hipster high-kicks.

Sometimes Justin and I buy concert tickets without thinking things through, or without consulting each other first. Which is fine, as they say "When in Rome!" Which also means we have to drive 2-hours away in the middle of a work week to see said concert. Which is also fine. When in Rome. So Tuesday I left work early and we journeyed up to Los Angeles to see one of our new favorite bands Alt-J.

Oh you haven't heard of them?

Just kidding. I won't hipster you. Rather, I'd very much like to share Alt-J with you because they are quite spectacular. And in the fashion of one of my other favorite bands (BONNIE BEAR), you can't understand a damn word they are saying. In a good way, naturally.

Because they are such a different type of music, I was really curious as to what type of crowd would be there. The short answer? LOS ANGELES. 

First of all. We really in all seriousness might have been the oldest people present. I had no idea that the kids would be into this cool of music these days. It seemed mature to me, I guess? But yes, we in fact we the only mature folks present at this venue.

Secondly, we had entered hipster nation. Fine. So we are dealing with a mass of young hipster Los Angelenos, what could go wrong? Nothing went particularly wrong. HOWEVER. I spent 85% of the show distracted by two individuals. I shall call them NUMBER ONE FAN and the Stripster-Hipster.

You guys. YOU KNOW how much I love people and the things they do to unknowingly entertain me. THESE TWO WERE GOLD. Maybe I pre-partied a little too hard. Or maybe they really just had gold running through their veins. Either way, I WAS IN HEAVEN.

NUMBER ONE FAN, NOF for short and yes all in caps-lock because he lived in caps-lock, was the tallest person in the entire crowd. Yes, taller than me. Ya dicks. We were in the upper balcony/old-folks zone so I had a great view of the sea of youngsters below us. And when the openers starting playing NOF went HAM. He was the singular person in the steadily growing crowd that rocked his huge heart out to each and every song. The singular person fist-pumping to every song. And when Alt-J came out, HE HAD TRIANGLE SIGNS (Tesselate is one of their big hits...so triangles...you get it, you do). I lived for him and those triangle signs.

Stripster-Hipster. I don't even know where to begin. From my vantage point, she appeared to be on the younger end of the young-kids crowd. And she danced. AND DANCED. And thrusted. And flipped her hair. And then, to cap off my entire night, she added high-kicks to her routine. HIGH KICKS. Soon a young gentleman joined her (because most of her friends had walked away) in the high-kicking stripper hipster dance routine along the safety barriers and I was practically jumping up and down cheering them on. I mean if Alt-J calls for ANY kind of stripper dancing it is definitely the high-kicks.

Like proper old folks we left early as not to get caught in traffic because old people hate traffic more than anything. And although we were beat the next day, a two-hour drive to LA to see a really, really rad band and the hipster groupies that love them was totally worth it.