The time has come my friends. The last of summer’s sweaty days…back to school. The air is cooling down, the musty fragrance of decaying leaves is on the breeze: it’s autumn tour time. The most wonderful time of the year. Lalala.

It happens every early August. I ramble to a friend “wow, it’s been so long since I’ve been to a gig” or something similar and, like clockwork, a few days later I see my first autumnal tour poster. It’s quite comforting. There are few things I can bank on these days, though late August through late October I can be sure that there will be some live music in my life.

Right. So I made my first jaunt to the ticket vendor a few weeks ago and snatched up a handful of tasty ins, the first of which happened this week, Of Montreal. I must say that they were phenomenally amazing live; it was my first time seeing them. I had always assumed that while their records are fantastic, a live show might be on the theatrical and silly side. I suppose because, lyrically, Barnes is all over the damn place. Not the case. Spangles and eye makeup aside, it was the antithesis of dramatic, super tight and perfect. I also purchased the best piece of band swag ever created in the history of space and time, or in my 25 years of show going at least. But I digress.

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