I Heart The Vaselines

Sometimes I feel really old. Like at The Thermals a few weeks ago. The audience seemed to be comprised of 20% my friends and acquaintances, 80% kids having their first beers, and in the case of one specific dingus, a round of Liquid Cocaine. Awesome. Misplaced moshing, dumbass antics; I'm so not interested. So, even though the band was great and it was mostly a good time, I spent a significant chunk of the show being irritated.

I don't go to half - or even a quarter - as many shows as I used to for just that reason: I don't want to be irritated at an event that should be fun. I generally chalk it up to getting older and decreasing patience, but The Vaselines show on Friday night proved that it's not true.

Lee's wasn't packed the other night (which could be explained by the relatively steep ticket price), but there was a respectable crowd. People were excited. There was a singalong element (the likes of which I haven't heard since the first time I saw Billy Bragg at the Concert Hall), which sort of bugs me, but was also understandable because their songs are fun to sing and, honestly, who ever thought that we would ever get to see them?

But there they were: Frances McKee and Eugene Kelly. After almost 20 years of non-existence, they've reunited for some shows in support of their new Sub Pop collection. They walked on stage and started singing "Son of a Gun." Hearts melted. I swear I smiled from that moment until the next morning. The crowd was ebullient and respectful. Frances was sassy; Eugene's belt was adjusted so as not to scratch his guitar. There were some dipshits calling requests -- really, did you think they wouldn't sing "Molly's Lips"? But that's a minor complaint.

Adding to my personal excitement of seeing Frances and Eugene in person (I never even saw Eugenius for some dumb reason) was having Stevie Jackson play guitar. When I glimpsed him standing behind Brad during the opening act, I got giddy in a way I rarely get. My cheeks flushed. For real. Yes, I'm a grown woman who has met a lot of musicians throughout my life, but Stevie is one of my favourite guitar players (that snapping wrist action = yum!) and he's a glasses-wearing, curly brown haired Scottish musician. What's better, really?

It felt good to know that I'm not entirely a crankypants and that fun can still be had around strangers. Thanks, Vaselines!