Concert Anecdote: Seinabo Sey at the Triple Rock Social Club

At 6:50 pm, Raisa and I had completed our long journey to the Triple Rock Social Club. It took walking through underground passageways, misguided directions from Google Maps, and braving the blustery weather. Much to our disappointment, the door was locked. We peered through the dark windows––not a soul in sight.

“Shoot, doors must not open until 7:30.”

“What now…”

“We could hang out in the African grocery store.”

So we spent the next 40 minutes inside of the African grocery store. Strolling around the aisles, we practiced our Arabic by reading just about every packaged and canned food item on the shelves.

“California beans...”

“Cumin… cinnamon––wow, that’s a lot of honey.”

“What does filfil mean?”

“Oh it means pepper––Moroccan sardines!”

“Chicken biryani––nailed it!”

After finishing our Arabic practice session, we loitered amongst the shelves and filled the last twenty minutes with conversation. Finally, around 7:30 we snuck out of the store and walked back to the music venue.

Once we were admitted into the club, we sat on the edge of the stage and conversed for yet another hour. If you really want to know, we talked about cultural differences between the Middle East and East Asia, conflicting viewpoints between the cultures we belong in, white feminism, and boys, among other things.

Around 8:30 the opening act, Gavin James, presented himself. James is an on-the-rise singer songwriter from Dublin. I’ll admit I had no idea who he was––but I was rather impressed when I read that he had toured with Marina & the Diamonds, Ingrid Michaelson, and Lianne La Havas, among others. Not to mention he won the Irish Choice Music Prize Award for ‘Song of the Year’.

But needless to say, I was captivated by him from the beginning. Strumming away at his guitar and crooning, I couldn’t help but think to myself, this would be great if I had a cute guy with me. There was something so honest and sweet in his words and the chords he strummed. I thoroughly enjoyed his performance. For his last song, he played a cover of Ray Charles’ “You Don’t Know Me”––plot twist, he unplugged his guitar, hopped off the stage, and played in the middle of the floor. The intimate nature of it all was just great.

During the intermission, Raisa and I turned to each other.

“That could’ve been so romantic.”

“Yep. I need a boyfriend.”

“A cute guy would’ve been nice––but I get Raisa... I guess it’ll have to do for now.”

“Hah.”

We filled the break with a conversation about slightly bitter singlehood, self-fulfilling prophecies, and rebellious parents.

Before long, the background music turned off, the band took the stage, and Seinabo Sey stepped up to the microphone. She opened up with “Pistols at Dawn”–– a good way to set the tone. Right from the get-go and throughout the whole performance she exuded confidence. There was a mysterious quality about her that really excited me. Maybe it was the way she swayed back and forth, the gestures she made with her hands, or even the way she would raise one eyebrow, smile, and look into the crowd like they have no idea what’s coming at them. Although her stage presence was commanding and powerful, there were moments when she showed her gentle side. Overall, the performance hung onto a delicate balance between suspense and romance.

To briefly sum up Sey’s music, it is a combination of edgy, dark, and mysterious. Following the release of her singles “Younger”, “Hard Time”, and “Pistols at Dawn”, the expertly trained Gambian Swedish singer’s sophisticated and modern sound received much attention across the globe (fun fact: she performed at the 2014 Nobel Peace Prize concert). Her music assumes a complexity similar to that of the human spirit; perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to gravitate towards it. As her collaborator Magnus Lidehäll put it, she’s unique in that she’s believable when she sings. Her music is honest, raw, and although seemingly dark, empowering. There were many great parts to the show, but some of my favorite parts in between the beginning and end were her performances of “Hard Time” and a couple of tracks from the new album (she didn’t really mention their names).

Before wrapping up the show, Sey shared some wise words with the audience: “If you’re one of those lucky people that know what they want in life, please try… There are people who are searching for something.” After all, she’s from a small town in Sweden and here she was halfway across the globe performing, in all places, Minneapolis. It was essentially a carpe diem type of speech, but without the cheesiness. Following her soapbox moment, she concluded with her debut single, “Younger”.

