Tag Archives: mogwai

Mogwai – The Hawk Is Howling

One thing people must understand is that while these guys are a Scottish good time gal soundtrack for football (meaning soccer) games playing in the background while everyone gets knackered (meaning drunk) and a wee (meaning small) bit sad (meaning sadness), in America they’re the soundtrack to a prom night afterparty that never, ever ends. Prom night is very important to people, even people who hated the whole idea of proms, or went to alternative proms, or never went to the prom.

There’s an emotional attachment to the whole concept, except maybe in all-boy Catholic schools, but priest-bait training grounds probably have their own soundtracks and “edgy” literature provided by G. K. Chesterton. For the rest of the normals, proms are a kind of last hurrah, perhaps one of the last surviving transitional ritual spaces left in American culture, where boys become men and girls become women, even though it’s still just children dancing in the dark to whatever is floating in the musical atmosphere at the time. Continue reading

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Mogwai + Fuck Buttons @ Terminal 5

“AH’M AHN EPILEPTEEEK!”

“AH’M AHN EPILEPTEEEK!”

The short drunk Scot (“a wee cunt”?) next to us continually mooed this particular phrase for a good ten minutes before lapsing. Theories abound as to why, but I’m no expert. Hell, I’ve barely seen more than 20 minutes of Braveheart. Maybe it’s an attempt to compensate for the overall dourness of the Brit with a peppy, can-annoy attitude. Maybe he had his kibbles fondled by a soccer* coach as a child. Perhaps he has a tiny penis that, even when excited, can barely be seen from six inches away.

We will never know.

Joe had a good point during the cab ride back – such things are part and parcel of the “live experience”; crowds of people, in addition to being a slew of crowdy, pushy bastards, tend to do things like that. But it just seemed like last night’s crowd was shittier than usual, from the pushy young ladies who are too young, pretty or short to punch, to the short guys and the old guys respectively – or in combination. I’d hate to see these guys at a Low show; it’d be a bloodbath!

Maybe I was just cranky? I don’t think so, because Fuck Buttons rocked my socks off. Continue reading

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