I went to see the Super Furry Animals play at the Music Hall of Williamsburg last night. Part of the exercise here was to get back into the habit of going to shows — one of my resolutions for the year.

I enjoyed the hall. I hadn’t been there since it was Northsix. By the way, visit Northsix’s website to see a creepy web ghost town. I’d think they would direct people to the new website.

Apart from having a somewhat confusing layout (the people they pay to walk the hallways and tell you where to go might better be replaced by signs) it’s got decent acoustics, great places to stand, and easy access to the full service bar in the lobby. There’s a wacky rotating mechanical marquee out front that grinds to a halt from time to time as if the place is 30 seconds pre-apocalypse and already downwind of a shitstorm. Reminds me of Bioshock.

Behind me in line on the way in I overheard an uncomfortable date between a young couple which went something like this:

Guy: “So… who are your top 25 Welsh bands.”
Girl: “Um… I dunno.”

As if that weren’t bad enough, the guy starts rattling off a list of presumably Welsh bands. I resolved to try not to behave like that. The best part came next.

Girl: “I can’t remember the last show I went to.”
Guy: “Me neither.”
Girl: “I think it was Dave Matthews.”
Guy: /disgustedGrunt
Girl: “Is that bad?”

She was clearly trying to annoy him. I stopped listening. The Furries were good, as were Holy Fuck, who opened. I read both of their Wikipedia articles on my phone as I nursed my bourbon between sets.

Remembering the conversation I had overheard I approached a young woman and starting talking to her about the bands as if I knew everything about them. She hadn’t really heard of the Furries. I told her I hadn’t until I read the Wikipedia article a minute before. She seemed slightly amused, but I don’t think it won me many points.