twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go

I've been eyeing the Old 97s shows (tonight, tomorrow, Saturday) on Songkick for weeks now, but didn't jump on getting tickets since I figured they'd be playing the new album, which I don't love.

But I looked at the venue website anyway, and oh holy god. I didn't realize they're doing a 15th anniversary commemorative concert for possibly (probably? maybe? OK YES LET'S GO WITH YES) my favorite album. The actual description of the show is '"Too Far to Care" played in its entirety plus an additional set of other fan favorites.' Dead. I have died.



HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?! I would have been nauseous for weeks if I'd missed this.

Soooooo, in 24 hours, I'll be hearing, live at the El Rey, performed by a man whose hip thrusts put Elvis to shame, Niteclub, Salome, Timebomb, Big Brown Eyes, Great Barrier Reef, and the song that plays cat's cradle with my heartstrings, Curtain Calls.

I'm going dateless, because a) I'm single, duh, and b) my girlfriends don't rock the cowpunk. So if anyone wants to join me, I'll be the girl pressed flat against the stage, smiling and singing so hard her cheeks and throat hurt, and presenting her cleavage to Mr. Stewart Ransom Miller as if t'were frankincense and he were baby Jesus himself.


I've got a 2/2 record for scoring concert memorabilia (I snagged the track list at a show in SF and Ken handed me - HANDED ME! - his pick after a show at The Music Box last year), so wish me luck!