MGMT

I bought two tickets for Rachel and I weeks ago for this gig. I had seen their video on MTV Deutschland and liked them immediately. It seemed like a revival of the energy of the sixties- creative, free, brightly-colored, a gigantic cat that a man could ride on, but without it sounding cheesy or pretentious. In fact, they are very sincere. So, Monday afternoon came and Rachel decided that, because she has a new puppy and she's concerned about her landlord finding out she has a dog in the building, she's spending the week in Augsburg...so, the ticket went to Luke who had been telling himself that he was going to buy his ticket for this show, but hadn't yet.

So on Monday after school, I got home, cleaned up a little bit and looked at stuff on the internet. Luke got home and we smoked. It was getting close to 8 and we realized we didn't have time to cook dinner, so we went out. We knew that the gig was on Sonnenstrasse, not 10 minutes-walk from our flat. So, we weren't worried about being late, considering most German gigs start late and have an opening act. We walked through the city talking about the usual petty item argued about I finally say stop talking about it, it's over. We kept walking past old Bavarian restaurant, including the Alteshackerhaus and the other place that's supposedly the oldest bierhall in Munich. We breeze past all of these, only to find ourselves at a place that I was a bit reluctant to go to. It's called Tuscado Moreno. We went there before and Rachel and Luke got steaks, I got chicken fajitas.

We sat outside and I could see the Altespeterkirche, or the Old St. Peter's Cathedral behind Luke. We stared at the menus for at least 10 minutes, ordered our beers and finally decided on the Tuscado Platter (or something like that). It included two spare ribs, two steaks, two pieces of Turkey, and two schwein steaks, plus potato wedges, home fries, grilled vegetables and two cobs of corn. I doubted our abilities to eat that much meat and still rock out at the gig. We ate and ate. By the end, all of the food was gone except half of the schwein and the mixed vegetables. I was full and content and not at all concerned about making it to the gig. I almost asked what time it was, until I looked up at the two enormous clocks on top of the church tower. It was almost 9 and the gig started at 8. Surely the supporting act would be over at this point.

We headed out in a hurry, still not sure exactly where the venue was. We walked down Sonnenstrasse, turned right and in that passage, completely devoid of people or music or anything except posters advertising MGMT playing in Georg Elserhalle at 9:30, we found the venue, 59 to1. We had just been there two nights ago for Vampire Weekend. We decided to take the train from Karlsplatz to Odeonsplatz, rather than Hauptbahnhof. Luke said that Hauptbahnhof was the work station, Karlsplatz is the concert station. Whatever. But first, we must smoke more. I told Luke we had plenty of time. It's only 9 o'clock now. "We're fine, don't worry!" We smoked and were out again in a flash. So we got on the train and played "spot the German." That's when you slyly point out people who are so obviously German you could spot them from a mile away. Including large mustaches (on both men and women), leather vests, jackets or hats, mullets, someone driving a BMW, etc. We got off the train feeling full and relaxed and bitched about the walk there. We passed the poster for the ManOwar gig that's coming up. With Ted Nugent, Whitesnake, Iron Maiden, etc. We got to the venue, the right venue, probably around 10 o'clock. There were tons of people standing around outside, drinking and smoking, there was no music playing and the house lights were on. Luke starts saying that we've missed it, "Gutted man, we missed it!" "I think it's just after the opening band, we're fine, we're fine" Which I'd been saying for over an hour. Like I said, I was full of food and unconcerned about actually making it to the gig. All of the meat and beer had left me in an apathetic euphoria. We got inside and it became clear that no one was actually leaving. We had made it. Righ--beers.
We got two cold beers which tasted great after walking for so long in the warm evening. That first one didn't last long enough, so right before the band went on, we got back in line for beers. The crowd was unusual like most indy gigs in Germany. You never really know who's going to show up. Old bikers with bad hair and tattoos, young hipsters, even younger teeny-boppers (there were a lot of them...but kudos for them for teeny-bopping a cool band). The house lights went out as Luke struggled to get any attention at the bar. I watched the barmaids take four full half-liter beers, lay four cups on the counter, spread out the four beers, putting a cup at the top of each one, lift and pour four perfect beers at the same time. That's worth the price of admission.

