Saw Girl Talk at the Avalon tonight. I’ll be honest and say I’m not really qualified to write a blog post appraising the music, the ambiance, or any facet of the hipness that surrounds this guy for any of the following reasons: 1) I don’t go to concerts, 2) I don’t go to clubs, 3) I don’t go to concerts at clubs, 4) I bought my ticket about 30 minutes before the show started, off of Craigslist. You know, just like all the hardcore devoted fans.

However, I will damn well post about the experience because 1) I am opinionated, 2) I have been to ONE concert at a club, 3) That concert was ALSO Girltalk, and 4) tonight’s concert was a piece of shit.

It was loud, it was crazy, it was ridiculous, it was ludicrous, it was dangerous, some people liked pushing, some people may have been trampled. All in good fun, and part of any great Girl Talk concert, right? I really have no idea. However, I do know that it was idiotic for the doorman at the Avalon to deny entry to half of my party because they looked drunk, and to let in a bajillion sober-looking-but-actually-trashed black-t-shirted tall oxen-like creatures who clearly belonged in a mosh pit at a Primus concert. Instead, they were at a mosh pit at our concert. Moshing. Or they can claim they were dancing, but that doesn’t explain the waves of people who were periodically pushed down onto the ground and subsequently trampled. Of course, I suppose the fact that they heinously oversold the room may have accounted for this, as well as for the fact that it was impossible to dance. Or to breathe. A great relief one might say, because then you can just relax and let the rhythm of a sea of sweaty bodies permeate you and carry you in dance-like motions. It’s a spiritual experience that’s even better than dancing or breathing. Clear your mind, you know. Meditate a little. Take a deep non-breath. Pray. That your ribcage doesn’t snap shut on itself.

Compare this to Girl Talk at the Middle East last winter. Replace oxen-like creatures with impossibly attractive hipster girls (where were they this time?), rib-crushing pressure with perfect amount of dancing space — just enough to flail unattractively, not so much that others can see you doing so. Replace bouncers with an attitude with staff who understand that piss-drunk college students are that way because they are fun-loving, have a positive outlook on life, irradiate others with their sunny disposition, and are a boon to the human experience. We got in, exercised our ear drums on Girl Talk’s laptop synthesizers for a while, and danced. Simple enough, and evidently too difficult to manage for the friendly folks at the Avalon. Am I being unreasonable?

I’ll be waiting for the next DJ who is not that popular. And by waiting, of course, I mean waiting for someone else to tell me about them.

Incidentally, over the course of 2 opener bands I developed a taste for Euro-trash music. Simian Mobile Disco anyone?