Friends Don't Let Friends Wear Crop Tops (FDLFWCT)

While shopping on Melrose and contemplating the dreaded return of the crop top, The Decemberists' “The Wanting Comes in Waves/ Repaid” came on overhead. To the chagrin of my dear sister, I instantly began stomping around the store singing “and this is how I am repaaaaaaaiiiiid,” complete with light head banging and the occasional air harpsichord solo. My muffintop of steel played a starring role in this performance, as it joined evil forces with a floral, Lilly Pulitzer-bright belly-baring shirt, prompting the revival of my personal chapter of Friends Don't Let Friends Wear Crop Tops (FDLFWCT).

As per usual, I hated The Decemberists when I first heard them. I suffered through Colin Meloy's vocals, knowing that I should like it, but I just didn't. Hearing “The Wanting Comes in Waves” at Sasquatch 2009 sent my dislike radar into a tailspin. That last sentence may be a little misleading, as, having been forcibly removed from the Sasquatch perimeter before The Decemberists hit the stage, I did not actually see them play. Apparently Sasquatch securrrity doesn't particularly like it when you scale the back fence and scramble over the port-a-pottys, a la parkour.  They're all concerned with tickets and nonsense.  

Instead of twiddling our thumbs waiting for our be-ticketed friends to return, my partner in sexytime crime Liana and I proceeded to hand out grain-liquor shots from our trunk to the dudes wearing "free hugs" shirts.  Our mescaline-infused neighbors even emerged from their homemade, found-objects teepee to join in our festivities.  The only interruption to this joyous debauchery came when The Decemberists hit the stage and the female vocalist's voice came cascading and echoing over the the rolling hills of the Columbia Gorge.  We paused our bacchanalia to marvel and sway to the rock opera, feeling the wanting coming in musical waves over the campground.  

"The Wanting Comes in Waves/ Repaid" makes me feel like I am at the center of a Michael Bay 360 pan, with all the epic feel and none of the gut-wrenching physical and mental nausea his films induce (the considerable queasiness I feel when even thinking about Transformers 3 is in part due to the horrific date that accompanied me to the "film," but that is a story for tomorrow).  Perhaps a better analogy would be to the final scene of Fight Club, when Edward Norton sits at the center of capitalism's apocalypse - the world around him shudders and falls decapitated to the ground as he looks on, at once innocent bystander and omnipotent leader. 

This year's Sasquatch will be significantly more accessible as I am one of the be-ticketed attendees now. In addition to my usual excitement over Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Deadmau5, Ween, Portugal.The Man, and The xx, I'll be lucky enough to see old favorites like Dr. Dog and new ones like Freelance Whales.  

The Decemberists - The Wanting Comes in Waves/ Repaid

Freelance Whales - Hannah

Dr. Dog - I Only Wear Blue

Photo credit goes out to the wonderful Liana Pregnant Cavness.