A Romanian friend of mine tells me that according to an old Romanian superstition, you are supposed to make a wish every time you do something that you've never done before. Last weekend I got to make one of these wishes because for the first time in my life, I went to a concert __sans personne.__ I figured that I had been to enough concerts with friends and have usually ended up being more disappointed in their lack of enthusiasm than grateful for their company. So I decided that this time I wouldn't bother inviting anyone else. I had to see The Kills and everything had to be perfect. I didn't want to risk inviting anyone else who would spoil it somehow. So after I get off work on Saturday I get all gussied up and embark on my independent mission to Slim's in San Francisco. I give myself 2 hours since according to my directions it only takes an hour and 30 minutes to get there from where I am. I inevitably get turned around a few times and decide to give up the guide and instead trust the compass of my intuition. Sort of a bad idea. I end up going the right direction, but taking what feels like the longest route possible. Luckily, it is the perfect time of night for speeding. There are only a few cars on the road (which hastily make way for me) and not a single CHP in sight. I manage to keep my trusty Subaru going at about 100 mph for a while (another new experience) and finally make it to the outer limits of San Francisco within the allotted time period. I begin to breathe easy until I realize that my printed out directions are completely useless now, since I have taken a different route than the one recommended. Of course I do not remember at this time that I have about 7 maps of San Francisco sitting in the car door pocket less than three inches away from my left knee. After driving in aimless, semi-panicked circles for about half an hour - meanwhile thinking about nothing except that San Francisco has way too many one way streets and is seriously lacking in its public restroom facilities, as I desperately need to relieve myself - I finally pull over when I see a decent looking woman (i.e. not homeless or insane) walking down the hill on my right side. She looks like she is from around here. She's holding a paper cup of what is presumably soup. I'm sure she will help me. Sure enough, the soup woman is very kind and willing to give me accurate and concise directions. Luckily, I am not far off from the mark. In five minutes I hit my desired destination. I park in a lot that charges $10 and has about four cars in it which makes me somewhat suspicious but I don't have time to waste. I run across the street to Slim's. I stand in line and chat up some radio show guy who assures me that I'm not late for the show. I get stamped and stand in another line which leads me to a marvelously sanitary toilet. The Kills are still not on yet, so I make my way to the merchandise stand where I buy the very last "No Wow" T-shirt. It's in my size! Luck is on my side tonight. After 45 minutes of standing around, tapping my foot to a recording of Radiohead's "In Rainbows," and staring at the chic haircuts and tattoos of the hipsters surrounding me, (one guy has the same tattoo as Bjork - I immediately take a liking to him), the band finally comes on. They are everything that I expected and nothing short of spectacular. I want to dance! I want to jump up and down and scream! But alas, most of the hipsters around me seem to have tragically frozen in place after standing around trying to look cool for so long. So I spot the few people who are still alive and dancing in the center of the crowd and I make my way over there, surely to the annoyance of my zombie peers who do not want to budge from the rigid 2-foot spaces they have provided themselves. I don't care. I imagine them rolling their eyes at each other and pretending to jab the back of my skull with tiny invisible daggers and I just smile. I smile and dance behind the two or three others who are dancing and try to forget about everyone else because I go to concerts with every intention of __getting down.__Nothing matters but the two gorgeous rock stars up there on the stage putting all their passion and rage out there for everyone to taste. Nothing matters but everything that we feel when that music is pulsing through our hearts and veins like heroin. So immobile hipsters, if you're not gonna get down, get back. And now, the NEW video for "Last Day of Magic" - watch Allison and Jamie beat the shit out of each other! Raw! Fierce! Photos by yours truly.
Charley Rogulewski says
My love for the Kills is intense. I too saw them alone when i saw them the first time. It was Chicago 2003 and, bummer, i stood next to Jack White for the set. As for Midniight Boom -- last week i drove from Providence, RI to Montreal, QC (about a 6hr haul) and for about 3 hours of the ride i listened to the entire album nonstop, with track 5 "Last Day of Magic" getting more pay than the rest. It is def. a favorite album of mine.
lilja88 says
Thanks guys, glad you all appreciate the glory and wonder of The Kills as much as I do.
Charley, I am jealous that you got to stand next to Jack White and got to see the Kills in Montreal, one of my favorite cities! I also have "Midnight Boom" on repeat in my car.
Dale, VV is delectably devastating, to say the least...
