August 22, 2007

Musing over an advertisement proclaiming Justin Timberlake’s upcoming Australian Tour to be the most exciting ‘live’ music extravaganza of the year, I wondered how anyone could bring themselves to pay so much money for what looked as though it promised to be another stage show so dramatic and overfunded that it merely stuns fans into believe they’ve just witnessed a legitimate musical performance through excessive use of fireworks and gyrating dancers.

Our country seems overjoyed that JT is purportedly bringing sexy back to our shores, though I was unaware that it had left. (But if I had to guess I’d say Bert McCracken’s crackhead goblin look on the last Used tour may have forcibly removed it from our collective consciousness).

Friends and I giggled self righteously, but it was followed by dishing myself a grand serve of humble pie when it dawned on me just how much hard earned cash I’d spent chasing bands around the country.

Having paid a bundle seeing Strung Out play in multiple states on their last two tours (flights, accom, merch monster, beer to quench the thirst provoked by warmer climates, all reasonable really) I could hardly gush at paying $150 to witness the return of sexy albeit in the form of a tiny man in tight pants.

A friend even flew to the states to witness Face To Face’s final show and in the wee hours I’ve even considered whether the huge debt would be tolerable if I were to catch some lesser known bands overseas. When immersed in a perfect studio album you’re yet to witness live, flying to London for some RX Bandits, Weakerthans, or the reformation of Rage Against The Machine sounds, well, surprisingly reasonable.