The band came on and started playing "Weekend Wars." The lead singer was dressed in a red lacy shirt/dress that was open at the chest revealing is lack of chest hair and his youth. He must have been 18 or19. The band had a good energy. Ben Goldwasser's eyes were piercing and intense, yet calm and placid as he sang his songs and played his guitar with equal ferocity and placidity. The music was loud, but it gave me a reason to relax and dance and smile as the endless possibilities of music opened in front of me. "Time to Pretend" came on and I rushed forward in the chaos of all of the young Germans dancing and pumping their fists. Germans might say something to you if you push in front of them, put they normally don't push back. It's usually quite easy to get to the front. I was standing, staring in awe at the lead singer, his Gibson Les Paul shining and brilliant in the stage lights. He looked like the ghost of some good-natured rock star from the sixties who worshiped Jimi Hendrix and channeled Jim Morrison but doing as naturally as if it were just a part of his nature.

The solos were spot on and face melting. "Handshake" was definitely a highlight for me. The whole show was great, revealing the potential of a band as fresh and untouched as a virgin in Alabama. Naive and clueless, yet focused and beautiful--a child of nature, a child of the 60's reborn in a time more like the 60's than any other decade since. A nation at war; people fighting of the right to marry unconventionally; a new, fresh presidential candidate at the forefront of a tumultuous and youth-driven election; the music industry collapsing in front of us and destroying everything we thought we knew about information and democratically spreading ideas more freely than ever. This is a time of flux, the difference being that it's not just change for America, but for the entire world. We're too connected as a human species to not be affected by everyone else. And the music brought that all back to me. This sense of connectedness with everyone and everything around me--lost in a guitar solo, sweating with a mass of humanity, swirling smiles and screaming teenagers, I saw it all. And then it was over. They ended the set with a club song. The two singers singing repetitively to a fixed beat, dancing and waving their arms on stage like Run DMC. The crowd went crazy and we danced until they left the stage.

Sweaty and pumped, we walked out. We both got outside and did the "Woah man! That was incredible!" thing and then we got more beer for the walk and train ride home. We went to the train station and got on the S-Bahn and realized that we were on the wrong train a second later. Fuck. We would have to wait at some shitty S-bahn station in bum-fuck Munich for like 10 minutes. We got off the train and stood in the florescent buzz of the silent station. No one was there. We decided to take the opportunity to walk on the train tracks. We tried to walk on the rails like a balance beam and laughed when we stumbled and fell onto the cross ties. The train finally came and we silently got on. We were taken down a notch by the boredom of the station, but still in high spirits. We rode back with our legs stretched out and our eyes glazed and staring fifteen miles away.

We got off at Karlsplatz feeling better to be back in the city and off the train. Luke suggested Burger King. I'm usually adamantly against fast food, but sometimes the power of suggestion overcomes my opposition. He wanted chicken nuggets, he got a chicken sandwich because they couldn't make chicken nuggets at 1 am. I noticed the pathetic looking man who plays the violin outside of the Burger King that I see everyday on my way to get groceries. He walked in the restaurant and went straight upstairs, ignoring the two chairs placed in front of the stairs to prevent people from going up. My curiosity about this man was growing. I too ignored the chairs and went up as well. I looked around and didn't see him. I looked around every corner and still no old man. I was on my way down and he came out of some back doorway, eyes downcast as always, ignoring me. I walked down the stairs feeling a little bit guilty for intruding on what little private space he has left in the world. I marveled at the tolerance of the Burger King, allowing him to come and go as he pleased, begging in front of their restaurant.

Luke and I and the chicken sandwich and the small Coke, started walking home. We finished the sandwich with about 3 bites each and went home. The magic was over and we were back in the boring flat with the Ikea furniture we hate and faced the reality of going to work the next day. It's hard living like a rockstar when you have to go to work everyday. We do our best though...and anyway, we're all "fated to pretend."