Apr 23, 2008
Every descriptive phrase I've ever hated came to mind last night; for example: "off the hook", "totally boss", and "all that" came to mind. Other good examples included "the shiz", "the Kubla Kahn", and "on like Donkey Kong". But I don't blame society: I blame the Hot Chip concert.
After turning back to retrieve our forgotten tickets, we were a little late--they were about 45 minutes into their set already, but we still saw a good solid hour of the best party music around. I don't know anyone who hates Hot Chip--you would also have to hate floor-thumping, heart-pounding, hands-flailing, brain-numbing, boogie-inspiring, death-defying, teeth-grinding, fist-pumping, ass-shaking, time-shattering, sock-rocking, sweaty, writhing, euphoria-inducing, good ol' fashioned FUN. And who hates fun? NAZIS, THAT'S WHO.
It wasn't just thump-thump-thump-thump, all night long; they really integrated their set with slower songs, funny dialogue ("...we'd like to introduce the next song...as the next Hot Chip song we're going to play..."), and fantastic lighting. I know that's what most musicians do, but I was really expecting more of an endless toil of indistinguishable rave-y music--mostly because Hot Chip has a very distinct sound, but I didn't know if it would translate in a live show. I know better now. I also thought I would be seeing the younger (early to mid-20's), punk rock hipster crowd there--the kids who wear the skinny jeans with their neon heels, asymmetrical haircuts, horizontally-striped hoodies, and a permanent look of disdain (a look you can't see since they're usually wearing sunglasses, inside of a club, at night). Some of them look pretty cool, but most of the time I'm wondering: why would you go out of your way to look dirty and poor? It's baffling to me.
Instead, it was an older, more mature crowd. It was a crowd of people who really loved the music, and boogied until the very last note left the building (and beyond). There are some parts to getting older that I don't mind, and one of them is dancing in public without really caring. I used to hate it, I was too self-conscious; now I see it as my right and responsibility to dance my arse off and get my money's worth. Standing around, staring at a stage? I could have that experience watching YouTube. I'm not like the people who were in our immediate area, though: two boring head-bobbers, a bunch of male yuppies in button-down shirts doing some shoulder-grooving, an arm pumper (body jumping straight up and down, arm going in the air every beat), a shuffler, and a 40+ chick who was doing some kind of dramatic modern dance right next to me. At one point, I looked over and could hear her inner voice crying, "I'm a tree, I'M A TREE!" and then her arms blossomed into the air, head tilted to the side, body rigid, music flowing over her. A weirdly beautiful thing to see at the weirdly beautiful Hot Chip concert.
And let us not forget that the last encore song of the evening was a spot-on cover of Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares to You". Let us not forget that.