Blinded by the light; revved up like a douche, another ranter in the night
You stick the music section in bed with Sinéad O’Connor, and we reward you with a Payback Time T-shirt and two tickets to a Live Nation club show of your choice taking place in Vancouver within the next four weeks. Here’s this week’s winning whinge.
Dear Payback Time: I was at the Japandroids show at the Waldorf on August 27, and, while I don’t share the enthusiasm that Gregory Adams detailed in his review (which echoed many of the adjectives the elitists over at Pitchfork shower all over this overrated band), I did have a decent time at the show, with one major detraction. Whoever it was that you folks sent to take pictures at the show (Rebecca Blissett, maybe?) needs a major lesson in etiquette. Namely, the use of flash photography. I was blinded, literally blinded, numerous times by the idiocy and righteous douchiness of your photographer, who kept pointing flashes both at the crowd and at the artist throughout the entire set. This rampant unprofessional behaviour is shocking and broke up the momentum and power of the show. Not only was it a disservice to the fans, it blinded the band at times and reflected poorly on the venue that they would allow frequent flash usage during the set. It’s a shame that a paper like the Straight would allow their photographers to behave so horribly and with such venom as to hamper and impede a show in such a way, neutering much of the impact of what could have been a dynamic live set.
> Shane Scott
Rebecca Blissett replies: Dearest Shane—If you’re the sort of fan who goes to see a band like the Japandroids and calls them both “dynamic” and “overrated” in the same paragraph, then I gotta make up for that when I’m shooting. In order to throw a proper wrench in your blinded eyes, I had lined up six weapons-grade-plutonium-laden glitter monkeys, a boat full of Somali pirates with neon flamethrowers, and—just to set off the right tone for the evening—another photographer working right alongside me for the show. (Double the flash power! Take that, you dim red lighting!). Shane, it all was set to be a spectacle.
Alas, on the night in question, the chimps were whisked away to a different stage by their Omega Crom leader (a costume thing involving hair, I’m told), and Hurricane Auntie Irene stranded the pirates in the middle of New York City, so, disappointingly, it was just us two photographers left. It sounds like my man didn’t “hamper and impede” enough, though, if you still had a “decent time”, but I am glad to hear he stuck it out for the “entire set”, as you reported; I was gone after the first three songs.
You do have one thing on me, Shane: I enjoy neutering. But it’s a little difficult to do on somebody who lacks balls in the first place—a fact you inadvertently pointed out by failing to notice my (fairly obvious) female parts when you decided to call me out as being the culprit. Not to worry—I’m sure your dick has it even worse.
You can voice your impotent rage by snail mail or by sending an email to firstname.lastname@example.org.