I Saw The Dandy Warhols
Last Friday night, Jan 28th, at the Roseland theater in Portland Oregon, I, after 6 years of fits and starts, finally defeating my curse, I saw the Dandy Warhols. For the first time. Ever. I owe it all not to my lengthy obsession or lame attempts at getting myself to a show but to my lovely lady Megan without whom I would never have been privy to the most thoughtful Christmas present ever. Thank you, thank you, thank you, xoxo. First, some perspective, and a warning that this is a long rambling blog, I kid you not.
So, I’ve been a Dandy’s fan for some time, 6 years I said. I was introduced to them inadvertently by the KEXP concert calendar. John in the Morning changes the background music for the concert calendar about every 3 or 4 months. 6 years ago he changed it to Good Morning, a Dandy’s song. After a few days of being in the background I found myself firing off an email to ask just what band I was hearing. I immediately bought The Dandy Warhols Come Down and fell in love, so in love that I bought Rule OK, their prior album. Where had I been, how could both these albums slip by me? So good, so rocking, so delicious was their sound that I vowed to go see a show. And thus, a curse was born.
I have to admit that I was constantly trying to find a local Dandy’s show to go see but I wasn’t killing myself over it. Nonetheless, every time a Dandy’s show came to town or played in Portland I had already made plans for something else, or was trapped on a business trip, or was lost in translation, not paying attention to their concert schedule. Sadly, the Dandy’s became so much more popular in Europe than the states that they began playing overseas. Buying a ticket to London, Bonn or Paris was soon becoming my only avenue to the Dandy Warhols. Enter DJ Dawn.
Megan once worked with a very fine person, Dawn, at a PR firm years ago. They’ve kept in touch since parting ways, Megan staying in Seattle, Dawn in Portland. Last year, after the Seattle-to-Portland ride, Megan made plans to have brunch with this old friend. Dawn was, as the French say, beaucoup cool. She was a hip Portlandite, a DJ and able to lead us to an awesome brunch spot. I had just ridden 210 miles on my bicycle, I was hungry. As I always do when meeting someone from Portland, I ask if they know the Dandy Warhols. Mind you that I’ve met others who knew the Dandy Warhols, but none of them ever got me close to either them, a show or their personal homes. Not that I’m a stalker, I would only take a picture and put it in my diary. No, Dawn was different. She had a friend who worked for them, Lady Lisa. Could this be it, could Lady Lisa be the in I’ve always needed? Perhaps perhaps. I begged, pleaded and cried like a 5 year old in front of Dawn, asking that she hook me up, someday, somehow. She said she would try. Leaving Portland I realized that I forgot to buy her breakfast. Doomed I felt, doomed for sure.
Six months went by with me only annoying Dawn once or twice to remind her of The Promise. My jests were never threatening, merely pleading, a beggar for some Dandys. Suddenly Christmas comes around, that time of year when Megan and I try to outdo each other with the most thoughtful present we can find. Keep in mind that money isn’t the object, it’s finding and remembering that one thing that the other really wants, or might want, or that you just really hope to god that they want. She won this year, and most likely for all years to come. That December I had all but forgot about the Dandy Warhols, lost in the confusion of a new job, new house, Holiday shopping and too many cocktail parties to remember. Christmas morning brought me a huge smile and a preface from Megan… “I really hope you like.” What could this be, what amazing present lied within the small round mailing tube she just handed me? I slowly opened it, mentally trying to figure out just what was inside but the tube beat me to it. Inside was a rolled up concert poster…for the Dandy Warhols.
I blurt out “We’re going to the Dandy Warhols!!!! We’re going to the ….” but Megan replied “No, err maybe, just look at the poster.” After a closer look I realize it’s dated 2003, causing me to blurt out “wait, the show is over!” Ever patient she says again “no silly, look at the poster.” Only then do I realize that someone has written on it, written on my fabulous poster. I’m about to scream this epiphany when I finally get it, the poster was signed. Signed by the Dandy Warhols, all of them. Courtney, Zia, Brent and Pete. Courtney even took the time to write a message, a simple “Troy, thanks for digging our tunes, take care.” Perhaps the greatest sentence in history. It was at this point I conceded to Megan that she had not only procured the most thoughtful present ever, taught me a lesson in how to pick such presents but also that I was about to pass out. She should get me some water.
