Evil urges you to embrace the smooth rock stylings of My Morning Jacket!
Attended the My Morning Jacket show at El Zorro Fabuloso in Atlanta last night. After said show, Evil’s friends (one of whom, by the way, eats ass) commented on the weirdness of one moment in particular. No, it wasn’t when the guy in the yellow bear costume ambled back and forth across the stage. Or any of the songs during which Jim James threw on a Dracula cape and, well, capered about whilst singing. Or when he called Atlanta “Hotlanta, City of the Future!”
No—the weirdness occurred during the opening song of the encore, “Wordless Chorus,” which features the couplet “We are the innovators/they are the imitators.” Five thousand under-25s suddenly stopped shouting in each other’s ears, which they had been doing nonstop through the entire show when they weren’t shouting into their cell phones. They threw back their heads, raised their arms as one, and this antlike collective of chatterboxes screamed “THEY are the imitators!”
(Hey kids! If you’re reading this and you’re under 25, can you comment below and explain to the Evil why you and your peers pay $45 to see a show, then talk through the entire concert? Seems like a pricy forum for discussing that girl you met in Chem class. And why would you even answer your cell phone? Defend your generation!)
Weird. Evil didn’t register it at the time, but later, after his friends noted this odd occurrence, he wondered how it felt for the band. Gazing out at a sea of identically-dressed kids—the guys in matching pastel polo shirts, cargo shorts and flip-flops, the girls in the same billowy minidress—did they feel the rush of hearing thousands of people singing along to their song? Or were MMJ momentarily deflated to know that the meaning of the words their fans had memorized, and now bellowed back at them, had been totally obscured by the totally raditude of singing along? Was it distressing to know that they could have replaced “imitators” with “hot potaters” and it wouldn’t have made one lick of difference?
We may never know. But in retrospect, the moment makes the Evil shudder and scan his memory for lines he might have screamed aloud at a concert, utterly failing to grasp the context of the words as they left his tongue. Totally oblivious to the fact that the lyrics to his favorite song were in fact mocking him. “Here we are now, entertain us,” indeed.
Of course, this type of biting irony is a key component of any decent band’s alliance with Satan. It’s what made them great in the first place! So—if they’ve ever even considered it—My Morning Jacket can only shrug and raise a toast to their unholy master.
Enjoy the weekend. If possible, sell your soul for rock n’ roll.