Sensual Infractions

The Supervillains begin with "20 Excuses." Jen is noticeably excited as the first verse starts. Dave seems unimpressed with the song choice -- the most predictable opener. I'm sensing no one'll be skanking tonight. Goddamn Wellmont Theatre.

"Crippy Weed" -- oh yes! I shan't get too invested in the band -- this is suppose to be a report on the Jen-Dave date, right? So, Jen is dancing to the track. Dave is moving around pretty slothfully -- I'll admit, this isn't a dance song. Jen continues her relaxed, unsystematic dance steps, as Dave preps for the obvious third track.

"Resin, you stick to my fingers," the pair sings, in sync. Shit, I realize I'm singing as well. Wow. So the song seems to both strengthen and loosen up the crowd of mostly college-aged kids. I feel happy. DIGRESSION!

The ultra-baked "Uno Momento" begins. Dave's a fan, surely. Jen doesn't seem to know it, though the lyrics are pretty basic. My first thought: Supervillains, you need to get jobs. Second thought: wow, I'm dumb.

The sexist "You Got Me" steps up to the plate. Jen, huh, likes this one. Dave seems particularly indifferent to it. The crowd, although primarily weedless, is continually releasing itself. I'm the most uptight one here, because I'm trying to get a good feel of the. . .

Date! Oh yes. The somewhat-profound "Beaches" is on. Cool track. Jen immediately identifies with it. She says, "Oooo," and Dave just looks at her, with probable laughter in his eyes. I love Dave -- I mean, he's right: who gets romantic to the fucking Supervillains? The track comes to an end, I think. These guys are terrific transitioners -- can't tell you when "Moonshine" started, but it's on, and it's great.

After a hell of a lot more awesome ska, the show ends. Dom and Skart are great people, constantly interacting with the audience without compromising musicianship. Predictably, Jen and Dave don't seem to be going anywhere tonight. Damn it. I follow them out. Dave guides Jen. Transportation? I mean, neither Jen or Dave has a -- shit, that's Dave's friend Warren N's red Porsche. Whatever. I can't sneak my way into that. Unless . . .

Yeah. I'm taking a taxi home. Hmmm, one last look. Oh, they're holding hands. How cute. How not-even-first-base. Well, I'm out $30, I'm currently being followed by a guy in similarly ugly Uggs, and nothing happened with Jen and Dave. Oh, and I have to finish a three-page English essay on Henry David Thoreau's influence on Nathaniel Hawthorne's politics. School in eight hours. As the wonderfully-talented Anthony C would say: "Fuck my life!"

"Creeper," the guy in the red Uggs responds. Yeah, I think I better just hop that taxi. Until next time, this is Nick Rapper saying: "Where is Anthony C when you need him?"