How were they? How were they? How were they!!! (By 'they' I mean Chevy Metal) (and by 'how were they?' I mean I am almost certain they would've been amazing but please tell me HOW amazing!). I do hope you're having an excellent night in the presence of such great music (and great hair). I'm thrilled you were able to get your hands on a ticket! I'm sure many others are also eager to hear about the show đ
YO, I am running on 30 minutesâ sleep, coffee #1 and pure post-gig buzz but iâll try to type a recap that forms legible words because I kind of left you all hanging. (Iâm also half-deaf now so thereâs another thing DG and I have in common.)Â
The group I linked up with (largely from the Aussie fan page) hung around at the back door for a few hours, freezing our nips off, on the off chance theyâd be up for a chat when they arrived. But with an hour before doors open, they screeched up and had to rush in. Dave spoke for a bit and looked tired but apologetic. He also seemed to fix his gaze on me for some reason
Side note: Cold and fatigue had me jittering all over the place up to that point, so youâd think thatâd only get worse upon their arrival, yet the second their van pulled up, I was so steady and calm. Maybe itâs because I feel like theyâre familiar to me? Anyway
I got prime position right in front of where Dave would be so two hours were spent with us having mere centimetres between us (and I think that set me up for getting showered with attention, like, an amount I wasnât ready for)
The Night The Grohlkins Murdered Me #1: âWhen youâve been dating someone as long as iâve been dating Taylor HawkinsâŚyou have a psychic musical connectionâ
The Night The Grohlkins Murdered Me #2: âWhen youâve been with someone as long as iâve been with TaylorâŚyou exchange a lot of fluidsâ
The Night The Grohlkins Murdered Me #3: Dave rolling his hips slowly mid-song and Taylor calling him a sexy motherfucker
Dave speaking with a Spanish accent: âAy, my leever (liver)â
Wiley spotted me, pointed with both hands and waved
Daveâs âwarm-upâ is three Advils and a shot of whiskey
Dave and I mouthing a part of âBreakdownâ to each other
Brent wins the distance-traveled competition with (if memory serves) 27 hours of flying just to do this gig
Dave stretched out the neck of his guitar, belted a riff, then dragged the head up in front of my face like a tongue
Taylor and that one damn shoelace every single time
Gus, Yeti, and Tim were there working and wandering - the band room was in the same section as the bathrooms so really anyone could linger and cross paths with this crew, but I wasnât about to go chatting anyone up when theyâre working
But they did pass me a setlist and one of Daveâs picks
The guy whoâd given me a ticket earlier sought us out again and said, âSee you at Frankieâsâ with a knowing wink. So we headed there and waited but by 1am, we were too drilled to sit around a minute longer and called it. Even if there had been an itty bitty chance of linking up with them, I wouldâve seen six of each of them at that point anyway so how rewarding could it have been? I was already one lucky duck anyway, I was good
snowghoul
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