled mad stinky, which is a feat given that they weren't dancing. If you want to rock your pheromones, do it to it. But not when you're about to get sweaty in a crowded room. Which reminds me...that dude from Sound Bites told one truth. The joint was so packed that you couldn't drink this vanilla shake with a straw, but the audience doesn't automatically get points for showing up. That's like giving people points for submitting their name on a standardized test. Bump that. Dunce caps for not dancing.

There appears to be an epidemic going throughout this city, possibly the world, in which people show up for shows where they should be dancing...and then they don't dance. In the immortal words of the poets Men Without Hats, "We can dance if you want to. We can leave your friends behind. Cause your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance they're no friends of mine." Don't you want to be my friend? Let's dance.