So last Tuesday night I went to the Matt and Kim concert at the House of Blues with one of my friends. Prior to stepping foot in the venue, I had heard of them a few times and listened to some of their music for literally the very first time on their Pandora station while I got ready for the show. I decided to go in with an open mind, because I love music and will give anything a listen at least once.
So. Many. Hipsters.Hipsters in denim. Hipsters in scarves. Hipsters wearing fedoras. Hipsters in plaid. Buddy Holly glasses. PBR. SO. MUCH. PBR. Cardigans. Chuck Taylors. Irony everywhere.
AND BEARDS. HIPSTER BEARDS ABOUNDED.I enjoy hipsters, for the most part. I like that they ride bikes and urban beekeep and garden and the uncanny ability they have to go reside in a shitty neighborhood and BAM, almost instant gentrification. I admire their dedication to microbrews and tattoos and the obscure. Without them, I would not have Portlandia. And I love Portlandia. But anyway. There were hipsters, and the sheer number of them in one small venue was mildly overwhelming. So I went to message my best friend on Facebook Messenger (he is in the Caribbean and cannot use his phone because international rates and stuff), and I HAD NO CONNECTION. I cursed the House of Blues gods for blocking my 4G and proceeded to take notes in my Notes app of the funny stuff I thought of while the show went on. After the show (which I really enjoyed), I read over my notes and realized they might make a witty blog post.
So here y’all go. Matt and Kim, AS IT HAPPENED (four days later):
I hate tall people.
(I am 5’1″ and all short people will understand the hatred that is getting stuck behind anyone who is more than three inches taller than you at a standing room only concert.)Either my whiteness is coming out and I have no rhythm, or either all the white people around me have no rhythm.
I’m going with all the white people around me because I feel like I can dance.
Someone control the bros. They’re getting out of control.
(Shortly after this, a drunken bro was escorted out of the venue for turning up too hard.)
I am the calmest person at this concert.
I don’t know how to dance to hipster music.
Like, is bouncing my leg and nodding my head appropriate?
I feel like it is.
That’s what I’m going with.
Oh hey…they’re covering “Ignition (Remix)”. I love that song.
That man across the room is wearing the shortest, tightest jorts I have ever seen on a man.They are seriously like Daisy Dukes. He’s wearing denim hot pants.
I will not jump, Matt and Kim. I’m in a room of uncoordinated young white professionals.I have upgraded my dance moves to wiggling my body and shaking my head back and forth.
This band is pretty great. I would be friends with these guys.Oh…they busted out the fucking smoke machines. You know shit is serious when they bust out the smoke machines. Is this hip hop?
Oh shit…I can dance to hip hop. And dance briefly to the blip of music I shall.
The guy in front of me smells like Beefaroni and stale PBR.No Kim…I cannot FaceTime someone because I went over my data this month and AT&T charges $10 an extra GB.
Blue eyeshadow just is not flattering on ANYONE. I don’t care who you are.
Wait wait wait wait…she’s gonna dance on their hands?
Holy shit…she’s dancing on their hands.
Okay…I am downloading their albums from iTunes when I get home.
(Here is an actual music video of Matt and Kim performing “Hey Now”.)