Listening to José Gonzálezos reminds me of a driving into downtown Los Angeles with KCRW on the radio. I’m past any traffic trouble, feeling mellow, and the night is full of possibilities. Or, it’s season 1 of Friday Night Lights and Tim Riggins is convincing Lyla to attend her cheerleading completion even though Jason is paralyzed and there’s José González setting the mood with his song Storm. That was nine years ago. The world, my world has gone through some serious upheaval but José González has stayed the same. He’s still singing the best cover of The Knife’s Heartbeats and it’s just as soothing.
My friend A had an extra ticket to his show at the Fox last night because her boyfriend who lives in Indiana couldn’t make the trip trip after all. I think this is the kind of music you snuggle up to, at least that’s what everyone else in the audience was doing but A was gracious enough to announce, “I’m so glad I came out with you tonight” after he’d crooned his last tune. The music made me feel good nostalgic. I couldn’t tell you which songs were from his new album Vestiges & Claws (the first since 2007) because the music hasn’t changed at all.
My only problem with the concert was the fucked up girl next to me. Who gets fucked up at a José González concert? Maybe you fuck at a José González concert, but why consume copious amounts of alcohol/drugs on a mellow rainy Sunday night with a classical guitar, some violins, and a flute on stage? Fucked up girl kept screaming, “WooHoo” at the top of her lungs. Fucked up girl gobbled up two bags of chips. Fucked up girl passed out and made me crawl over her upon returning from the bathroom. Fucked up girl disappeared for a long time but her companion didn’t seem to want to miss any of the show and stayed put. On my way out I saw fucked up girl passed out in a different location with her companion nearby rolling his eyes.
I get upset and empathic when I see a fucked up girl at a show. I wonder if I should intervene, if she’s being taken care of? Still, this time wasn’t nearly as bad as when I saw a fucked up girl remove all of her clothing on a cold night on the lawn at Shoreline or another fucked up girl tumble head over heels down the concrete amphitheater stairs at the Greek in Berkeley.
Please fucked up girls, take care of yourselves and stop woo hooing in my ear when I’m trying to snooze at a José González concert.