Another package contained a Dandy Warhols t-shirt, dark blue, medium, perfect fit. Lastly, she let me in on the fact that she had conspired with Portland’s DJ Dawn and Lady Lisa to make this happen. They had been there when this poster was signed, in person, by the Dandys. Yes, my poster had been touched by their hands. She had also gotten us on their ‘first call’ list. It’s a top-secret, high security database listing the name and phone number of those fortunate to be notified of when and where the Dandys will play next. Thoughts of a direct link directly into the lair of the Dandys bounced through my head. Again suppressing another outburst and the urge to pass out, I thanked her in as many ways as I could see fit. We continued on with our holidays, me keeping my zeal to a minimum in front of others who wouldn’t understand. Now I was waiting, waiting for the day, waiting for the one true day.
On Monday, January 24th, the email arrived. The Dandy Warhols would be putting on a show, a Tsunami benefit show that Friday, the 28th, in Portland, at the Roseland theater. Could we come down? Is my hair blond? Hell yes we would come, no question, we would drop everything in order to come down. Of course there’s a always a snag, or a curse to get in the way. We already had dinner plans and Megan had an all day retreat the next morning. Getting out of dinner was not such an issue (thank you so much Steve, Jane and Tamra for letting me off the hook). However Megan, the always giving of her time to non-profits person that she is, couldn’t break her early Saturday morning retreat. It had been planned months in advance and, even if we decided to return the next morning at 5:30AM, she would be in no shape to do her job. We tried to figure out a way but in the end, she let me go it alone. Not that I would be alone at the show, just sans the person who made it happen. It sucked eggs but, nonetheless, I would be going. Nothing without sacrifice.
I drove to work on January 28th, leaving the office later than I expected, around 5:30PM, still in the hopes of getting to Portland in time. On the way down I made the mistake of eating a Whopper at Burger King. In my pre-Dandy’s excitement, I lost all sense and ate a huge hamburger. By the time I reached Portland, to my surprise, at 9PM, I was stuffed like a pig. A phone call after parking near the theater led me to DJ Dawn. She and her friends had staked out seats at a dive of a sushi bar that had closed down for the night. As she introduced me to everyone I took special care to profusely thank Lady Lisa, the one who touches the Dandys on a daily basis, literally I hope.
The sushi chefs were in a sour mood and it took 10 minutes just to find a waiter who would bring us a beer. At one point I thought DJ Dawn was going to pick a fight with one of them but she helf back. This lady is tough. Our beer arrived, we toasted the Dandys and slammed the drinks. When DJ Dawn suggested we pound the rest and order another, “just to make sure”, I knew I had found the right host. Still I complained about the quarter pounder in my stomach, I had never been so full. DJ Dawn even asked me what I was thinking eating at Puker King. To this day I still don’t know.
Once the chefs started waving their knives at us we took heed and ran out the door, heading down to the Roseland. At this point I think started to babble like a 6 year old. I apologize to my Portland hosts, I don’t think I quit babbling until the following Tuesday. Yet it was beyond me to stop, I was just so excited. The Roseland security force uses cops and metal detectors at the front door. My female sentry was so excited to see the USB flash drive on my key chain that she completely forgot to frisk me. Thank you. We checked coats and immediately DJ Dawn had lost her ticket. As I would learn throughout the night, she sometimes misplaces things. Not knowing this at the time my mind raced…would I give my ticket to her to get her in? As terror crept into my mind, the curse about to rear it’s head, she found her ticket back at the coat check counter, in her pocket. We walked up the stairs, handed over our tickets and finally were inside.
