The Pogues, Mar. 17, 2009, Washington, DC

in_line_200903Amanda and Steve drove up from Richmond, and we went to see this band. A&S have seen them several times before, but it was the first time for me. After meeting at Duffy’s, an Irish Bar, across from the 9:30 Club, we walked a couple of blocks over to U Street to eat first. We rejected several Ethiopian restaurants–there’s a real glut of them on this street, but we found a pretty good deal at The Saloon–steak dinner for $9.95. It was just a thin sirloin, but we thought it was a pretty good deal.
The line at the club wasn’t too bad, but we got there a half hour before the doors opened. First problem–they wanted everybody to show their ID. Hello, I’m really, really, older than 21, so I figured I had to force them to acknowledge the fact without me embarrassing myself by actually having to show my drivers license. Some things in life just cannot be tolerated. So, I pulled out my OU ID, from 1973. The “enforcer” was completely buffaloed. She asked me where the birth date was listed, and I just responded that I promise I’m older than 21. After glancing at her supervisor and getting the nod, she relented.
balcony_200903Up to the balcony we went, and because it was so early, we got a fantastic spot, practically on top of the band and over to the side.
Second problem. After watching everybody else filter in over the next hour, and listening to the recorded music prior to the show, I was extremely unprepared for the tidal wave of sound that blasted us when the band started up. It was literally, like an earthquake. The band was really, really good, and I enjoyed it, but I finally had to resort to wadding up paper towels and stuffing them in my ears. Much better.
The lead singer acted like he was drunk the whole time–you can see him here leaning on a table while singing. It appears that he’s just talking to someone in a bar–until you see that he’s holding a mic, and he’s on stage. he also couldn’t seem to stand very long, because he’d take a break after every couple of songs. I wonder if it could be related to the fact that he smoke the entire time? Hmmmm.
A&S were perfect hosts–they made sure no one crowded up behind us and took away the old man’s seat so I could sit periodically. And when we left, I was coming down the stairs, bracing myself on the banister, when a young kid comes up from below on my side of the stairs and refuses to move over. Amanda shouts at him “move over.” He does, mumbling, “whatever,” as he passed me. That’s my girl.

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