seattle freeze. a vent. and a burn. (not for the easily offended)

I finally decided to brave the bumper-to-bumper traffic I've resigned myself to since moving to Seattle and persuaded myself that it's time to get out. I moved here, time to see some of it.

After browsing various websites with event and music listings and coming up relatively devoid of any interest in anything, I decided to go out with a friend out to the "Neptune Theater" to listen to a band. It's a college scene, decent band, great people watching. After paying the exorbitant "$15 cover" that is so standard for crappy live music out West, I entered a pretty cool setup for a show. It's an old theater that that has an interesting history, http://stgpresents.org/neptune/history.asp. The walls and bathrooms have stained glass depictions of Neptune. It's a great space.

My friend and I settle in to my standard behavior at this point… which is, establish a vantage point in an inconspicuous place and watch. Instantaneously, I felt like an alien to earth or a human amongst aliens. Either way, these people are nothing like me.. The men have long hair, women with short, no one with a natural color or length. Men wear tank tops with stupid phrases, women wear some variation of a throwback style like plaid shirt as a dress with a belt and keds. I leaned over to my friend and said, "I feel like I'm at a costume party in which whoever has the absolute least cool clothes on is instantly the coolest person, which automatically makes them uncool." Which, as I thought about that concept more, made me think that I, in my unstylish old navy jeans from college (early 2000s) and t-shirt and running shoes, may very well have been both the most and least cool person there at the same time.

Anyway, re-focus to the music. This was by far the worst music I have inflicted upon myself for quite some time. The opener was a combo of 3 skinny asexual men(?) and one woman(?)… The men were on guitar, bass, and drums. The woman was a lumpy, round women wearing a black bra under a lace shirt with a black tights and strappy brown sandals.

Crap, I'm focusing on the clothes again. Sorry. This is atypical for me, but it was so distracting!

They proceeded to play about 15 songs made up of 3 chords in the background of a continuous howling, shrieking whine that just wouldn't let up. I think they call this "indie" or "emo." Whatever it is, it's horrific.

So I tuned it out, having paid $15 to get in, I decided to get a beer and continue to people watch. Note: PBR can $4. Everything else: too expensive to consider. Note #2: And if you are one of the evil people exercising your legal right to drink alcohol while listening to a concert in Seattle, apparently you have to stand behind this gated security fence with only one entrance. Oh, and you can't leave this area once you've bought a drink. There is also a sign referring to the fact that they will not "overserve" in case you were thinking about having more than you should… Thankfully, this didn't bother me as much as it would have… but I've already been to a few shows in Seattle so the initially *sting* of infuriation is now only a passing shiver of indignation.. knowing well that I will soon be home where such absurdities would be dismissed in an instant.

Anyway, so I go behind bars with the rest of the "old people" and stare down at all the kids who are high out of their minds and wearing ridiculous costumes. One captures my interest who is wearing a sort of tan-colored egyptian headdress, thick black eye makeup, deep red lipstick, a short cotton dress, and then the ever-classic combo of hooker stockings with flat bright yellow converse shoes. I notice her, not because of the outfit because it was one amongst many of such outfits, but because of her pacing. She paced back and forth to all 4 corners of the room. Outside and back in. She'd only stand in one place for a total of about 5 min each, checking her phone everywhere a few times.. presumably to give the subtle hint that she was waiting for someone to meet her any minute. It was clear, though, that this poor costumed girl was hopelessly alone and lonely. Both seeking attention and seeking to blend in at the same time. I nudged my friend to go talk to her. He passed the wand to me saying that I was more her type. I fantasized about pick-up lines I could use, such as "I like your head."

I crack myself up.

Back to the music. Finally, the main band is up. Composed of all men, 3 boyish men who appear to be desperate and emaciated heroin addicts and 1 fat older guy who appears to have a wife and 3 kids at home and sneaks in to do this after his job at Microsoft. Good thing, too, as he's the only one with much talent. They too --as do all these NW people -- have spent an inordinate amount of energy on creating the ugliest hair and shoes possible. To become just cool enough while carefully making sure they are not the "coolest."

I left the show thinking they should shave their heads, go barefoot, and instead spend a bit more time on their music.

This morning, I was feeling a little guilty about my Seattle-bash session. After all, so many people love this city! There must be something interesting that will appeal to me. I just need to keep trying. I pick up the locals event newspaper Seattle Weekly to check things out…

The headline this week is "Reverb 2011." All about Seattle's local music scene and an upcoming festival! Perfect! I dig in. And what do I find? But an homage to Nirvana, tears over the lost 90's, and relentless self-bashing with regards to the current music scene. Awesome.

If you think I'm exaggerating, let me list a few quotes out of Seattle's own Seattle Weekly.

This question was posed to some local musicians: "What's the Seattle Sound of 2011?"

-answer "If I hear another song about a goddamn cat, I am pulling the plug on the Seattle music scene."

-answer "Earnest white man gazes longingly into the sunset but doesn't have the balls to kill himself like Ernest Hemingway."

Here's another excerpt:

"How did grunge music turn into lame-ass indie music in just 10 years?"

-answer "The transition from grunge to indie was a very natural evolution based on a simple Northwest principle: Whatever is cool is instantly uncool, forever. Indie rock was initially performed with so little enthusiasm that it qualified as a massive art installation: a whimpering sound in the darkness accompanied by a boring lecture on gender neutrality while someone licked a xylophone."

Hmph. Interesting. The locals better articulated my discontent than I was able to myself! And with such similar themes of hatred!

As always, I am unwell with change. I always lament the loss of my most recent past. I'm sure I will learn to love this place in its way in a year or two… But it's certainly as clear as it ever was to me that New Orleans is just way better. More true. More real. More talented. The true irony of my situation is that I am moving to these places to experience new and different for the sake of new and different. Grow. Learn. Unfortunately, I am finding that few places have the same rich maturity and solid identity that New Orleans has. They are all stuck in an awkward adolescence, trying to discover their identity via experimentation and coming up short and lost. In the case of Salt Lake, they are adolescents who have a confused stance on the role of religion in their lives… In the case of Seattle, are they corporate sellouts or angry hippies who hate corporate america? Do you want to be "green" or sit in your damned SUV in traffic for 16 hours to get 5 miles away because there is no valid alternative? Do stupid clothes that make you stand out really make you feel better? Is it really worth all that effort? If I tattoo my entire arm, will that make me cooler than every other person with an entirely tattooed arm? Or less cool? Enter: 7th grade.

Truthfully, I'm just too damned old for that. I know exactly who I am and where I belong. I just didn't realize it before I moved away.