misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

Because i'm a totally spontaneous and fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type of guy, who just grabs life by the balls and absolutely refuses to let go, like a testicular bulldog, I broke a rule last night and went to a live "rock" concert at Roseland Theater on 52nd street. Ever hear of The Fratellis? Me either. But Charlie had free tickets, and VIP passes, so I cleaned out my ears and rolled on up. My problem with live music, in addition to thinking the bands never sound quite as good as they do on their CDs, has always been the crowds. Sitting in a sea of people, no matter who was on stage (short of a reunion tour between Jesus, Mohammed, Buddah, and Krishna), has never appealed to me. The VIP passes do a bit to change that, though, as you get access to an area with few people in it, and a chance to sit down. It makes live concerts more enjoyable- though, I can still confidently say i'm still not a "rock" music fan, and never envision myself being one. The whole culture of rock has always been in conflict with my own interests ... Long, Ratty Hair vs. Shaved Heads Electric Guitars vs. Rhythmic Beats, Skateboarding vs. Basketball, Black Jeans vs. White Tanktops, Decal Stickers vs. Graffiti, Cigarettes vs Weed, Lake Havasu Houseboats vs. Montego Bay Villas, Ford Mustangs vs. Cadillac Escalades, Doc Martin Boots vs. Nike Air Force Ones, Rum punch vs. well, Rum punch, Dragonhair vs. Workmonkey ...

By the time the show was over, I mingled among the other rock fans, Budweiser in hand, discussing whether Fender guitars were better than Gibsons, and how to keep your tight jeans black for as long as possible. I then left the concert hall and hugged the first black guy to walk by. Keep the beats coming, I told him. And stay away from guitars.

I then walked into a bar, ordered a bottle of Courvoisier, and drank all of the rock out of me. The Fratellis may be a great band, but until they change their name to Da Fratellis, I'll be sticking with my hip-hop.