Cut Copy, taken by Amy

Last Saturday (only a week ago, really?) I went to Studio B to see Cut Copy with Amy, Jess, and Alex. It was my first “real” concert in…a long time. Strange to think that in high school I had the stamina to go to a concert, say, more than once every two months, but now I kind of loathe the thought of staying out until my contacts adhere themselves to my eyeballs and potentially having to go to work the next day. (I’m going to see Caribou this Friday though. Excitement! Wee!)

The main reason I went to see Cut Copy, besides that I like their music, was because Amy asked me to. Alex was a last minute add-on when he said, “OHAI, I’m coming down from Vassar for the weekend just because!” He didn’t have a ticket, but all we had to do was wait outside in a line moving at the speed of a disabled sloth before he was allowed entrance. Our wait was enhanced by shivering fun!—neither of us had brought jackets so we could avoid checking them in. This was the first time I actually left everything at home (“home” being Tristan’s not-too-far-away apartment) aside from a few necessities I could cram into Alex’s pockets. After waiting forever to check my bag in the last time I went to Studio B, I didn’t want to relive the horror.

This also mean I couldn’t lug my dSLR with me, but sometimes it’s okay not to take photos. I guess. Also, Amy took plenty.

Cut Copy, taken by Amy

So…the concert. I’ve become increasingly horrible at being able to describe these things. Most of the songs they played appeared to be from their first album, Bright Like Neon Love, which worked for me because I hadn’t listened to their newest one, In Ghost Colours. I think I…danced. Just a tad. It’s a rare thing, to see me dancing because I’m too self-conscious and feel like an mal-coordinated idiot when I move in ways beyond walking/running/etc. The band was into it, and the screaming fans led me to believe that the crowd was too.

The only low points of the concert were 1) standing next to or behind super-tall people/hipsters when I am barely over 5 feet tall, but i guess it’s my fault for having crappy genes ill-adapted for going to concerts, 2) standing next to people who wouldn’t stop making out (when people are shouting at you to “get a room,” you know it’s not good), 3) when at least one girl attempted to crowd surf and failed, 4) when this one guy wouldn’t stop hitting on Amy even though she was obviously not interested, although not obvious enough for this guy because her personality does not include “acting like a bitch.” Dear people of the male persuasion: do not talk try to a girl WHILE THE CONCERT IS GOING ON, IT’S KIND OF AWKWARD.

Otherwise, good times were had.