The Twin Cities Music/Crazy Scene

My initial endeavors in re-exploring the Twin Cities have centred around the local music scene. I've already been to several concerts, which I've quite enjoyed. But while most of the bands have been entertaining, their performances pale in comparison with those given by some of the audience members.

Big V's in St. Paul had its share of interesting characters lurking among the stuffed gorilla decor. I went with Jackie to see her friend's band, Guerrilla Blue, play. We were leaning against a sort of counter and chatting when we noticed a short older woman who kept nodding knowingly at us. Occasionally she'd gesture or laugh as if she were trying to work her way into our conversation. When that failed, she took to waving at the captive audio tech manning a tiny sound board next to us.

Another unusual concert-goer made an appearance toward the end of Guerrilla Blue's set. With beer bottle in hand, he strode purposefully up to the edge of the stage. He then leaned over and put his ear directly up to the monitor sitting on the stage in front of the lead singer. This could hardly escape the attention of the singer, and he quipped, "Loud enough for you?" before the group launched into their last song.

As we were leaving, Jackie and I encountered one last member of the strange contingent. A man at the bar made the OK symbol at something when he saw us. I assumed he was making it at me, but he wasn't actually looking at me. He appeared to be focusing on something over my shoulder, so I turned around to see what was capturing his attention. Nothing. When I turned back he made the sign again, keeping his eyes trained on the same imaginary object in the distance. "What?" I asked. Then I noticed the woman who'd tried to cultivate us earlier standing nearby. I took that as an indication that he was her partner in crazy.

The Varsity has also proven to be a venue rich with in-audience entertainment. The first show I attended there after coming home was Mel Gibson and the Pants/Dance Band. Before that show even began, a person standing in front of us began to strip off his clothing. At first it seemed as though he was removing a layer because he was too warm. Then he started pulling off his pants. The outfit revealed when he'd finished peeling away layer after outer layer was a white wife-beater tank paired with orange, floral patterned swim trunks. Granted, the outfit seemed less strange when Dance Band appeared on stage in costume. But none of the Dance Band members stripped, so that bit still lacks justification in my mind.

The most interesting audience member I've had the pleasure to observe attended the Varsity show of a different costumed performer. Inara George, the lead singer of the Bird and the Bee, took the stage dressed in a polka dot dress seemingly sewn out of a pair of bedsheets I used to own. She'd accessorised with frilly bloomers, white tights, white Mary Janes, a white headband, and white gloves with the fingers cut off. The audience member had (knowingly?) borrowed an element from George's stage dress and was sporting red gloves with the fingers cut off. He completed the colour scheme with a red Harry Potter t-shirt and hair dyed a matching shade. He first attracted my attention with the video of the band he was capturing on his digital camera. To increase the artistic merit of his impromptu production, he had taken to rotating his arms and the camera in slow, circular pan/tilt combinations.

When he took a break from his filming, I discovered that he would likely use the recording as a reference for choreographing dance routines later. In addition to accomplishing some slightly spastic upper body swaying, he would occasionally break into highly polished moves that had clearly been painstakingly rehearsed before a mirror. The most stunning example of this was the step he executed each time he heard the lyric "Don't take my picture." He created an imaginary viewfinder with his fingers and jerkily rotated his elbows around as if composing the shot. This culminated with him creating a shutter click by rapidly closing his finger square.

His dance moves weren't the only thing he'd prepared in advance for the concert. The chorus of a song the group performed goes "Again and again and again and again/Do it again, do it again/Again and again." After the song was over, he waited for an acceptable level of silence to emerge as the applause died down. Finally a moment arrived that he felt would sufficiently showcase his cleverness. He seized it and yelled, "Do it again!" clearly chuffed at his wit (prefabricated though it was).

One woman near us seemed oblivious to this extraordinary personage. She was kept busy with a completely different occupation. The person I'd gone to the concert with was was standing over his jacket, which he'd laid on the ground. Inexplicably, the woman came over to us, reached down and felt Joe's jacket. Then she reached up and felt Joe's leg. He looked a little shocked at this minor molestation, and I burst out laughing. She heard me and looked over. Then she turned her palms up and shrugged her shoulders in a classic "Oh well, what can you do?" gesture, which I returned.

What can you do, really, besides attempt to enjoy the crazy as well as the concert.