In conclusion, attending the Seinabo Sey show was one of the best ways to spend a Thursday night. Definitely worth the ten bucks (I almost felt like I was paying too little to see her). It was pretty miserable getting back to my dorm, but totally worth it. Oh, and I might have ripped a concert poster off a window and taken it back with me.

Concert Anecdote: Generationals

After months of not seeing the radness that is Joel Kimball, we reunited over a Generationals concert at the 7th St. Entry. To quickly summarize the pre-concert activities, we hung out at the Book House in Dinkytown, went over to Espresso Royale, then got dinner at Annie’s. After stuffing our faces with delicious burgers, an Oreo malt, and a so-called half serving of fries, we embarked on a ten block journey to the parking ramp in which he parked his car (the nearby ramps were filled as a result of the NFL football game that day). Once we finally got to his car, we blasted music in his cozy butt-warming-capable car, and drove off to Downtown. We got to the 7th St. Entry and waited outside patiently, only to get turned away as a result of my forgetting to bring my ID (somehow I managed to grab my school ID). And so we drove back to my dorm, where I quickly grabbed my ID, and came back.

Since it was my first time at the 7th St. Entry, I was amazed at how tiny and intimate the setting was. I had never been to a concert where I was close enough to the band to give them a high five or handshake, and to me, that was mindblowing. And amazingly enough, we managed to grab front row spots. The opening act (Springtime Carnivore) was awesome, and the main act was (obviously) awesome. One of my favorite parts of the night was when the equipment had a slight malfunction and the performance was abruptly halted. As 7th St. Entry staff and the band worked on fixing the malfunction, one of the Generationals dudes (Ted Joyner) took matters into his own hands and entertained the crowd with a conversation that turned into a stand up comedy routine. The guy’s hilarious by the way. Once the malfunction was corrected, the rest of the concert went on smoothly. The remainder of the night was filled with upbeat, feel-good tunes and an overall awesome vibe. I was also excited that they played songs from past albums, as well as their most recent one. Needless to say, Joel and I left the concert very satisfied with our excursion.

Concert Anecdote: Foxygen

Let’s just say it was the craziest concert I have experienced thus far in my short life. Most of the time I was convinced that the night would end in the lead singer a) breaking a leg, b) choking himself to death with the microphone cord, c) acquiring a concussion, or d) all of the above, especially with what happened at their Minneapolis gig last year. But thank goodness that didn’t happen. Anyway, it was great. Especially the part where he shoved a microphone down his pants and started erm, gyrating his hips, revealing a lack of underwear (just kidding that was weird, but then again Karen O did it).

Concert Anecdotes: Kina Grannis

 

Wednesday night was a blissful blur.

It all started in the early evening when I found Maddy, floundering around the East Bank, toting around a chunky electric blue sleeping bag and backpack (we had agreed to meet at the West Bank Station but then the circulator screwed me over by arriving earlier than expected and so we just decided to walk in each other's general direction and hope that it would work). We walked back to my room and I excitedly introduced her to my 9th floor cohort. After a delicious dining hall meal, we got ready and headed off to Varsity.

Following a reckless game of Follow the Leader, nearly getting run over by dozens of cars, and narrowly escaping our deaths, we found ourselves in line in front of the theater. We had originally planned on making a Chatime run, but the dozen or so people in line convinced us to hop on in. 

To quickly summarize our concert line experience, Maddy and I briefly FaceTimed Dalena, Dan and Joyce were being Dan and Joyce, and the ID checker dude mistook Dan for a 21+ year-old (no worries, she didn't raid the bar). And yes, Dan is a girl.

Once we got inside, I ran for the front row to get us a comfy spot. Due to the inconvenient nature of my height, I have to either snag a front row spot or find a seat, otherwise suffer via hours of standing on my tippy toes. We waited and waited, took selfies, conversed with a pair of high school girls with VIP passes (one of which referred to herself as a "fetus" a little too much for comfort), and shared college life anecdotes. 

