Yo La Tengo can still safely say "I've got it!"

Yo La Tengo is that rare band that's still touring today with 25 years of shared inventiveness under their belts. Music geeks love them inordinately, even if they tend to parse every little thing Yo La Tengo does down to the sub-atomic level. I'm not going play that game by trying to put on a dork clinic about the history of Yo La Tengo (fun fact - the band's name is a Spanish colloquialism for "I've got it!"). They're just plain ol' one of my faves. The sort of band that I will always see. And even when the evening contains a bundle of less than stellar elements, I'm always glad that I did so.

My wife and I saw Yo La Tengo perform last Thursday night at one of Seattle's least likable venues - the Showbox SODO. This newer Showbox is a warehouse space with a concrete floor, horrible acoustics and an otherwise likable staff that seems equally amazed that anyone comes there for shows. With the lights up, it looks like the a cleaned-up, empty tire dealership. Seeing small groupings of hipsters standing around drinking PBR tallboys in this space is so dull, so repetitious, so un-buzz-worthy. Before the opener broke the static, it looked like a photocopied venue teleported from a very long, rather uninteresting list of mid-sized Midwestern towns - let's say Eau Claire or Kalamazoo or Topeka - where everyone affects a pose like they'd prefer to be somewhere else. Maybe that sounds judgmental and pretentious. Sue me. But I'm just saying that it didn't feel like the epicenter of articulate, classic cred. Yet amidst the sea of earth-toned hoodies and ironic t-shirts was Ira Kaplan (lead guitar and vocals, one of the two original members with his wife, Georgia Hubley). Sitting behind a tour merch table - signing CDs and taking pics with fans. When Ira, Georgia and James McNew eventually took the stage, they were filled with good-humor. If they are filled with cynicism or angst about still doing what they do so well, you won't see it in the club. Or at least not on this particular night.

Their opener was Jackie-O Motherfucker, an absurd, freeform psychedelic, post-rock quartet of meat from Portland that jammed like the revolving door, acid-dropping band of goofballs they've been for years and years. We tolerated them the way older music geeks do when they're just happy to be out, without wanting to fully attribute it to having a trustworthy babysitter home with your kid so that you can act nearly half your age.

As the music got ready to roll, a trio of insanely drunk misfits forced their way into our space. By the time Yo La Tengo started playing, the sole dude - a fat little drunk choad in one of those ugly, ubiquitous army green British Invasion caps - passed out cold on the floor. His female "friends" took pictures of him and texted with their cell phones until some of us stepped in to make sure that he was OK. He wasn't - security had to carry him out. Then his friends were extra drunk and annoying for another hour before the surrounding group disdain eventually got them to leave. Even Georgia rolled her eyes at how they were carrying on and interrupting the quieter songs. It just solidified my one and only rule of seeing live music - don't be annoying. Of course that rule has 127 subsets of definitions, but we all know what I'm saying.

In the end, Yo La Tengo played a great show. Jackie-O Motherfucker and Yo La Tengo made a big deal out of a "special guest" on the way. I'm sure everyone else had the same degree of nerdy fun debating who that might be. Then Howard Kaylan from "The Turtles" showed up. I know - who? He was totally adorable, not entirely wasted, and about as much fun as having a beer with your uncle after church. Then Yo La Tengo came back out for two encores. By the time they left, everyone felt great about it all. Real pros played a really decent show. And it wasn't until a few days later that I could take a few minutes to reflect upon just how rare that is. As it always was, and surely will be.

Seattle sight seeing ain't always this pretty, believe me...

It's one of those afternoons that makes me want to reach around Seattle's waist and squeeze. Wait...that didn't exactly come out right. I'm talking a hug. Because Seattle is so damn cute and fuzzy. And filled with hilarity.

Maya's on a break from her regular gig when it comes to daycare. So we're juggling some fun things - swim lessons, playdates, picking up drifters from down by the Amtrak station for a few hours of reasonably-priced babysitting. Some days give me a bit more time to get things done than normal, some much less. Today's a treat because I got some writing done earlier and now I'm also benefiting from a playdate drop-off so I can run some errands and the like. Included in a mix of things that you'd surely not care to hear about was the need to head down to a music venue near the Pike Place Market to pick up a pair of tix for a show that Sarah and I are overeager to see in October. Yo La Tengo @ the Showbox SoDo. Music geek royalty (reminds me of my all-time favorite Onion story headlined "37 Record-Store Clerks Feared Dead in Yo La Tengo Concert Disaster"). But I went to the ticket office inside the Showbox at the Market because it's closer. Those familiar with that area know it is surrounded by places that are or wish they were as classy as a strip club. Inside the Showbox there was an older rocker dood ahead of me in line with his bike getting single tickets for the following shows - Motorhead, Butthole Surfers, and The Damned. He was about 50. Then there I am. Then this kid, no more than 20, comes in by himself hootin' and hollerin' like he just shot up a village or saw the Indy Five-Hunnerd or won a free trip to Cabo Wabo from a classic rawk station. The old-way-beyond-his twenty-ish years shirt hanger and skinny jeans model behind the counter says without any sarcasm "this isn't a strip club" as nonchalantly as if he'd just said "restrooms are for customers only". Lynyrd Skynyrd didn't take offense, thanked Mr. Hipster kindly and turned on his heels, back into the sunlight with a mission before him. I got my tix minus the ridiculous Ticketmaster mark-up. And the afternoon is still young. Is this a great town or what?

Hope your own clubs are all exclusive yet welcoming today. Rock on.