Elsewhere

Following up on my musings the other day about life in rural areas or small towns/cities, one of the things I like about living in a larger metropolitan area is the wealth of entertainment/cultural options. For instance, one big local coup is the upcoming Andy Warhol exhibition, its only North American stop.

It's cool that on a day like today I can decide on a whim to see Gnarls Barkley in concert. While not all of the hot bands come through Columbus, we get a fairly high percentage of them. If not, there's a pretty good chance they'll land somewhere within a couple hours of here along I-71. This was one of those shows I didn't even know about until a day or two ago, but I thought it might be fun to go if I could get a ticket. I am on vacation, after all.

I had a busy day doing work (seeing The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor, Swing Vote, and The Wackness) and then moseyed over to the Newport to catch the concert. For this show it would be a good thing to bring the funk. Standing on the floor prior to the performance I realized that I definitely had. Unfortunately this was the funk of the malodorous variety. I was completely mortified, not to mention mystified. I'd bathed and put on freshly washed clothes. Sure, the day was a scorcher, and I'd perspired plenty on my walk from my car to the OSU campus area theater and then to the concert venue but...this?

Now, my powers of invisibility are strong, but this scent, which seemed to come in waves, was less easy to hide. The idea of standing around in a crowded space for two hours until the headliners came on was making me sweat more. I had half a mind to leave. Instead I staked out a new spot toward the back and away from the fans of the air-circulating kind. The stink seemed to disappear, which let me relax, but I tried to maintain a larger buffer around me just in case.

As for the concert, I was distracted to get the full enjoyment out of it. Between fearing that I carried an unmistakable stink and getting annoyed with the constant chatter from those in attendance, it was difficult to attain any of the transcendent moments that music (and live music in particular) can deliver.

Seriously, why do people pay good money to go to concerts and then carry on the most inane conversations possible or keep popping open their cell phones, with their irritating glows, to talk or text? A half hour into Gnarls Barkley's set I heard one woman near me screech, "You're still here!" to someone she knew who passed by. Gee, I'd hope so. It cost more than a cover charge to get in the door. Every time I looked over during her incessant chatter, she had her back to the stage. As for the phones, I'm glad that now everyone is important enough that they can't turn off the devices for a couple hours lest they miss a call or text message.

Anyway, there were no crazy costumes, just Cee-Lo, Danger Mouse, and the backing band in suits, bowties, and (briefly for the supporting players) Buddy Holly glasses. Danger Mouse bobbed his head like a camel while playing the organ. Cee-Lo looked like a roly-poly infant blessed with a set of pipes that gives the band a distinctive vocal sound reminiscent of old rock n' roll and rhythm n' blues.

It was a good show, although nothing remarkable. Even if they do have just two albums to draw from, the relatively brief performance time--about an hour and ten minutes by my count with plenty of downtime between songs--was irksome for a mid-priced ticket. The cover of Radiohead's "Reckoner" was quite nice, though, and "Smiley Face" put a bounce in the step as they left the stage.