Minnie Driver
The Screeching Miasma
The Crocodile, Seattle, WA
It is downright thrilling to me to walk into a place I know so well, like The Croc, and see a bizarre assortment of people who I'm certain have never visited before and will never visit again. Tonight there are couples at the club in three piece suits, likely fresh from dinner at Axis. I see an alarming number of hair accessories (including buns. BUNS.). You've got quite a few over-50 types, one guy in particular trying to get some cred by wearing a PJ Harvey t-shirt tucked in to his pants. And finally various drunken jackasses inciting ACTUAL SHUSHING from other audience members. Oh, and WOW there must be a jillion dollars in hairdos in here.
Some people are at the Minnie Driver show out of objectifying curiosity ("Are you kidding? She's a total babe!" "I wonder how tall she is?" "How much do you think she paid for that outfit?"); others are here to see her fail ("what kinds of effects are they using on her voice?" "Oh - she's doing another cover"); and the balance attend because they heard her on the Mountain Music Lounge the other day. I spoke with very few people who had even heard one song before they arrived tonight.
Minnie has a lovely voice and the music is nice enough, but it's like that CD you have where you pop it into the stereo and then ten minutes later think that maybe you should put on a CD. Doesn't really sink in so much.
There are some excellent shirts in this crowd, however; my friend Jason calls them "goin' places shirts". One guy has on what looks like a regular striped pink-orange shirt, but from the back suddenly features this crazy tiger print. RROWR! Another guy has on an airbrushed shirt of a city skyline with a giant martini glass hovering in the middle.
A couple of gals are wearing their own goin' places shirts, which bring to mind this hilarious song about ill-fitting bras that I saw the Dayglo Abortions play this summer. But seeing these girls inspires my friend to say "if they can do it, I can do it" and right there she vows to start looking more like Megan Mullally.
Aside from the people behind us that basically miss the entire show because they don't want to give up their table, the crowd is pretty attentive. One Croc regular I talk to thinks it is the trashiest show he has seen in forever and tries not to look too closely at the sensibility-offending audience members. But it's good for all of us to break out of our bubbles once in a while, whether we're slumming, collecting stories for the office on Monday, or having our sacred spaces inhabited temporarily by Armani-wearing aliens.
The Crocodile, Seattle, WA
It is downright thrilling to me to walk into a place I know so well, like The Croc, and see a bizarre assortment of people who I'm certain have never visited before and will never visit again. Tonight there are couples at the club in three piece suits, likely fresh from dinner at Axis. I see an alarming number of hair accessories (including buns. BUNS.). You've got quite a few over-50 types, one guy in particular trying to get some cred by wearing a PJ Harvey t-shirt tucked in to his pants. And finally various drunken jackasses inciting ACTUAL SHUSHING from other audience members. Oh, and WOW there must be a jillion dollars in hairdos in here.
Some people are at the Minnie Driver show out of objectifying curiosity ("Are you kidding? She's a total babe!" "I wonder how tall she is?" "How much do you think she paid for that outfit?"); others are here to see her fail ("what kinds of effects are they using on her voice?" "Oh - she's doing another cover"); and the balance attend because they heard her on the Mountain Music Lounge the other day. I spoke with very few people who had even heard one song before they arrived tonight.
Minnie has a lovely voice and the music is nice enough, but it's like that CD you have where you pop it into the stereo and then ten minutes later think that maybe you should put on a CD. Doesn't really sink in so much.
There are some excellent shirts in this crowd, however; my friend Jason calls them "goin' places shirts". One guy has on what looks like a regular striped pink-orange shirt, but from the back suddenly features this crazy tiger print. RROWR! Another guy has on an airbrushed shirt of a city skyline with a giant martini glass hovering in the middle.
A couple of gals are wearing their own goin' places shirts, which bring to mind this hilarious song about ill-fitting bras that I saw the Dayglo Abortions play this summer. But seeing these girls inspires my friend to say "if they can do it, I can do it" and right there she vows to start looking more like Megan Mullally.
Aside from the people behind us that basically miss the entire show because they don't want to give up their table, the crowd is pretty attentive. One Croc regular I talk to thinks it is the trashiest show he has seen in forever and tries not to look too closely at the sensibility-offending audience members. But it's good for all of us to break out of our bubbles once in a while, whether we're slumming, collecting stories for the office on Monday, or having our sacred spaces inhabited temporarily by Armani-wearing aliens.
posted by The Fanalyst at 1:27 AM
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