Wow.

I mean, really, wow.

Last night was wonderful. It was one of those nights where everything goes so right that it's actually tangible and if anything had gone any more right it would have seemed oppressive, as though something bad would have to happen to shatter the perfectness of the evening.

The show was held at the Avalon Hollywood (formerly the Palace); this big, beautiful old theater with high ceilings, overhanging balconies, velvet drapes, the works. I love old buildings with a history, and this place has it. (Cool fact: the Beatles' first West Coast show was performed there.) It was the perfect spot to see a band like Beirut play; the romantic atmosphere was the perfect backdrop for the the more intense musical arrangements.

(And there were like, a ton of bars inside, so that was pretty neat, too.)

(And yes, I just said "perfectness of the evening" and "romantic atmosphere". And no, I am not drunk. Or on meds. It's just me. This freaks me out too as, you know, I'm normally dead inside and all and don't notice/say shit like this. I can only attribute these...these girly feelings to the fact that its finally getting cold at night, or as cold as it gets in Southern California, and I am never happier than when I get to wear coats and gloves and scarves and stockings and can see my breath in the air and feel fragile and let whiskey warm me from the inside out.)

...And speaking of whiskey, I was two Jamesons deep when Beirut took the stage, which may have had a little bit to do with the fact that OH MY GOD this band is going to get me in trouble.

Let me explain.

Music, like many, many other things in life, is better experienced with a drink or two under your belt. And Beirut's songs? They make for some serious drinking music. My favorites (Mount Wroclai, Prenzlauerberg, Nantes, Bandenburg, Rhineland (Heartland), Guyamas Sonora) are dramatic productions that make me want to dance raucously on tables, drink my weight in something intoxicating, and hurl the spent glasses at the wall. Which I generally try to avoid doing. (But it is an effort, to be sure.)

There is nothing minimalistic or simple about these songs, nothing gentle. You don't sit around calmly while listening to them; there are bottles of wine involved, glasses full of vodka, laughter, shouting, and you can bet that someone will wake up with an injury that for the life of them they can't remember how they got.

In other words: a really good time.

So if I act out of line, get loud, break things? I couldn't help it, the music made me do it.

(Some mother, somewhere, will totally buy that.)

The show ended around midnight, so I hightailed it back to Long Beach to meet up with some friends at the bar. I had to work the next day (today) though, so it was an early night (for me) but such a nice one that I'm having a really hard time not just driving up to LA after work tonight to see them play again. Because I don't know if you've noticed, but overindulgence? Something I kind of excel at.

However, as much as I would like to, chances are that I won't be going up to LA tonight since I have a 10 page paper due tomorrow. Which I haven't started on. Because procrastination is another thing that I excel at.

As are skee-ball, knot tying, and fish gutting, but those are all stories for another time.

So, in conclusion, go see Beirut. Get drunk. Get messy. Blame them. Thank me.

Cheers.