Last night LK and I, and half a dozen assorted friends went to see The Beastie Boys at the Santa Barbara Bowl. That's one of the things to love about this tiny town, it's touristy prettiness can lure some pretty big names to come and play. We've even seen Oasis play our little beach-burg, but that was honestly a little peculiar. They opened for The Black Crows, or The Counting Crows, I can't remember (one of those fucking Crow Bands as LK would say). I'm sure Santa Barbara didn't quite know what'd hit it when Noel Gallagher stood up in front of a crowd of about 30o people who were drifting in with their Chardonnays waiting for the main act. I remembering him yelling about Manchester City and saying 'Fook, I'm standing 'ere grinnin' like fookin' Des Lynam up 'ere'.
Sound of crickets chirping.
Still, they were big for me. But that's my point, I'm a bit crap when it comes to music. NME means Nothing to ME. I was excited when A-ha came to the Harrogate Conference Centre. Well, who wouldn't be? Nothing that big had ever graced our provincial little town since the Liberal Democrat Party Conference. No major act has ever yelled "We love you Pannal!!" at a rock concert.
Interesting side note, the only time the Beastie Boys had invaded my consciousness growing up was when someone stole the VW sign from my Dad's Jetta circa 1987. *I'm that crap*.
If I disappeared whilst running and all they found of me was my Nano they would send out an all-points bulletin for a middle-aged hausfrau from Coventry. "Hmm, Travis, Wayne Newton and the Lightning Seeds - we're looking for a schizophrenic elderly white woman, dressed in head to toe hand-knit, Marks and Spencers knickers, possibly resides in a small village; harmless, definitely harmless".
So there I was, at the Beastie Boys, my enjoyment level somewhere between yelling "Beastie Boys in the Hizzouz" and "so this is what our tenants are listening to on their ghetto-blasters, and good grief is that actually a 'mosh pit', how novel".
Actually it was brilliant, and I'm bloody glad we decided not to take Anna (thanks Mooks!) because we were in the nosebleeds with 500 sweaty West Coast Chopper looky-likeys all smoking pot and generally having a jolly good time.
I turned to LK and said "Fuck, we're getting high just standing here" and he said "-er, high-er".
Mrs. Skeletor got a lot of ASS (Almost Star Sightings); she is convinced she sat next to Michael J. Fox, and tried to persuade us she saw Lance Armstrong, but quite frankly, what guy in Santa Barbara does not look like Lance Armstrong? Every bloke in this town is clean-cut, white and looks like they could do a triathlon at the drop of a hat. Plus you were wasted Mrs. S. But, if anyone wants to leap to her rescue, I am open to comments about the validity of her sightings.
Generally though a very good crowd. Still lots of fake boobs and pretentious people waving around their i-phones, but unlike Pearl Jam, these fake tits were definitely made in Camarillo not Beverly Hills. That's as down-to-earth as Santa Barbara gets.
Next concert is this Tuesday, Stevie Wonder. Now he's already on my Nano, and not for 'I just called' either, thankyou very much.