A Night at the Roxy

Wednesday night, Kristian and I went and saw The Faint at the  Roxy in Boston. As neither of us was wearing skinny jeans, message t-shirts or black eye liner, I felt very, very unhip. Also, kindof old. Damn kids with their popular music and their spiky hair. Making me feel all out of it and lame. 

Now that we’re homeowners, I have the added challenge of keeping them off my damn lawn.

*Raises a cane and shakes it with all of the strength that her arthritic hands can handle*

The opening band, Jaguar Love, really took the cake. Or, in this case, my will to live. Or to continue on with fully functioning eardrums. The lead singer strutted around the stage with all of the swagger of a young Keith Richards and just as much vocal talent as one Mr. William Hung. I thought that perhaps it was my old ears that couldn’t handle the new and exciting music that the young folk are listening to these days. 

Apparently, we weren’t the only people who thought they sucked. In between the end of their set and when the Faint went onstage, I think that we heard just about every single person in the venue talk about how terrible they were. I believe that I heard the phrases, “tone deaf,” “out of key,” and “no talent ass clowns” bandied about. 

Ok, I might have made that last one up.

But they really were no talent ass clowns.