Soundtracked

Are We Really Happy With Who We Are Right Now?

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This week's theme: The Precious Few

Ok...now seems like as good a time as any to take a little break from the overemotional stuff because I don't wanna get to weighed down by everyone's sadness (and props to those of you who have tried to balance us Weeping Willies out with songs that make you smile or relax...you've been a big help, especially after reading our first wave of sad songs ). So yeah, let's go a little more in an upbeat direction today, shall we?

And these are some of the sweetest Canadian dudes you'll ever meet. I've probably shared the story and this song a bunch of times (maybe not for Soundtrackers, but definitely in general before), so one more time isn't gonna hurt. But before I do that, here's some background...

In the early 2000's, I was spending the night at DMFM's dad's house. His family was out of town, so he was house-sitting and I somehow coincidentally ended up with the weekend off. And no one throws a 2-man house party like me and Dave.

I remember this night because we went overboard purchasing alcohol, my roommate showed up semi-uninvited and tried to kill our buzz (although it's the first time I ever heard Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot   and thought it was amazing), we somehow trashed the kitchen, the living room, and the upstairs computer room, and he played for me Moneen's The Theory Of Harmonial Value  ...an incredible Emo-pop jaunt that gets a little comically scientific at the end but it's still fun.

That whole weekend was a mess...one of the funnest messes ever though. I don't know why we bought so much beer for just the two of us on a Friday night, but it was ridiculous. One of those $15 mini fridge kegs of Warsteiner, a couple 22oz. "oil cans" of Fosters, and probably at least a six-pack each of Heineken and Red Stripe. I'm guessing Miller High Life was in there somewhere as well, because we seemed to have an affinity for 30-packs when we would get together like that. And somehow one of the Fosters cans ended up in the freezer, opened minus one sip, because Dave thought it wasn't cold enough...and forgot about it until the next morning. Don't do that. It's the worst non-bodily fluid mess you might ever have to clean up (and it's entirely wasteful).

And lord knows why that Saturday afternoon we ended up at a liquor store with a married-couple friends of ours, because it was a beautiful day for a cookout, and that would've involved copious bottles of wine (for the wife), Grey Goose (for the husband), and Southern Comfort for Dave and myself. Ya know...stuff that pairs well with 20-somethings that have money to burn and steak. Good times, until a clearly overserved DMFM knocked over his glass of SoCo, emptying its contents all over my brand new Motorola V-60   with the neat little plug-in speakerphone thingy (and the phone was super-expensive and hard to find, but I had won one as part of a sales contest when I was the Advantage Co.'s Cellular Department Manager). This spillage incident caused Dave to simultaneously panic while cleaning and rue his clumsiness (he was always knockin' shit over), and Habby and Veronica took it as a sign of the night ending horribly so they split (which was not the case, but whatever). We got things cleaned up, I took apart the phone and aired it out overnight, Dave passed out, and I watched MTV until I fell asleep as well. The phone ended up working great, although every time I tried texting you could hear the keypad stick from the SoCo, and sometimes when I used it too long or kept it plugged in awhile, it would smell like a whiskey-scented candle was burning (kind of a pleasant aroma, actually ).

Glad you read all of that...because it's not really related to the rest of the story at all.

Dave and our boy Adam had seen Moneen a few times at that point. Like most up-and-coming Canadian bands, they can hit the Buffalo area a couple times a year. Small club shows mostly, although they did travel out to Rochester to see them play an acoustic show at a coffeehouse. I was always invited to come along, but I'd never really heard them before and something always came up (likely excuse ). But now that I'd had the chance to listen to them, there was no getting out of it...the next time they were in town, I had no choice but to attend.

And so the new album (Are We Really Happy With Who We Are Right Now?  ) comes out...and there's no Buffalo stop on their tours. We get all the compilation cds they're on, we stalk them online waiting for new videos and stuff...and nothin'. Another album, The Red Tree  , is released. Same thing...buying stickers and random cds, waiting out website relaunches; we were determined to see them. We knew what they were doing before the band knew. Crazy psychotic fandom, ladies and gents. Over a dinky little Canadian Emo-punk band that would at best have the second slot and maybe a half-hour's worth of time on a major label band's 4-up show. We would've taken it at that point.

