or hangin' with the Scots. Hootman!!
Okay, so remember me?
It seems we were on a little break. No, it wasn't you at all. You've been here the entire time being all supportive and encouraging and shit. It was totally me. I've been less than focused of late. Okay, more like scattered and tattered and completely unable to sit still to create ... whatever the Hell this is.
Maybe it's a wave of, oh let's call it "pre" shall we, pre-menopausal mind melt. Maybe it's the flux of extracurricular activities to which I cannot seem to say no. Maybe it's the drastic reduction of my red wine consumption.
I'm going with the later.
The later I can fix.
Now hand me that bottle with the screw cap. I don't have time to pop a cork, dammit! This is an emergency!
Yeah. So let's start over.
Hi there! My name is Murry and I gotta tell you about these five Scottsman Geo and I spent the evening with. Yes, I realize I just ended the sentence with a preposition. This ain't a high-brow tome I'm penning here. Besides, English is not my first language. That's my story and I'm running with it. Hey! It's my blog, so shut up, Gringo.
But I digress...
I fell in love with the Scottish band, Frightened Rabbit when Betty, Barney and I went to SXSW this past March. I was familiar with their music beforehand, but seeing them play four times that week made them my new imaginary BFFs with a side of brilliant brogue. I've been talking them up like crazy to Geo ever since, so when they set a tour date here in the Burgh, we jumped on it.
The day of the concert, three of the charming lads stopped by WYEP for an in-studio session at noon. Shhh. Don't tell anyone, but I managed to sneak away from the Special K a tad early (just a tad, I pinky swear) to dash across town to catch the performance. Counting on the inevitable tardiness of rock folk, I crossed my fingers, drove like a controlled hell and managed to walk in before the doors opened.
Brothers Scott and Grant along with Gordon were terrific, playing four songs and charming the rapt audience with tales from the road. Truth be told, with that brogue they could have recited the alphabet and we all would have been enchanted, hanging on their every A, E, I, O, U sometimes Y.
|The Head Rabbit and Me|
I had a lovely chat afterwards with lead singer/songwriter, Scott who could not have been any nicer. For this tour, he's been drawing bearded characters on anything from cardboard to album sleeves. They sell them at the merch table for $20, first come-first served. This was the bearded fellow from our show. The couple in front of us bought it. So close...
One other funny tidbit from the in-studio. Scott's brother, Grant has a chemical formula tattooed on his forearm. Turns out it's the chemical equation for the skin cream he uses. Weird, but whatever. Who am I to judge.
The show was terrific. The venue...meh. It's not an awful setting, but they remodeled the upstairs from open space around the perimeter to these little pods with awkwardly placed couches that didn't face the stage. Begs the question um...why?
|look. they have Frightened Rabbits... in their pants|
We stood against the railing as our little cubicle filled up with young FRabbits enthusiasts. Halfway through, Geo, my wonderfully thoughtful Geo, swapped places with the youngins standing behind us. They could not have been more thrilled or more genuinely polite and thankful. They were so sweet, I didn't even mind the one girl's horrifying singing voice. Okay, well maybe I minded a little. She was dreadful! I'm not kidding. It will make your brain bleed. Watch. You can't not hear her assaulting your senses.
(my ears with a long stick)
But then again, how can I fault her. She was enjoying the hell out of herself. And it's not like I haven't tortured those poor saps around me with my wretched pipes.
Living In Colour
Nothing Like You
As always, there are a few more videos on my YouTube channel here.
Anywho, a fun time was had by all. The evening ended around 11:30pm, making my 3am wake-up call punishing, but worth the foggy mind, buzzing eardrums and burn marks on my face from shoving my head under the coffee maker in the morning. As our one friend always says, you can sleep when you're dead.