Saturday night BK and I went to a (!) concert at the Granada Theater on Greenville. Before Bob Schneider hit the stage at about 10:45 (I'll spare you the old-woman bitching about why does it have to be so late, yadda yadda yadda), we were treated to two opening acts. The first band was so completely forgettable that both BK and I thought we might die of boredom as a result of just being in the same room as them. The highlight of that performance was when the lead singer spoke up between songs and told the audience, "We wrote this one for William Faulkner." I'd like to tell you what the Faulkner song was about, but I regrettably sipped back into a coma when they started playing.
The second band -- The Deathray Davies -- made quite the impression, however. As I type this, I am fully aware that I am outing myself as singularly lame. I am sure that all the kids listen to The DRD, and by professing my pre-weekend ignorance of their existance AND by preparing to mock them, I am branding myself as An Old Fuddy Duddy. Still, the following needs to be said, so here goes.
The Deathray Davies weren't bad. Some of their songs were pretty catchy in that 00's rock renaissance sort of way. No, my problem with The DRD centered solely around one person -- the keyboard player. Now, the keyboard player ROCKED, y'all. He had one mean straddle going in front of his keyboard, and nodded his head back and forth in a spectacularly violent fashion throughout the set. His patented move, though, reserved for particularly ROCKIN moments, was an impressive sideways kick with his left leg. So it would be straddle straddle nod nod straddle straddle nod nod KICK and let me tell you, homeboy did not play. The Kilgore Rangerettes would be honored to have him on their line.
But here's the problem: every straddle straddle nod nod straddle straddle nod nod KICK would be followed by one more element of this finely-tuned tango -- the right hand would inevitably wander over to the button that controlled the fog machine and PRESS. Imagine, if you will, every 10 seconds:
straddle straddle nod nod straddle straddle nod nod KICK ... PRESS
straddle straddle nod nod straddle straddle nod nod KICK ... PRESS
straddle straddle nod nod straddle straddle nod nod KICK ... PRESS
It's really not surprising, then, that halfway through The Deathray Davies' set, the entire Granada Theater was filled with a dense layer of smoke, completely obscuring the band on stage. Even we seated lameos in the balcony could not escape the wrath of the keyboard player's right hand. It's a good thing we weren't driving, people, because visibility was LOW.
Right before their last song (hallelujah!), the lead singer remarked, "Man, this fog machine has taken a few years off our lives tonight." So what does Mr. Keyboard do? You guessed it:
PRESS. PRESS. PRESS.
