Technically, I should have been at the band social, smiling at the people I barely talk to and politely declining a game of ultimate frisbee. But a call from a friend from a friend from a friend inviting me to a concert let me know that no, I want to actually enjoy my life tonight.
So we sped away from our boring Saturday nights to Provo. (Funny, eh?)
I'm not sure there's a feeling better than hysterical laughter with friends. And dirty jokes after having behaved so well for so long. Sharing why each of us decided not to go to BYU, tearing up the streets with fangirling, and spinning out inappropriate texts.
The Velour was an awesome venue. Unicorn paintings and old signs for morticians, with the old smokey smell of Pioneer Village at Lagoon. An open stage, awkward seating. Best stand and kill your feet. We saw The Flying Surgeons, who were okay. We saw Boy Kings, who were amazingly great. Finally, Brogan Kelby, the source of so much fangirling among my friends.
The Boy Kings were beautiful. All of their music was... fascinating. The unexpected moments of their music and the build up of the bass made me smile. I especially loved "Streets of Spain" and "Lava", but I haven't been able to find any trace of their existence online. Sadness.
The bass was overwhelming and sweet, creeping up under my chest. That's my favorite feeling of concerts. Loneliness in a dark room, you and the waves teaching your heart to beat again.
My friends were freaking out over Brogan Kelby. He had a huge band compared to the others, with an unofficial dress code of tank tops. His bassist had a beautiful flower tattoo on his right forearm, and it just makes me want a tattoo even more. I have a bad case of tattoo-lust. His lead guitarist was adorably shy; I hear it was his biggest crowd yet, even though it couldn't have been much more than 40 people. I'd only heard his song "Who Cares" before, and everyone else was wearing "Brogan Kelby has the sexiest fans!" T-shirts, so I just kind of stood to the side and observed quietly. Aaron snapped a billion photos. Olivia got a microphone dropped on her. Kenna sang with him (and then managed to have the biggest fangirl sesh of her life—and then stole his water bottle to secure a stalkerish status). Eventually Brogan took his shirt off, so, you know, lots of screaming there.
Overall, an awesome night. I was embarrassingly shy, but that's what friends are for. To push you into talking about everyone's awkward lives among a night of music.
DFTBA
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