Weeknight. The Music

In theory, last night should have been the best night ever--after all, it was Thursday, the best night ever for TV and Portugal. The Man were in town. In reality, at least part of the awesomeness kind of slipped right through our hands.


But, this is Cleveland, we're surprisingly used to disappointment.

Not disappointing were Portugal. The Man during their late-night show at the Grog Shop. Wasilla, Alaska's second-most famous export likely knows that Africa is a continent not a country, and jammed out a solid performance (hence the photo above. I know what you're thinking: "Whoa, that photo has a blue light! Jen always takes pictures when the stage lights are red! What's going on? Who am I? What is the meaning of life?" To which I say, "Calm down. My husband Robb took the picture. He's taller and therefore can get pictures that don't consist mainly of the backs of people's heads.").

It shouldn't surprise you that I'm kind of high-maintenance. When it comes to shoes and live music, I kind of have high expectations and I don't like to be disappointed. When I pay money, drive around for hours looking for a parking spot, pay for overpriced food and drinks and endure countless opening bands just to get to the headliner I came to see, I don't just want to hear the album regurgitated. I want them to perform it--and jumping around in gimmicky outfits with emo hair does not a performance make. When I go to a show, I want the band to give me something I can't find on their album or  on the internet. It's kind of an intangible thing, that "x factor" I guess, but however you describe it - Portugal. The Man brought it.

My advice for you: If you have the chance to check out these wild-eyed indie-rockers when they come to your neck of the woods, I would suggest you do so. Also, beware of mid-calf boots, they are a tricky, tricky animal.