“please just don’t play with me. my paper heart will bleed. this wait for destiny won’t do.” – The All-American Rejects.
my new guilty pleasure. the all-american rejects. the lead singer is a hottie. but i’m sure he’s like 18.
so, last night at the Royksopp show. so awesome. i walked in without any expectations cuz i really hadn’t heard much of their stuff. but it was an amazing show. i’m not good at categorizing music. so how do they describe their own sound? “it’s us searching for the truth,” Torbjorn states bluntly. “But if we came up with one sentence it would be to combine the harmonies of the film music and of classical composers such as Erik Satie and melodies of Francis Lai (arty porn film producer) with the analogue warmth of Seventies and the fatness of the Eighties over a thorough beat programming.” the best part was the boy to girl ratio was 30 to 1. massive cute boys.
plus, we got aftershow passes. so, we went down after the show to the basement where they were having this after show thing. there were about ten or so people down there. and i think everyone knew the band. we didn’t. i didn’t even know their names. let me just tell you that there is nothing impressive about backstage whatsoever. it’s like a dirty locker room. people just hanging out. empty pizza boxes. don’t get me wrong, though. like it or not, i enjoyed walking past the oogling hardcore fans who tried desparately to schmooze their way in. what can i say, i have a sadistic streak in me. too bad it wasn’t for a show that i would have loved to be backstage at. so, we hung out for a little and left knowing that we were envied, even for just a little bit, that night. suckers. love me or hate me. but please just don’t lie to me.