I liked the Roseland, it was home to me. Any place the Dandys would is going to be home to me. Since the Dandys wouldn’t be on for another hour or two it was time to drink. DJ Dawn, Diana the German and myself made our way to the upstairs hot and sweaty bar and juiced up. But what to drink? At a Tom Waits concert I drink Old Crow, at a Rolling Stones concert Geritol, what should I drink now? When in doubt, tequila. It was terrible, served in a plastic cup, poured to the top, pure heaven, the Ritalin of my easier college years. Dawn harassed me into handing out flyers for a show she was putting on the next weekend with DJ Sandra Collins. My attempts were futile, I’m not nearly as hot as Dawn and my schpeal that Sandra was really my sister and I needed people to fill up her gig just didn’t work. In the end I put most of them up in the mens bathroom, which was very large and comfortable I must mention.
Brian, Lisa and I chatted it up for a while. They’re cool cool, true original Portlandites, much as I’m a true Seattle-ite. They both offered to take me backstage but I had to refuse. First, on the grounds that I’d act like a 13 year old, freezing up, not making eye contact and likely to blurt out something entirely stupid. I do that anyways, I know, but with the added pressure of seeing the Dandys in person, up close, it would be surely bad. Plus what if they didn’t like me, or I spilled something on them? Secondly, they’re rock stars, I think I just wanted to keep them that way. Meeting them would take them off the pedestal of untouchability, and I just couldn’t do that. It was the most gracious offer ever and I felt bad saying no, but I had to. Whimper!
As we waited the lead singer of the Decembrists played a solo folk set. He was amazing, I love his voice. 15 minutes into his set I was about to fall asleep, folk music does that to me. 15 minutes later he was off the stage. We ran downstairs, checking out stage left and stage right. People had already taken over the front so we stayed near the right. Luckily we found Lisa and Brian hanging out there as well. It was only fitting. Checking my pockets I found earplugs and toothpaste. I would need neither, earplugs at my first Dandys show would be sacrilege. 10 minutes later they came on stage. Finally, at last, the Dandy Warhols. Courtney is way skinnier than I thought, Zia just as cute, Pete as blond and Brent, man I want that hair. At this point I have to admit to something. All week long I had been listening to every Dandys album, including the Black Album, over and over. As I listened I imagined just what I would say if, perhaps, they asked me what my favorite song was? Or perhaps, what song would they want me to play first? Or perhaps my top 3 songs? Sitting there on stage, me looking at them, I know it’s just coincidence, but they started with my first request, Ride. Yes, Ride, loud and hard, my favorite, I think, they’re all so good. After that it’s hard to remember but I do know they played Boys Better, Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth, We Used To Be Friends and The Last High. I ate it up, everything, couldn’t have been happier, nothing they could have done to ruin my high. Of course I had to pee at one point but refused to go. Dawn actually said something to me like “Jesus stupid, go and pee!” but still I refused, until I thought I would die. Despite my fears the Dandys were still there when I returned. For their last song they played something off the new album they’re recording. It’s early stuff, early. And then it was over. 45 minutes of rocking with the Dandys.
Again, at this point, I’ll probably have to apologize to the Portland crew. I really was on cloud nine, I doubt I quit talking for the next 10 hours, all of which I spent being drug around Portland’s night life. It’s definitely a bit of a haze at this point. I do remember seeing a sunrise, visiting at least one club, trying to make Dawn explain beat matching, extolling the virtues of Mexican fish tacos, making fun of the wrong persons dog, getting very lost in the back seat of a Jetta and mindlessly filling every other minute with talk of the Dandys. Great town and an especially great crew. Sophia, Gonzalo, Dave, Tania, Paul, Mike, Heather and, oh no, who am I forgetting? Kelly, Lisa, Brian, who else? I hope I’ve forgot none of them. It was quite a night to remember but the Mexicans just won’t give it all back. No worries, we’ll play repeat sometime soon, maybe even in Seattle. Until then.