Tragically Dipsh*ts

Just got back from seeing the Tragically Hip at [Irving Plaza][1]. I’ve never seen them before. Most likely, I will never see them again. They weren’t bad…the music was very good, the beats and riffs were rockin’. What sucked were:

* The singer’s voice
* The fucking fans

Seriously, the singer sounded like [PiL][2]-era Johnny Lydon, and the fans were the worst sort of fans: overgrown frat guys who couldn’t hold their beers. Honestly, it was like a whole bunch of 7th graders at their first concert, standing in packs, jumping up and down, crashing into other concert-goers, constantly pushing their way through their jumping crashing packs to throw their drunken arms around their drunken friends and sing four words of the current song before resuming the drunken crashing jumping behavior.

Honestly. What fuckfaces.

And here’s the worst part: they were Canadian WANNABES! No lie! They had on Leafs hats and Canada hockey sweaters, said “eh” and “fuckin’ a!,” and probably woke up this morning having a wet dream about ass fucking Dudley Do-right on the counter at Tim Hortons.

It was bad enough the singer’s voice and delivery captured the worst parts of [Peter Garrett][3] without any of the enlightening social commentary. I had to endure it while fending off Labbatt’s-soaked poseur Canucks. Fuckin’ A indeed.

Anyway, it’s late and my music adrenaline has been completely spent. Work tomorrow, and then work on the downstairs room. And no stupid-ass Habs.

[1]: “Irving Plaza”
[2]: “PiL”
[3]: “Peter Garrett”


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