Fists of fury

Last night I headed up to Kings Cross to enjoy a Christmas present that my big bro got for me. But wait, you dirty-minded perverts - it had nothing to do with what immediately springs to mind when someone utters the words 'Kings Cross'; no, it was, in fact, a rather wonderful Nada Surf concert at the Scala.

I won't go on too much about the band, because it's not been that long since I harped on about them before; suffice to say that me and my cohorts (the aforementioned big bro and Yaz) had a wonderful time, and Nada Surf's new album, Lucky, which I picked up at the merchandise stand and have listened to constantly since, is awesome.

What I will go on about, though, is people's elbows, and some serious spatial awareness issues.

Basically, we managed to get pretty close to the stage, but as usually happens in this instance, an incredibly tall dude ended up right by us. An incredibly tall, bony-elbowed drunk dude, who kept jabbing me in the right tit while the support act, Rogue Wave (also very good), played. And if it wasn't his bony elbow, it was his freaky bony hip swaying into my abs.

And to rub insult into injury, after Rogue Wave finished and his drunken girlfriend staggered off to find a plant pot to pee behind, drunk dude decided he'd try to talk to us. While trying to deflect said dude's conversational advances, Yaz jokingly - and gently - poked me. I laughed. But then drunk dude thought he'd have a go. 

Yes, you read that right, but let's say it again for emphasis: drunk dude thought he'd have a go.

And he poked me. And not only did he poke me, but he poked me right where I'd stashed the Nada Surf album I'd just bought. He poked me in my Lucky.

Now, I'm a peace-loving chap, and even I'm a little surprised by what I did next: I gritted my teeth and raised my fist in a threatening manner.

Drunk dude did not bother me again all evening.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for another drunkard, who seemed insistant on trying to make me his new best friend, despite the fact that he was attending the gig with his two best friends (who, annoyingly, he insisted on chatting to quite loudly, quite a lot). On one occasion, during the song 'Imaginary Friends,' he put his arm across my shoulder and tried to get me to take part in an impromptu chorus line with him and one of his pals. I glared at him until he removed it, which happened, I kid you not, pretty damn quickly.

Near the end of the gig he tried to befriend me once again by inviting me to high-five him. I responded once again with a glare of epic proportions that I would have maintained until he either a) left me alone, or b) was vapourised. Fortunately for him he chose the former and quickly left me alone.

Fortunately, these little … interruptions did not spoil the gig. Good times!

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I didn't take many pics, but here's a couple:

From left: Ira on drums, Daniel (rocking his awesome dreads) on bass, and Matthew on guitar and singing.

At the end of the gig, the band invited anyone who wanted to get up on stage to, um, get up on stage. I kid you not - that there is the stage from the same angle as the previous pic.

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And because I didn't take any video clips, here's Rogue Waves' video for their song 'Publish my Love.' The drummer apparently had a kidney transplant recently-ish. Notice how he also looks like Earl Hickey from My Name is Earl*.

And here's Nada Surf's song 'Blankest Year.' Careful kids - it has naughty words in it!

*I'm not sure if this is a side-effect of said kidney transplant.