But our patience and perseverance paid off...they finally came back to The B-Lo for a tiny club gig as the headliner (at the same place, if I'm not mistaken, the TBS "Timberwolves At New Jersey"  show happened). I believe this is how it went down: Dave got dropped off at 542 by his pre-fiance girlfriend, and offered to pay for a couple beers if I drove. No problem...I can be responsible. I bought a t-shirt and a live EP/DVD. Dave...got all sortsa hammered and bought a couple shirts, two hoodies, all the beers, a few cds, more stickers and pins, more beers, and then we split a vinyl copy of The Red Tree that we agreed to share joint custody of because I had a turntable and he didn't. Dude could barely carry all the shit he bought...he was trying to wear all the shirts, plus a hoodie, plus what he was already wearing, with another hoodie tied around his waist, in a small, sweaty club in the middle of May. While I tried to jam everything else in the pockets of my cargo shorts. It was god damn trip.

So we're standing by the soundboard and we see a tiny little guy in an overcoat of some kind with a beanie on, and we realize it's Kenny, Moneen's lead singer...and he's runnin' the board for one of the opening bands. But because we were little pussies, we didn't wanna say hi or bug him, even though he was ten feet away from us and knew we were staring at him and whispering like we were little teenage girls fawning over our indie ginger Bieber.

Eventually, Moneen comes on and just shreds everything. Their live show is 100% what you see them doing in all their videos. Jumping, bouncing around, backflips and mic swings and hair flying everywhere. It's exhausting just watching. They're truly having fun and you can tell; they don't care if they're opening for Jimmy Eat World or Weezer in front of 12,000 in Toronto, or headlining a stank-nasty club in Buffalo for less than 200 drunk broskis.

And I'd say the coolest part of the show was right after the last song, when Kenny yelled "GROUP HUG!!" and they jumped off stage into the crowd...and instead of bumrushing the band, everyone just sorta gently huddled into- no shit- a giant group hug. Possibly the least and most rock 'n' roll thing I've ever seen happen at the same time, and I've seen a lot of concerts. But no, that wasn't the coolest part. A few minutes after that, we saw Kenny just millin' around off to the side of the stage, so we went over and chatted him up for awhile...and he was so cool about Dave's request to autograph our copy of The Red Tree.

But that's not all! Kenny then pulled out the guitarist, Hippy Chris (that's how he's credited on the albums, because of his dreds...no joke!), from backstage and we were talking to him for a few minutes...and then I realized I had one of those new Motorola Razr phones with a camera, and Hippy was supersweet about having his pic taken with Dave (who may have been salivating by this point). I wish I still had a copy of that...it was grainy as fuck but it didn't matter; Dave met a "rock star" (really/not really) and got an autograph and his picture taken and it was the best show ever!! Woo hoo!!

And I knew what was coming right after that.

As soon as we got in the car, Dave did some quick math in his head. He probably spent over $200 on tickets, beverages, and merch. He was drunk and covered in sweat, cotton, and adhesives. The perils of a good time. He would not be able to face his girlfriend like this. He would be spending another night on my couch at 542...practically his second home. He didn't even have to call her right away, nor did he have to clear it with me. I knew it. I knew. We went back to my apartment and he called her from there. He even went into another room, and I could still hear him trying to whisper (Pro Tip: Whispering when you're drunk doesn't always work). "Baby, baby...I'm sorry. Yeah, I'll stay here. Yeah, it's fine. Baby...I'm sorry!" Lotsa "baby" this and "baby" that and all kindsa sorry. It was pretty funny, actually.

And he was passed out soon after that call, while watching the acoustic DVD I grabbed. He had to pay the piper in the morning...my job was to drive him to the store so he could get a Wegmans sub for the lady, and then take him over to her workplace so he could drop it off. A bit of a peace offering, I presume. Coincidentally, I didn't see too much of him after that night until we got closer to their wedding. I don't think Regan liked me too much because of that experience (none of his friends thought she liked any of us, actually)...and he's had a solid career of getting excessively shitfaced when he's been out without his significant others (I'll have to tell the 5am kidnapping story again some other time) and talking relationship smack that we didn't always need to hear. I may or may not have been a bad influence, just as much as he may or may not have needed to get out a little more often.

"You said you want it. You said you need it.
What you don't know is I know...that you can't get it."
Lyrics.  

The song? I can't hear it and not feel like I'm in a pretty good mood. It's high-energy, and it makes me wanna bump around and knock things over, like Dave and a carafe of coffee at Perkins. I wanna flashmob group hug a crowded downtown intersection of strangers (in 2005; not now...I just wanna stay away from people as much as possible now). I wanna be younger and give even less fucks. It convinces me I wanna be happy at least sometimes, even when I know better not to be...even when I know that maybe happiness isn't exactly attainable or what I need at that particular moment. It's more like accepting it'll eventually happen. Like it's ok to question it, but don't outright just keep me from it...I can do that fine enough on my own. Are we really happy? Ask yourself.