First it was Fleet Foxes, now it's Joe Pug. Another workweek down, another missed opportunity had. It doesn't happen often, but every now and then being the copywriter at my job requires that I stick around when large proposals come swinging through the door last minute. I accept the responsibility and welcome the opportunity to show my worth. Even the 8 a.m. to 1 a.m. workday I can handle. There's usually giddy laughter, Chinese food and coffee runs--all of the above I can do. At the same time, these proposals no doubt, tend to come around when a band I'm interested to see perform comes around, too.
This week: Justin Towns Earle with Joe Pug. The former I'm not so crazy about, but the latter has been on my queue. Missing the chance to see him live, means missing the chance to really get to know him. There's nothing like filtering into a dark bar, a glass of whatever's on tap in your glass, and a cozy footing next to that guy you don't know and some chic he knows; you never get to know names, just recognize faces. And then the band takes the stage--it's no larger than the full-size bed you'll crash in later that night. The music starts, feet start tapping, hips start swaying. Those who know the words, sing; those who know some, mumble; while the one's with virgin ears stare--dry-eyed and buzzed they've reached a slice of personal euphoria. All of them, the dedicated follower, the almost fan and the new kid on the block, they've all gotten to know him, her, them, whomever is performing: they now know something the rest of us don't.
That's what I missed. But I've got others coming to town that will get me there in due time. For now, a glass of wine and computer-caged tunes will get me close, but hardly touching what could have been.
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