Of having one kickin' song representing your city

I was watching the Of Montreal show tonight and I was all like “ehh rock shows are so lame” because I was tired and standing up a lot.

Interjection: this is not at all a fair criticism. If there’s one thing the Of Montreal show is, it’s not lame. It featured a half-dozen dancers who played, at various times, golden statues, tigers and other animals, armymen, western gunslingers, and one big stone monster with huge limbs. There were a double-digit number of costume changes. The music is of course great, and they didn’t half-ass anything. Plus I have a big man-crush on Kevin Barnes. But then, who doesn’t?

End interjection. (that is not possibly the wright word. Nor is “wright” the write word there. Hoo boy, it’s laght at nite.) So I’m all like “ehh” and then there’s the encore and I was really thinking of skipping out before the encore, fatigue blah blah, and they Gronlandic Edit and Oslo in the Summertime, which were both cool, and then they cover Take Me Out, har har, okay. Then Kevin (so dreamy, etc.) says “we mean no disrespect by this next song. only love.” and there’s that chik-ah ka-chik-ah ka-chik-ah ka-chik drum riff and they go into Smells Like Teen Spirit. Hah! I took out my earplugs and like bobbed along a little bit! Which is saying a lot, considering how still I had been standing.

And it kicked arse! I suppose it is kind of one of those songs. And it’s ours! Seattle’s! I lay claim to it as if I were a native. Hah. But man! Maybe everyone thinks of Seattle as the home of the Grunge Rock Hall of Fame, and grunge kinda drags in general, but at least we have Smells Like Teen Spirit. Whoo!

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