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Finally, the background music turned off and the opening act showed up. Twas Imaginary Future—the heavily bearded guitar-strumming guy with the dreamy voice (Maddy says his beard glistens under the light). He quickly won over the crowd's hearts with his soothing acoustic love tunes, the kind that makes you a) think lovey dovey thoughts or b) bitterly question why you're single. Needless to say, that kind of stuff really pulls at your heart strings. One of my favorite parts was when he pulled out a dreamy rendition of Fly Me to the Moon, which, if you don't know, is one of my favorite songs. Some other favorites of mine include April and Fire Escape, both of which would fit perfectly in a romantic comedy. All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed being gently smothered by Imaginary Future's achy love songs. 

After the opening act was done, the crowd was restless. Now they were really ready for some Kina lovin'. 

And so when Kina came on, they went wild. 

How do I even begin to describe her performance? After all, me, Dan, and Joyce listened to her album three times over one night just to make sure we were prepared for it.

Well, it was excellent. Let me begin by asking, are people even allowed to be as drop dead gorgeous as her? Not fair. But anyway, she opened with Dear River, and it just went uphill from there. The rest of the concert was filled with beautiful Kina-crooning, interesting anecdotes, fan karaoke, and head bobbing. I was particularly excited when The Fire, Winter, Sweater Weather (I voted on that one), and My Dear played. The most intense moment of the night though, was when she explained the back story of the song Forever Blue. I could feel myself choking on tears and wanting to give her a big hug. 

In conclusion, it was a great show. I really enjoyed the intimate, up-close-and-personal nature of the concert. Both acts, opening and main, were spectacular, and of course everyone thought it was cute because y'know, they're married (they never did mention it though). The ambiance was on point, the back up band was awesome, and the performance was kickass. I get cozy feelings just thinking about it right now. 

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And to quickly inform you all of what we did after the concert, we stopped by Insomnia Cookies and headed back to our living quarters. Later that night Maddy and I had a crazy two-person dance party (awesome Snapchats included) and casually analyzed a 1950s Colonial-era flick on TCM at 2 in the morning (we deduced that it was a terrible movie). It was a good night.

Concert Anecdotes: Perfume Genius

We casually bumped into Mike Hadreas behind Triple Rock. The result? A beautiful group picture. 

[Note: Rachelle’s name is actually pronounced like Rachel. Just so you pronounce it in your head correctly.]

Yesterday at around 6pm, Jason and I headed to Centennial to drop off his stuff and then to the Tofu House. We were roughly an hour late. Once we got there, we found Mitchell and Rachelle conversing at a table by the window. We were mildly and jokingly scolded, but then I rushed to Rachelle’s side and gave her a bear hug (it was my first time seeing her in months). While Mitchell and Rachelle were slowly recovering from their feast, Jason and I ate our tofu bowls with steamed rice. We had a nice talk about college living, friends back home, and adulthood. It’s funny how I always forget the six-year age gap between us.

After we finished our meal, we walked to Rachelle’s car and headed to Triple Rock Social Club. It took some getting through lousy bikers and awful pedestrians, with Mitchell sticking his head out of the window and door to scream at them, but after a ten minute car ride, we had arrived at our destination. As it turned out, we were super early and therefore were (pretty much) the only ones in the room for an hour or so. On the bright side, we got some great seats (and waited in them for another hour and a half). 

To kill time, we talked about Jason’s malpracticing orthodontist that accidentally removed an extra tooth and totally denied it (Mitchell, being a dentistry student and aspiring orthodontist himself, was very interested and enraged by the anecdote), more adultly things like loans and paying the rent, horror electrocution stories, and Chinese philosophy. I even carefully crafted two paper cranes. And at one point, Mitchell and Rachelle were reading the broken English-filled text messages my mom sent me in the last week. 

After a long wait, the opening act finally showed up. Her name was Matteah Baim, and she brought along a bearded guy with glasses in a rather comfy looking black cotton dress. It was pretty interesting stuff. The instrumentals were pretty nice and relaxing. They were pretty bleak. But cool, I guess.

Once Matteah Baim was finished, the music came back on the speakers and the club was bustling with conversation once again. It would be another fifteen minutes before the main act would arrive. The club began to fill up at a more rapid pace. The floor began to flood and a few rows of people stood behind us. Jason and I rambled to one another about life once more, and before we knew it, Perfume Genius had arrived.

