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A Few Thoughts On Pop Music, Aging and Hot Monkeys
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post #9
bio: collin
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7/28/2003
15:20

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Favorite Things
drinking
· Diet Coke - incessantly
eating
· One word: Hamdogs
listening
· NPR - Constantly
reading
· The Golden Compass
I just returned from an in-store appearance by Supergrass at the Newbury Comics near my office. For those of you unfamiliar with their work, they write fabulous 70s- tinged super catchy rock songs. Think David Bowie meets the Kinks, perhaps. As I was standing by myself in the store amongst the incredibly geeky uber-fans who inevitably show up to these things, I began to feel really uncomfortable. Granted, this is relatively normal for me, but I felt there was an actual reason in this instance, and oddly, it was not the super tall guy with man-boobs and a hairy back who was standing in front of me. What was I doing here? I hadn't just wandered in with my friends like the people in the back. I wasn't here stalking the band and then rushing home to post a gushing entry in the Supergrass chat room like the girls in front of me. I just like their music and wanted to hear them play, yet I felt like I was way too old to be there. Not that I was by any means the oldest person there, but what is a person in their 30s doing standing around waiting for a band to show up and do an acoustic set in a record store? I should be at lunch with a bunch of my "galpals" talking about babies and whether to invest in stocks or bonds, right? That's what people my age do, right? Why does that fascinate people of my age so much and why am I so uninterested in that stuff?
But then again, It's not like I can do what I would do when I was in my 20s. Back then, my girlfriends and I would have either been right up front, mooning over Gaz even though he looks oddly like a monkey, or in back shmoozing the road crew and obtaining free passes to that night's show. Once there we would get roaring drunk and end up at whatever afterparty the band was going to, one of us possibly ending up making out with the drummer because we were still too nervous to talk to Gaz. Now that's a good time. But I can't do that in my 30s; that's just pathetic. Nor do I want to.
So what do I do now? Stand around and feel uncomfortable, I guess. Woo


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