Finn and Dandy

How could I forget to mention that seeing The Veils last week was dandy times dandy. Ideally they would have played their entire discography, but they were the opener, and they performed in a tee-tiny theater and stood mere feet away from my lovin' ears. Alas... much like the adorable homo heckler who deliriously screamed out his appreciation during the show, "I couldn't have been happier than I [was] in that moment!!"

I actually met Finn Andrews before the show whilst he sucked down a ciggy and again after whilst... he sucked down another ciggy. Finn is the caboose in a train of musicmen I've "met" here and there over the years. "Met" having a wide variety of definitions, such as "making ass of self with" (Mike Skinner), "translating French boyfriend's nonsensical statements to" (Libertine's bassist), and the awe-inspiring "dating the roadie of" (no name needed), to name a few. Most recently there was Andrew Bird, who nearly tripped over my dog's leash coming out of the local hipster shop. I apologized, he ignored me and proceeded to speed-walk to his Honda Element. Be not afraid, Bird, I was merely following your skinny arse, not stalking you. Big diff. Besides, we've met before... the time I stood beside him after a show, and that other time he stood near me at Lula while we waited for brunching space. Yeah, we're BFF.

Most of these encounters leave me oddly tongue-tied, which was pretty much the case with darling Finn. It's not that I think they're super human (though I usually think them pretty super), but there's something weird about me recognizing them, them not knowing me from eve, and steamrolling them with excited conversation all the same. Not that I'm ever one to steamroll anyone with conversation, but in those cases I often get particularly frozen in a flurry of taciturnity. Unless I'm good and drunk. Which I was not in this case. Even after a few shots of Tequila (sad attempt at reliving Mexico).

Luckily D was there to pick up my sobering overanalytical pieces, thereby qualifying this one as an official meet and greet. Well done, D. Finn made polite conversation through puffs of smoke and told us the next album should be ready by March. Other meaningless conversation ensued, but who cares. He's handsome, breakably skinny, less effeminate than I imagined, and his bassist, Sophia (Finn's grammar school pal), was awkward cuteness at its best, both in person and hunched over on stage. Dandy indeed.

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