“Shoot, I had like two more sentences left,” I whispered.

Jason crouched over and leaned his left ear toward me.

Discomforted by the sudden pressure to complete my thought in a timely and satisfying manner, I paused.

“Nevermind, I’ll tell you later!” I whispered.

“Okay, remember to tell me!” he whispered back.

[I never did actually remember to tell him.]

The next hour or so was filled with aching vocals, powerful screams, impressive falsetto, and piano-heavy love songs. I could feel myself sinking into my chair and wanting to hug the man (Mike Hadreas), especially when he sang Take Me Home and Mr. Peterson. Another one of my favorite performances was the one of Floating Spit. Pretty soothing, in my opinion. Overall, I enjoyed myself. But if you thought I was having fun, you should’ve seen Mitchell and Rachelle. They were constantly recording, taking video Snapchats, predicting the next songs, and squealing in their seats. I could hear Mitchell next to me:

“Oh my gahhhd, he is so cool.”

“Ahh I love this song!”

“Oh my gosh I think he’s gonna play this song, and it’s gonna be so great.”

“Isn’t this beautiful?”

“This is so good.”

“He is amazing.”

Once the concert ended, people started filing out the door. Mitchell went first, Rachelle and I followed, then Jason. I didn’t realize just how crowded it was until I found myself in a human traffic jam. When we finally got out of the venue, we found Mitchell standing by the door. Our group assembled and headed to the car. But beforehand, Mitchell grabbed the concert poster taped to the glass door.Turns out Mitchell is a mild concert kleptomaniac. We briskly walked to the Jeep and jumped inside. Just as Rachelle was about to start the car, we noticed something.

“Oh my God, is that him?”

Standing outside the back door was a man in a black jacket, rather familiar looking, puffing on a cigarette alongside another guy.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Do you have a Sharpie?”

“No, but I have a pen.”

“You guys, let’s get a selfie!”

“Noo, I’m too scared! I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“No you won’t.”

“I’ll do it for ya.”

“No, don’t do that.”

Rachelle and I got out of the car and headed towards the genius that is Mike Hadreas.

“Hey, great job tonight! My friend is a really huge fan, and I was wondering if you could sign this for him,” said Rachelle. 

Finishing his puff, Mike looked up at us and smiled, his cigarette casually placed between his fingers.

“Sure. What’s his name?”

“Mitch,” we replied in unison.

He put the poster up against the wall and tried writing on it, but to no avail.

“Oh shoot, is the pen not working?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go grab a Sharpie.” How awesome is it that he went out of his way to grab us a Sharpie? So cool.

He promptly returned with his Sharpie and signed the poster.

“Did you want a picture, Brenda?” asked Rachelle.

I nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course!”

“--Wait, we need to grab Mitchell! Can we grab our friend quick?”

Mike nodded.

As Rachelle ran back to the car, Mike turned to me. “Oh, he’s here? I thought he was sick or something. Why didn’t he just come with you?”

“He’s just scared. He absolutely loves you. You know he stole that concert poster off the door for you? And during the show he kept turning to me and gushing about how cool you are” I answered. 

Mike nodded his head, as if he truly understood just how much Mitchell adored him.

Mitchell and Jason got out of the car and came over. After brief introductions, we lined up for the picture, me awkwardly standing in the front because I was so short and couldn’t squeeze in from the side. 

“It’s okay, that was like me in every single high school picture,” joked Mike. 

Our photographer, the cool dude playing with Matteah Baim, snapped a few pictures before handing the phone back to Rachelle. With much jubilee, we thanked Mike and black cotton dress dude and headed back to the car. 

As we drove along, we gushed.

“That was so cool.”

“He probably thought we were being weird. Those girls were being all cool and came in with their cigarettes like ‘Oh we tried to cover you once, but it did no justice.’ Nope. I was just like ‘Homghomg I love you.”

“I had no idea he was wearing lipstick this whole time.”

“He stepped on my toe. It was soo cool.”

“He was definitely wearing nail polish.”

“Oh my God that was so exciting. We’re going to get married.”

Needless to say, it was a great night.