Well, the venue was neat

The matching little riding hoods were the first things to tip me off: this was going to be an ostentatious show.

There were also some hints in the Walt Disney Concert Hall's lobby, though. Urban Outfitters models in black-framed glasses, unnecessary scarfs, flat ballerina shoes, American Apparel t-shirts, skinny jeans with zippers leading to no where, plaid button-ups, and swooping hair cuts milled passed Theodore and me as we drank our $14 half-bottle of water. The most embarrassing part is that we blended right in.

We found our seats in one of the curves of the building. (This place turned out to be the sexiest structure I have ever seen. If you have a chance, buy tickets for one of the events just to see this building. And before you go, read "The Fountainhead," for good measure. Crazy architecture kind of blows my mind.) Most of the people in the crowd were of the hip kind, ergo in their 20s, ergo showing up 20 minutes late, ergo not knowing how to hold themselves while the L.A. Philharmonic opened for the Dirty Projectors. Eventually everyone learned to watch the conductor's hands for the appropriate moment to applause.

The Philharmonic was obviously marvelous, but truthfully my attention was wandering toward the sexy ceiling and sexy walls. (Really, you have to see this place.) Then, since the seats are circled around the stage, I was able to look at all the hip kids while they enjoyed the music. These are some of the thought bubbles I put over their heads: "Hm, this is cool. I really should come to the symphony more. It would make a great status update." and "Wow, this is boring. But I have to say I like it because if I don't, my friends won't think I'm groovy."

After intermission came the riding hoods: grey, blue, yellow, and red. How cute. How old are those little girls any way? They look 12 to me. The band played an entire album with some of the Philharmonic; it was an album that only sold something like 10 copies. Now, I'm not a music person by any means. I don't get it, and most of the time music just annoys me. But I know what I like and I know what I don't like; and I know what people are supposed to like because it's just too damn cool to stand up in a big concert hall singing about kangaroos while matching your three best buds: "Ooooooo, ahhhhh, oooooo, oh, oh, ahhhh."

The sad thing is that I like the Dirty Projectors. But I have only heard their Bitte Orca album, which is still bizarre. Yes, he sings about Gatorade hittin the spot oh yeah; but those songs have an actual melody that I can follow. When the music stops in the echoing concert hall and the 20 people on stage are trying to clap at the same time in a slow rhythm, and the audience can't stand up to try to get into the music because the seats were hugging the sexy walls, I start to look over at Theodore and nod my head while he imitates a kangaroo dancing to the music--that would have saved the show.

What I like to think about when going to shows is, who are these people that got suckered into doing this on stage? Not the leads. But the backup. Who is this first-string violinist who said, "Sure, I'll play with you guys."

As she is running out the door in the morning she yells up to her husband, "Honey, I'm going to be late tonight. I have a show, then I'm playing with some kids who want to include some of the best musicians in the world to do their backup!"

He peeks his head down, "Was that that crazy rock jiggy you were playing last night?"

"Yes. But at least I'm not the French Horn. Those guys have to blow in bottles."

It's true. Some of the wind instruments picked up glass bottles and blue into them during one of the songs.

"Hey the show is about to start. Can you finish drinking my instrument?"

It really was such a pleasure to watch two grown men bend over to their shared microphone, their back fat showing through nicely chosen shirts for the occasion. That part was worth it.

After this stressful (hour? 2 hours? I don't know) of dissonant chords and overused percussion, Theodore and I bolted out of there. Luckily we waited toward the back to see if we knew any of their songs in their encore. Finally, 2 songs that I've heard of! That part was actually enjoyable, I'll have you know. Dave Longstreth really has a magnificent voice, and is a damned good guitarist. (He's even a lefty: unique.) Those two songs were completely worth that lovely amount of money I don't want to think about right now. We could understand his lyrics and could kind of sing a long to it. People still weren't moving though. The seats were pretty restricting, so watching the band up there was still a bit awkward. At least we walked out of there with a familiar tune in our heads.

I think Theodore summed it up best while we were driving home: "Call me crazy, but people like music they can relate to."