Bishop Allen

Music seen, March 1, Jack McGee’s Pub, Bowdoin College, Brunswick
By CHRISTOPHER GRAY  |  March 7, 2007

I was really looking forward to writing this column. I was really excited to see one of my favorite bands at a venue I’d never been to, at a venerable college with a smart, tasteful crowd rallying around a fun, undeniable pop band (one of the few causes I’ve got the impetus to support these days). But it’s not to be, because the kids aren’t all right. They’re obnoxious, ignorant alcoholics, and they ruined my night.

Jack McGee’s Pub is a college bar. They serve wine that one person buys once a month, so by the time you get your glass it has spoiled back into grape juice. They also serve lots of Miller Lite and, because it’s Bowdoin College, Allagash White. The bar sits mostly empty until 11 pm, when a dog whistle that only people who are already wasted can hear sounds. At that point, about a hundred people — armed with someone else’s credit cards and fresh student-loan checks, and slices of pizza from the student union — flood the place. Almost all of their friends are there, but let’s bust out that cell phone and see who’s missing.

“Dude, you still playing Beirut? Dude?! There’s a band here tonight. No I don’t know who, get over here.”

So, Bishop Allen started playing around 11:45, because Bobby McFadden apparently hasn’t shown up to Sound Engineering 101 for a few weeks and couldn’t figure out which knob made the keyboard louder. They played a couple songs, and everyone loved it because there were plenty of girls in spaghetti-strap tank tops and plenty of guys with tucked-in shirts, kind of like that time they went to Bonnaroo and lost their wallets. They gyrated like it was a Phish concert. Maybe it was; I couldn’t hear a damned thing.

Me? After a song or two, I muscled my way over to the bar to grab my companions a couple more beers. After three more songs, I’d managed to squirm the thirty feet back to our spot. We downed our beers and left within five minutes, right after Bishop Allen played my favorite Bishop Allen song, “Click Click Click.” At least that’s what it sounded like. What a rager, dude. Let March 1, 2007, mark the night that I gave some serious second thoughts to graduate school.

  Topics: New England Music News , Health and Fitness, Addiction and Recovery, Mental Health,  More more >
| More


Most Popular
ARTICLES BY CHRISTOPHER GRAY
Share this entry with Delicious
  •   GIRLS (AND BOYS) ON FILM  |  July 11, 2014
    The Maine International Film Festival, now in its 17th year in Waterville, remains one of the region’s more ambitious cultural institutions, less bound by a singular ambition than a desire to convey the breadth and depth of cinema’s past and present. (This, and a healthy dose of music and human-interest documentaries.) On that account, MIFF ’14 is an impressive achievement, offering area filmgoers its best program in years. With so much to survey, let’s make haste with the recommendations. (Particularly emphatic suggestions are marked in bold print.)  
  •   AMERICAN VALUES  |  June 11, 2014
    The Immigrant  seamlessly folds elements of New York history and the American promise into a story about the varieties of captivity and loyalty.
  •   CHARACTER IS POLITICAL  |  April 10, 2014
    Kelly Reichardt, one of the most admired and resourceful voices in American independent cinema, appears at the Portland Museum of Art Friday night to participate in a weekend-long retrospective of her three most recent films.
  •   LET'S TALK ABOUT SEX  |  April 09, 2014
    Throughout its two volumes and four hours of explicit sexuality, masochism, philosophical debate, and self-analysis, Nymphomaniac remains the steadfast vision of a director talking to himself, and assuming you’ll be interested enough in him to listen and pay close attention.
  •   ASHES AND DIORAMAS  |  March 28, 2014
    History, rather than ennui, is the incursion that motivates this, his most antic and most somber work.

 See all articles by: CHRISTOPHER GRAY