and, worse, smellier.
Oddly, Im more awake today than Ive been all week.
I think thats a sign of acceptance.
Credit: Debbie Smyth/WireImage.com
Where else could you walk from Regina Spektors enigmatic pleas straight into the spastic arms of Craig Finn?
Damn you, spoon guy.
You killed my dream.
Not killing my dream, however oh Whittlz how your segues get better and better every single day!
were the aforementioned Ms. Spektor and Mr. Britt Daniel.
Her first words to the rapt crowd?
Disappointingly, the set did not featureDavid Cross performing an interpretive dance.
Which sucks, because I know hes here somewhere, and I had hopes.
But is this what you want to hear about, PopWatchers?
No it is not.
Well: They looked like the Police, but older.
They played some stuff (yay, Next to You!
), but not others (hello?
would Murder By Numbers really be so hard?
), and ended almost an hour early.
Parts of the Police very much ruled, yes; other parts, not so much.
I can heap nothing but glowing praise on the gong-shattering, timpani-pounding gray head of Stewart Copeland.
Who knows what went down there.
Here are two contrasting examples.
But the bridge of King of Pain what a glorious transition!
It was, at least in that moment, completely true.
Sorry to those whod asked me to check the band out.
Ill try and track them down elsewhere.]
Whats with the giant balloons, and why do they all stay in the same place on the field?
Is that bird Wayne is holding real?
Did he really spend the last two years building that spaceship in his backyard?
Is there going to be a song, like, ever?
Wayne Coyne knows that racket, and he is a pro.
What songs did he play?…
Well see what happens.
