In bars & basements.

Back to the old Junkie "What I Did This Weekend" tradition: a lazy Sunday on which I recap the weekend's events; which I am doing at the moment because I woke up with 1) pink eye 2) a cold 3) a hyper-extended knee and 4) a hangover, and all I can do is write.

But anyway, thanks to a couple of great shows, the past couple days have been considerably less excruciating than this morning.

This Friday night started out just like most others: a capped pint of R&R and a giant styrofoam cup of Dr. Pepper ready to go, hanging out with my friends deliberating about what to do. Someone had heard that Pan was playing a house show on Village (a mere two streets away-- a valuable consideration to be made on a freezing-cold night) and more for "eye candy reasons" than "musical reasons," my troupe and I huddled together in a massive rage-train and hoofed it over to Village Street. My friend Rachel (the designated Motivator and thus, an invaluable Fest Friend) and I are all business in these kind of situations and, knowing only the street and not the actual house address, navigated on intuition alone, but somehow found the place without a hitch, and by the time the first inevitable "Where are we?" emanated from the hot mess that is my group of friends after dark, we were standing inside an awkward house full of hipsters who none of us knew.

Strangely (and somehow, not so) we soon found ourselves bonding over the house's guinea pig (who bore a strange resemblance to a panda) with said strange (i.e. unfamiliar) hipsters and it was only a matter of time before the first band Drawing Mountains began to jam. After the band's request for support in the form of money/ sexual favors they slipped timidly into their first song, leading into a slow-burner of a set that not only held my attention (a more incredible feat than you know) but put me in a kind of trance, a kind of strange and contemplative mood; I was snapped back momentarily when one of my friends tapped me on the shoulder and motioned that they were going upstairs. I stayed and spaced out to Drawing Mountains' set alone, incredibly refreshed by something I haven't heard in a really long time: genuinely good live indie rock. I've found myself going to a lot of electronic music shows lately and I don't know why. It's really the only kind of live show I've been attending (that isn't a jam band, obvs)and I've been kind of startled by that fact when I look at it. But I think the thing is that electro shows are exciting. They're more like parties than shows-- you don't go see a dubstep DJ spin to learn anything new about music or to have a musical experience, necessarily; it's more about having fun. Because a lot of really good bands lack that element in their live show: excitement. Being smart and technical about the music itself can really suck the fun and spontaneity out of a live show, and it's amazing when a band can be a good band and also play a great show that doesn't have you checking your watch before the end of the set. It shouldn't be such a rare thing.

Oh, yeah, and their gear was amazing. I've never seen anyone play a Gibson SG through an Orange rig in a basement in the student ghetto.

But anyway. Being in that basement at that show was a good thing. It felt really good, kinda like this time last year when there were basement shows every weekend and I was always there with whiskey drinks and stubbed toes (ah, nostalgia!). And something about Drawing Mountains' set, in that dark basement full of (very hip) strangers, sent me down a crazy rabbit hole of memories and thoughts that made me extremely happy and grateful to be young and alive (and no, unlike most of the show's patrons, I was not drunk, thanks to a spilling mishap). Which, to me, is the essence of a good show: when you can completely love a show even if-- especially if-- you're sober, alone, and have never heard the music before.

By the time the set was over and I returned to the real world, where my friends were bundling up to traipse to the next party, I felt like I had taken what Drama from Fantasy Factory would call a "life shower"-- equivalent to a nap, cuddling, a workout, or meditation. (And we didn't even stay to see Pan. The fuck?) Making a ridiculous scene, rolling deep and singing Aloe Blacc's "I Need a Dollar" at the top of our lungs as we walked, we ended up at some anonymous house and, in the end, the night culminated in a dance party the likes of which you've never seen. But that's just how we roll.

The following night was a little more legit and, in certain ways, considerably more memorable. Once again I found myself solo at a show: this time, at the Strutt, checking out one of my favorite bands: The Hold Steady. As you can imagine, the room was PACKED (sold out, in fact) with a surprisingly diverse crowd, mostly 20somethings and a handful of mom-and-dad-aged couples. I missed most of the opening band, and in fact am not entirely sure what their name was. But THS's set was amazing, everything I had hoped it would be (though I checked them out at Rothbury in '09, I have never actually seen them in their element: a bar) and more.

It was so good, in fact, and such a sweaty disaster of a situation, that I woke up this morning with a fairly serious eye infection. As aforementioned.

But I learned a really great tip about catching a sold-out, standing-room show, one I never, ever thought would be a good idea: wear heels. Ladies-- perhaps you already knew this, but I'm a Converse or moccasins kind of gal-- a pair of heeled (and preferably badass, as to not get your toes smashed) boots give you an amazing advantage in a male-dominated audience. I stand about 5'8 barefoot, so with a few inches of help, I push 6 feet tall and have the best proverbial seat in standing room, where ever I am. Which is gnarly for a show like the Hold Steady.

Smashing through a set that incorporated ALL of their albums (which I love!)-- rather than just pimping their most recent release, "Heaven is Whenever"-- The Hold Steady threw down their amazingly E-Streety jams and had the Strutt a bigger shitshow than I have literally ever seen it. Craig Finn's delightfully geeky stage presence made me smile and I met a lot of really cool people-- and even had a drank with WMN! staffer/ local celeb Joe Fearnley.

So I guess you could say it was a really incredible weekend. Between the shows and friends and fun, and the ultimate "Me Time" that is spacing out to shows by myself, the total misery of today is 110% worth it.