I think I'm in Taradise.

Last night, a few of the gang took in Architecture in Helsinki at Avalon. They were great. Skipping around the stage and swapping instruments in a madcap musical orgy. They remind me a bit of New Zealand's Brunettes (or, as I enjoy calling them, "Th' Brunits"), but more electronicy. Also a little nuttier.

Anyway, the music was great (I was nervous that aforementioned electronicy-ness would make for a sub-par live performance, but I needn't have worried). Less great was the gaggle of 16-year olds in the house, many of them apparently skipping their prom for the event (needless to say, they knew the rules of attending the rock show).

Then there was a young lady who, in the light, looked a lot like Tara Reid, except she managed to keep her top on. Also like Tara Reid, she was in a fugly dresser, with a dress over a pair of pegged jeans. Not a tunic-y dress, mind, but that kind that spins.

Also, young not-Tara was with a friend. And they had just come out of some kind of vow of silence and did. Not. Shut. Up. For. The. Whole. Show. Luckily, I was standing close to them, so much of their conversation was screamed into my ear. The best part, of course, was when they began with the dancing. Into me. I had to surrender my spot and retreat, so troubled am I lately by the touchy from the strangers.

Before I wimped out (Claire hates people as well and is much better about standing firm at concerts) however, I did consider going all Vicky Pollard on her ass (see below, it'll make you happy). But you can't stay mad when there's happy crazy Australian music going on. No sir.