BOH show dampened, but redeemed
I rushed home early from a weekend in Florida to catch Band of Horses at the Music Farm, one of the last shows on their American tour. I arrived just in time for the beginning of Cass McCombs’ set and to nab a prime spot near the front. An hour and a half later, the Farm was overflowing with flannel, and when the Horses took the stage, they woke everyone up real quick with “Is There a Ghost,” the ethereal opener from Cease to Begin. Ben Bridwell’s voice was a little scratchy at times (understandable after so many weeks on the road), but still I couldn’t have been happier until a few songs in, when my neighbors and I were invaded by the Wet Seal mafia. Two girls in matchy outfits and plastic earrings shoved their way in front, stepping on me with their stilettos and choking me with their cheap perfume. As they constantly cheers-ed their beers and grinded on the surrounding guys, I forgot about my favorite band which was performing just a few feet away and wondered if it could get any worse. A flutter of text messages later, and one of the girl’s beefy boyfriend shoved his way behind me and started breathing/spitting on my neck as he yelled incoherently, his constant fist pumps coming threateningly close to my skull. More than a little irate, yet unable to move without losing my spot, I surrendered and headed upstairs, wondering what exactly the protocol is for dealing with douchebags bent on ruining my night. Is a little shove acceptable? What about accidental beer spillage? Would BOH mind if I started a catfight in the middle of their show? On the balcony, the view wasn’t as good, but there was room to dance, and there wasn’t a stiletto in sight. —Erica Jackson
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