Easy as 1-2-3
April 18th, 2005 by becA few weeks ago I saw the show posted on the TLA website: Handsome Boy Modeling School. April 16. 11 pm. My long-suffering boyfriend and I do a lot of things at 11 pm on a Saturday, like:
a. Think about watching SNL
b. Put on pajamas
c. Go to bed
Clearly, seeing a late-night hip-hop show is not routine, but we both really enjoy Handsome Boy and were eager to see the duo live. We bought tickets and arranged for him to come down to Philly that weekend. I later screwed up that plan by arranging a grad school visit the day before, but no matter: I met up with him for the drive back to Philly.
Long-distance drives are always tough for us, and by us I mean him (there’s a reason he’s long-suffering). A three-hour car ride with me means a lot of:
a. “Can we stop at TCBY?”
b. “I’m tired; do you really need me to stay awake?”
c. (Following a rest stop sign with TCBY logo) “I… uh… have to go to the bathroom.” (Pause) “Are you hungry?”
We made it back alive (barely), and exhausted, and crashed early Friday night. On Saturday, we saw a 7 pm theatre show, then called some friends to meet up for a late dinner. We had spoken about meeting on South Street, as it was near the TLA and our 11 pm show. I had no clue where we should go, as I rarely go to South Street bars. In general, I try to stay away from South Street at night, cause I think it’s full of:
a. Drunk guys from Jersey
b. Teenagers
c. Ugly people. At least, when they’ve been drinking and I haven’t… when I’ve been drinking, it’s a different story.
We finally settled on the Dark Horse, which I liked (I had a salad with roasted mushrooms and goat cheese; I felt it complimented the canapes with mushrooms and goat cheese I’d eaten earlier). Several beers in, we headed towards the TLA – one friend warned, “the way to get through this is to keep drinking.”
When we got to the show, at 12:15 (I know, we’re CRAZY! Just out of control!), the first opening group was still on. Clearly, they had not gotten the memo that I was:
a. Tired
b. Drunk
c. Capable of eye-rolling the likes of which they’d never experienced before.
I went to get more booze and made the aquaintance of a pleasant young gentleman who asked, “Are you here to see Handsome Boy Modeling School?” I thought this was charming. Sadly, I did not get “the digits,” which is really a shame, because I wanted to ask him:
a. “Is that your cigarette behind your ear?”
b. “Are you at the bar to get alcohol?”
c. “Are you enjoying the heavy scent of drugstore cologne permeating the air around your person?”
Another time, perhaps. I rejoined my long-suffering boyfriend to see the second opener, K-os. I really enjoyed K-os (great sound that mixes Jamaican beats, Roots-like rap, Wyclef-style rhythm, and some classic American covers), but unfortunately, the middle of his set coincided with me looking at my beer and thinking, “CANNOT. DRINK. MORE. AMSTEL.” The brief nap I took during the last few songs helped revive me a little, but things were looking pretty dire. He concluded his set and Handsome Boy came on a few minutes later – it was 2 AM.
I’d like to say that I really enjoyed seeing Handsome Boy live, but I didn’t. I still love their music, but the live performance aspect was lacking, which I guess I should have expected from two guys who do more producing than rapping. There was a lot of scratching, a lot of fake moustaches, and a lot of telling the crowd how handsome we were at 3 AM, but overall I wanted a more energetic performance, and I wanted more live artistry. Bringing out an Iron Chef for a cameo was a sweet trick, though. We finally left at 3:15 AM and stumbled back to my apartment, swearing to never do this again, cause
a. Several hours standing on two injured ankles is only going to make my orthopedist richer.
b. I always get stuck next to a superdrunk dancing guy at the TLA. Always. Guys, if you’re alone and want to get really drunk and dance, the best place to do it is far away from me.
c. I cannot handle late night concerts. I guess that makes me old. Or possibly lame. Yeah, I’ll stick with old.
