I am lucky.
Lucky to have a younger brother who adores the same kind of music that I do.
Lucky to live in a city where good live music is a right, not a privilege.
Sometimes, when you are teetering on motherhood burnout, on the verge of selling your bright-eyed boys on ebay, that younger brother calls with an early birthday present to see one of your favorite bands.
So this past Sunday night, I surrounded myself with many a hipster drinking high-end beers.
For that hour or two, you are just there.
There’s no bills or supplements or poopy diapers.
and you are all like,
Man, I need to do this more often.
Like once a week and twice on Sunday
For a band hated by many a hipster, Vampire Weekend headlining at the Pitchfork Music Festival was one hell of a turnout.
It was healing for me.
So I watched many of those hipsters, try not to enjoy Vampire Weekend, standing glumly with their Toms shoes and thrift store clothes, but inside they were dancing.
Just as I was openly. And singing loudly. In my clearance rack four-inch platforms. Because, whatever, I’m 4’11″ and platforms allow me to see the stage, damn it. I was the only girl at the show in high shoes. And Toms cost like $60, you hipster.
Vampire Weekend’s music is like a cold is a preschool classroom.
Really. Take a listen if they are new to you.
I adore Vampire Weekend, with their nonsenical lyrics and sunshine-upbeat rifts. It takes a crappy morning and makes it into something. Monkey begs for it. Music! What happened music? Vampire! Song!
You train them young, not on nursery rhymes, but indie rock.
One of the best nights of summer.