Oatmeal, I guess with all this talk of "Getting Down" I should have made this the main track for the post:
Bartleby says
I guess I too am allowed to a wish since I believe it's first time I read a concert narrative by you ;)
You've got a nimble quill for catching the details of what now seems to be the standard concert goer: all observance, no dance. Which is really funny because if there ever was a band to whose music you can really bust a groove, The Kills would be it.
Re the clip, who would you bet on? W or Hotel?
PS: In France, there's another superstition whereby you're supposed to make a wish whenever you do/see/eat or -- insert action verb here -- in the year.
Augusts1 says
I SO wanted to go to this but by the time I found out they were in SF tickets were sold out. Glad to hear they were amazing. Thanks for the review. They are playing in Sept. for the Treasure Island Festival but they are the only ones I'd want to see on the day they are playing so I doubt I'll go. Oh well.
A Romanian friend of mine tells me that according to an old Romanian superstition, you are supposed to make a wish every time you do something that you've never done before. Last weekend I got to make one of these wishes because for the first time in my life, I went to a concert __sans personne.__ I figured that I had been to enough concerts with friends and have usually ended up being more disappointed in their lack of enthusiasm than grateful for their company. So I decided that this time I wouldn't bother inviting anyone else. I had to see The Kills and everything had to be perfect. I didn't want to risk inviting anyone else who would spoil it somehow. So after I get off work on Saturday I get all gussied up and embark on my independent mission to Slim's in San Francisco. I give myself 2 hours since according to my directions it only takes an hour and 30 minutes to get there from where I am. I inevitably get turned around a few times and decide to give up the guide and instead trust the compass of my intuition. Sort of a bad idea. I end up going the right direction, but taking what feels like the longest route possible. Luckily, it is the perfect time of night for speeding. There are only a few cars on the road (which hastily make way for me) and not a single CHP in sight. I manage to keep my trusty Subaru going at about 100 mph for a while (another new experience) and finally make it to the outer limits of San Francisco within the allotted time period. I begin to breathe easy until I realize that my printed out directions are completely useless now, since I have taken a different route than the one recommended. Of course I do not remember at this time that I have about 7 maps of San Francisco sitting in the car door pocket less than three inches away from my left knee. After driving in aimless, semi-panicked circles for about half an hour - meanwhile thinking about nothing except that San Francisco has way too many one way streets and is seriously lacking in its public restroom facilities, as I desperately need to relieve myself - I finally pull over when I see a decent looking woman (i.e. not homeless or insane) walking down the hill on my right side. She looks like she is from around here. She's holding a paper cup of what is presumably soup. I'm sure she will help me. Sure enough, the soup woman is very kind and willing to give me accurate and concise directions. Luckily, I am not far off from the mark. In five minutes I hit my desired destination. I park in a lot that charges $10 and has about four cars in it which makes me somewhat suspicious but I don't have time to waste. I run across the street to Slim's. I stand in line and chat up some radio show guy who assures me that I'm not late for the show. I get stamped and stand in another line which leads me to a marvelously sanitary toilet. The Kills are still not on yet, so I make my way to the merchandise stand where I buy the very last "No Wow" T-shirt. It's in my size! Luck is on my side tonight. After 45 minutes of standing around, tapping my foot to a recording of Radiohead's "In Rainbows," and staring at the chic haircuts and tattoos of the hipsters surrounding me, (one guy has the same tattoo as Bjork - I immediately take a liking to him), the band finally comes on. They are everything that I expected and nothing short of spectacular. I want to dance! I want to jump up and down and scream! But alas, most of the hipsters around me seem to have tragically frozen in place after standing around trying to look cool for so long. So I spot the few people who are still alive and dancing in the center of the crowd and I make my way over there, surely to the annoyance of my zombie peers who do not want to budge from the rigid 2-foot spaces they have provided themselves. I don't care. I imagine them rolling their eyes at each other and pretending to jab the back of my skull with tiny invisible daggers and I just smile. I smile and dance behind the two or three others who are dancing and try to forget about everyone else because I go to concerts with every intention of __getting down.__Nothing matters but the two gorgeous rock stars up there on the stage putting all their passion and rage out there for everyone to taste. Nothing matters but everything that we feel when that music is pulsing through our hearts and veins like heroin. So immobile hipsters, if you're not gonna get down, get back. And now, the NEW video for "Last Day of Magic" - watch Allison and Jamie beat the shit out of each other! Raw! Fierce! Photos by yours truly. 
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