Last night, Jeff Mangum (Neutral Milk Hotel) made the surprise live appearance in the video above at Wall Street in support of the Occupy Wall Street protestors. The sound quality isn't that great but get over yourself - this is taken from a live stream of an impromptu event at the front lines of a political upheaval. The songs include Holland 1945, Ghost, Song Against Sex, Two-Headed Boy Part 2, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, and The King of Carrot Flowers Part 1. The line "we know who our enemies are" in the song Oh Comely got an especially big cheer. After performing, Mangum told the crowd, "You guys have done a beautiful fucking thing."
While all this was going on in NYC, I was on line in ATL to see tUnE-yArDs at the Basement at Graveyard Tavern. The show was scheduled to start at 9:00, but since I didn't have tickets, I went to the Graveyard Tavern at 8:00 to get in line early.
It was my first time at Graveyard Tavern, and entering I was surprised to find it quite a nice establishment with wood-paneled walls, large booths, and a lot of seating and mingling areas, and not nearly the dive that I thought for some reason it would be. The food smelled really good, too, but I wasn't there to eat (I'll eat when I'm dead). Note to self, though, to come back here again someday soon.
Since I didn't know where the entrance to The Basement stage at the Graveyard Tavern was, I sat at the bar, ordered a beer (18-ounce Newcastle Brown Ale, for those of you keeping score at home), and asked the bartender if she were selling any tickets to the evening's show. I was told that there was a "small number" of tickets available for the show, but they would be sold at the door on a "first come, first serve" basis. I thanked her but as I sipped my beer I still didn't see any line forming or any entrance to The Basement, although there were a lot of posters for the show all over the tavern with arrows pointing straight down. I finally asked a lady bussing tables where the entrance might be and was told that it was outside and around the back. I settled my tab and headed back.
I was mildly dismayed to see that there was already a group of 25 or so people on line with 40 minutes still left before show time, none of whom, I learned, had tickets. I wasn't sure how small the "small number" of tickets would be, but as I waited, the line got longer and longer and longer, and soon stretched down the block and around the corner, and nearly everyone who walked by asked if this were the line to buy tickets (implying that they didn't have any either). I felt better about my chances of getting in when I realized I was among the first 5%, or less, of people waiting to buy tickets. In fact, the question on the street as we waited was if anyone at all had pre-purchased tickets, and if not, would the performers even bother to show up thinking the house would be empty.
They finally started letting us in at about quarter past nine. They seemed to take a lot of time with each customer, which only increased the suspense, but we moved up slowly, and soon I got to the point where they were checking I.D.s (not a problem here) and I got my wrist band. I was practically inside, and starting to get confident that I would see the show.
There were only three people ahead of me on line when the "Sold Out" announcement was called out, and two people who had already actually gotten inside of the door walked out with their heads hung low. The three in front of me just stood there in disbelief, and even I walked in to confirm for myself what I was hearing and to plead my case "for just one more." They were actually more receptive to my pleas than I thought they'd be, and for one crazy moment I thought that I might just get in after all, but they eventually suggested that I come back in an hour or so to see if there were any "no shows" and if the club weren't at capacity. I silently declined their offer and went home.
I've been wondering how to end this account of an event that didn't happen. I was disappointed, naturally, but not angry, not even at myself for failing to buy tickets ahead of time. It seems that fate or karma or what have you determined that last night Rocktober was not going to include your bald-headed narrator watching tUnE-yArDs perform live, but instead manifest as me and the cats watching Sons of Anarchy on the tee-vee at home. No problem. A chance to rest up for another evening. A dollar saved. Whatever.
So I guess this story just ends with the story just ending, just like this.
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