The daily adventures and travails of one neurotic, klutzy, hungry, cynical college girl. Tune in for prizes! (offer void where prohibited. See office for details. Not responsible for lost articles.)
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Wednesday, January 25, 2006
It's hard to explain how cute Imogen Heap is, without witnessing, personally, her dazzling concert. She is adorable and talented and delightful to a degree that reverses me to childhood.
I remember when I first found out about Imogen. Sidebar- How cute is her name? She calls herself "immi" which, as a palindrome, is also pinchably cute, but Imogen Heap is one of the best unique names that wasn't created after birth. Got that? I know, I'm babbling, but I have 20 min before work closes.
I looked at pictures and listened to music and all that jazz, but in my mind, for some reason, I pictured a chain-smoking, sneering slag who threw empty beer cans out her 1984 Civic, parked in a rest stop just outside of Toledo, OH. Super awesome on vocals, but bitter and snobby. I'm glad I was schooled. She's like a ladybug. Unexpectedly beautiful and a rare symbol of goodness all around.
She dances like your best friend in the 4th grade who taught you not to look in the mirror when grooving to oldies hits. She mixes beats and tempos like the dreams you've had where the music was perfect and indescribable, making it both achingly valuable and unattainable. When she hit her high notes, and her lights sparked up like Fourth of July, or the Disneyland carnival, I was ready to drop everything and hit the road for her. She dresses like your imaginary nanny or Amy Palladino from "Gilmore Girls." And why is it that when London girls speak, it's so cute that anything that comes out of their mouth is instantly golden? She could have mumbled "lick my dirty cunt, you filthy pig people" and I would have leaned my head sideways and awwed.
I love Imogen, she loves me.
On the negative note, why does the El Rey place handicapped audience members along the back wall, thereby ensuring their difficult vision during the show? I was happy to move along, but that's just poor planning. Also, once we moved, we stood next to 3 of the plainest, meanest, most unoriginal bitches I've ever stood next to in concert. A true example of what happens when you can't see someone else's happiness as a good thing, but rather as something to stomp on and belittle and frown at behind the person's back. Let the drunk girl act like she's at the Warped Tour! Her boyfriend took her outside when she got limpy. It's all good, you jealous hags. Also, Mo from Mad TV decided to get in the way of everyone, drink cheap beer, and toss her giant column of hair into my face all night. I could have gone home with the cell phone you dropped, bouncing everywhere in your lesbian lover's arms, but I didn't. And when I say your shoving your brown curls into my nose, eyes, and mouth, don't reply "It's clean!"
"Oh, good. Carry on. I thought it might be dirty, but clean hair of a stranger, I ADORE being smothered with."
Ta, hos.
5:33 PM
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