From all atop the parapets blow a multitude of coronets!

Traveling to Boston is a joy mostly because it's so easy. $15, four hours, I'm in another legendary and mythical locale of the Northeast. On the ride up I read the book I Know You're Out There by Michael Beaumier, which I got for free at The Late Show last fall. I also slept and listened to my favorite Decemberists jams since, you know, that's why I was making this trek. Thoughts of chimbley sweeps, infantas, shanties, bayonets, muskets, and ferocious whales all danced through my mind as I drifted in and out of an uncomfy slumber.

I met up with Dave in the early afternoon after arriving and we had a lovely lunch of Thai food. I wanted to scope out the venue and see what the waiting situation was going to be like. I always get to general admission concerts early since my lack of inches height-wise makes it hard to view anything if I'm not up front, clutching the metal barrier or stage itself. 4:30, ticket says 7:00, and already 30+ people in line. High school kids. The curse of an all ages show, kids with nothing better to do on a Saturday that wait outside for well over three hours. I can't tease, really, since I was like this once and still am, the difference being as the concerts I attend restrict their patrons strongly due to age, the number of people over 21 willing to wait long stretches of time is significantly smaller.

I sat outside until 6, reading, talking on the phone, and listening to the iPod. Upon entering I found myself about four standing rows back. Not bad but not up to the standards I'm used to, especially since this meant there would be four rows of people potentially blocking my view of Mr. Meloy and his merry band. There was a quartet of Frat Douches directly in front of me who would, from time to time, attempt to talk to the couple standing next to them who with which they were also associated. This couple, very James Franco/Busy Phillips from "Freaks & Geeks," made out continuously for the hour and a half until the opening group took the stage. During this time, I got to become very familiar with the Frat Douches.

Decemberist Douche - Knew everything about the band and pointed out how much acid they say they were on while recording "Perfect Crime #1." Acid or absinyth, not sure. He spoke with an annoyingly deep nasal voice and was very into and adamant about such pretty and mellow acoustic ditties.

RA Douche - The douche in front of me who, due to the crowd confines, spent some of the night having my chin on his shoulder. He told stories about his RA exploits and how he didn't bail on helping a drunk girl even though she wasn't hot. He then put his iPod on Picaresque and hippie danced for a good half hour, shoving the other half of his ear bud into the other Douches' ears in a "Hey, I'm listening to 'The Infanta'! Cool, huh?!" kinda way.

DMB Douche - The guy obviously drug along with his three Douches, his defining quote being "This place isn't as packed as when Sublime played." I don't know what decade this guy was living in. He put his iPod on and listened to some Dave Matthews Band, mislabeled DMB with song titles not corresponding to their albums and album artwork arranged all willy nilly. He kept pretty quiet.

Pot Douche - This guy spent the ninety minutes carving a hole in the bottom of his lighter with a pocket knife so he could "store ANYTHING" in it while also going over the details of all the pot the four of them were going to smoke that night. He also shared a video on his cell phone of two girls making out. After watching this, the four douches high fived each other.

Concert going is a weird experience. The music that you go to a concert to hear is, for the most part, private. You listen to these songs alone, you sing along alone, you love them alone, you internalize them, you apply all sorts of meaning and memories to these songs. They become yours. Then you go to a concert and stand behind people who slur the words to "We Both Go Down Togther" while passing imaginary orbs and talking about all the pot they're going to smoke during the show. You have to wonder if they're hearing the same song as you. Guess not.

The opening act, My Brightest Diamond, was decent. The woman was overwhelmingly charismatic and had a lovely voice, very Regina Spektor-y in my opinion. She later came out and sang the female part to "Yankee Bayonet." After the opening act, a pack of sidlers made their way next to me with every intention of breaking through and getting to the front. The cramped conditions finally got to them and they realized that they were now fourth-row dwellers next to me. Fine. But the Frat Douches decided to take a stand and started rigidly pushing everyone behind them backwards, doubling the already generous amount of space they had. This irritated me and led me to tell the sidlers that if they wanted to get up front, they should come in front of me and shove these guys out of the way since they were being rude. The James Franco/Busy Phillips couple looked at me with a mix of shock and loathing.

The douches were not only going to hippie dance, sully my songs and smoke loads of marijuana, they were going to kill me.

The show started and I tried to not interact with anyone and, once Colin Meloy came onstage, it was all right. The band opened with "Oceanside" and then went into "The Island," all 12 minutes of it. This was a highlight, with the band switching instruments for the last bit of it and creating such a beautiful atmosphere. Colin is a superb showman, stomping furiously and marching during "The Island" and instructing the audience to sing along at all possible moments. He plays to the audience, gets on his knees while playing the guitar with his teeth, and is downright hilarious in-between songs. The band did an impromptu jam which Colin dubbed "The Chris Funk Theme." He then did multiple versions of the theme, each with a different mood that Chris Funk (the guitarist) acted out. "All of those moods included the bottle of wine, I noticed" Colin said of Chris' characters. Someone in the audience yelled for them to do a ska version, and after doing so Colin noted that they were "really good at ska."

The best moment came during "16 Military Wives" where Colin parted us like the Red Sea (leaving a strip of bare floor down the center of the audience), instructed us to introduce ourself to the person across from us, give them a glare, sneer, and then led us in the last "la-de-da-de-da" part of the song. My side did not win, no matter how hard I tried.

"The Mariner's Revenge Song" was also a joy; a giant papier mache whale ate the band. Great!

Setlist (not in order)
Oceanside
Grace Cathedral Hill
The Island: Come & See/ The Landlord's Daughter/You'll Not Feel The Drowning
Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)
O Valencia!
The Perfect Crime #2
Shankill Butchers
Summersong
The Crane Wife 1
Sons & Daughters
The Infanta
16 Military Wives
The Mariner's Revenge Song

Seems short but you have to remember that two of these songs took up nearly a third of the concert. The Frat Douches, after all, did not sing along, dance poorly, or even smoke anything. They were all talk. Losers.

I love youtube. There are already videos from the show.

Mariner's Revenge Song


O Valencia!


Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)


I can't wait to see The Decemberists again in July. Yes...yes...