Yet another entree in our continuing series of dramatic offerings. With apologies, I guess, to that horrible animated Christmas special with the mice and clocks and the stupidity.
[Certain DCists are sitting at Polly's, commiserating.]
DCist Amanda: Man. It really sucks.
DCist Sommer: Agreed.
DCist Kyle: Totally.
DCist Jason: Definitely.
DCist Jason: Wait. What is it that sucks?
DCist Sommer: The fact that Wolf Parade doesn't seem to have included a DC stop on their tour.
DCist Amanda: I know it's silly, but I always get bothered when bands bypass DC, while playing Baltimore and Carrboro. It seems like a slight, even though it probably has more to do with who booked what when.
DCist Kyle: I remember that I couldn't go more than 48 hours without mentioning how pissed I was at the National all last year.
DCist Amanda: I just wanted a chance to hear Wolf Parade live.
DCist Sommer: You're not alone.
DCist Kyle: Canada is so hot right now.
DCist Amanda: Word.
DCist Jason: I know why Wolf Parade isn't playing here.
DCist Sommer: You do?
DCist Jason: Sure. I don't know how to say this, guys...
[lights down as scene dissolves and reveals the band Wolf Parade, gathered together, reading a letter on another part of the stage]
DCist Jason: (voiceover) Dear Wolf Parade. You guys suck balls. Seriously. I cannot possibly count the number of balls you suck. I would need a scientific calculator to account for all the exponents and stuff. You suck those balls, lips straining with all the tension, and you simultaneously manage to be big stupid-heads. And you bore me. I hate you. I hope you never, ever come to Washington, DC and everyone in Washington, DC totally agrees with me. Suck it. Suck it and die. And never come to Washington, DC., where nobody wants you.
Arlen Thompson: That really hurts my feelings.
Spencer King: And it's not the sort of hurt feelings that inspire good songwriting!
Hadji Bakara: I guess DC doesn't want us. Looks like we'll never tour there.
Dan Boeckner: Hold me, Hadji.
Arlen: Oh, you two go get a room, already.
[The scene dissolves and resets itself at Polly's]
DCist Amanda: Jason, you didn't!
DCist Jason: Sure. Why not?
DCist Sommer: That wasn't a very nice thing to do. A lot of people in DC want to see Wolf Parade!
DCist Jason: Feh. I did them a favor.
DCist Kyle: No you didn't Jason. And deep down I think you know why. You've forgotten something essential about the power of live rock and why it's important to people. It looks like it's up to me to remind you of what it really means.
[DCist Kyle, summoning the power of the information leafblower, magically transports DCist Jason and himself to the apartment of DCist Tom. Tom is sitting on his couch, staring blankly at the wall.]
DCist Kyle: Look at Tommy, Jason. He and DCist Catherine have to spend this whole year apart. They don't have much opportunity to lay around spooning, exchanging thin protein strands of luv back and forth in the silent union of their bodies. To them, for an entire year, their words are everything. And if they don't have the opportunity to bond with each other over their mutual love of indie rock, you just know that the conversation's going to be dominated by Catherine's upstairs neighbor and whatever gimcrack piece of high-tech modification Tommy's building into his keychain. Does that sound hot to you?
DCist Jason: Gosh. No. It really doesn't. I had no idea.
[Kyle uses the awesome power of the information leafblower to transport the pair to College Park, Maryland, where they arrive at the domicile of The Upstate Life, who sits rocking out to Wolf Parade on his headphones.]
DCist Kyle: You know what a big fan The Upstate Life is of Wolf Parade. But I bet you didn't know that one day, The Upstate Life will rise up and teach his brethren at the University of Maryland to stop setting their entire town on fire just because their basketball team played Duke. His actions will usher in a thousand years of scholarly enlightenment at Maryland. Surely that's something you would like to see happen.
DCist Jason: Sure. I think The Upstate Life is awesome.
[Once again, the information leafblower takes the pair across town, this time, to the home of the Governess, who is happily blogging about her plans to go to the Black Cat the following evening.]
DCist Kyle: Now, look at the Governess. See how excited she is?
DCist Jason: Yeah. But she's excited to see the Hold Steady, not Wolf Parade.
DCist Kyle: But that's my point, Jason. When a person's favorite band comes to town, it makes a person feel excited and happy and hopeful. The love of a good band can make even the most cynical person feel like a kid again. It's an awesome feeling. I could babble on and on, as if this were the last scene from Scrooged or some shit like that, but it's just not my style.
DCist Jason: Wow. I never thought of it that way.
DCist Kyle: Come on. I have one last thing to show you.
[One final trip with the blower and Kyle and Jason arrive at a tall clock tower that's been erected on the National Mall.]
DCist Kyle: I just wanted to show you how much the Wolf Parade mean to the people of DC. Here, they've erected a massive clock. At midnight tonight, the chimes of the clock are going to begin playing, track-by-track, Apologies to the Queen Mary in its entirety. With luck, Wolf Parade will hear it and realize that Washington, DC loves them, undoing the effects of your letter.
DCist Jason: How are Wolf Parade going to hear about it? It's not like they'll be flying overhead in a sled.
DCist Kyle: Probably Stereogum will pick it up.
DCist Jason: Oh. Naturally. Well, Kyle. I have to say thanks. You've given me a lot to think about. I think I know what I have to do.
[It's close to midnight the same night. A massive throng, including the aforementioned DCists are gathered around the Wolf Parade clock, eagerly anticipating the beginning of the chimes. The buzz is hopeful, the masses giddy and excited with anticipation. Just then, the minute and aligns with the hour hand. It is midnight. From deep inside the structure, the opening part of "You Are A Runner and I am My Father's Son" begins playing. For a few seconds, the sound is peerless, beautiful, an amazing representation of the recording. But then something starts to go horribly wrong. Wrong notes are played. Gears shift out of line. Mainsprings pop. The music soon degenerates into an unholy din. The gathered crowds appear stunned and mortified, as melancholy groans are heard. Finally, the face of the clock plops clean off, and the chimes fall silent, mid-song.]
DCist Amanda: Oh no! What's wrong?
DCist Sommer: I don't understand! This was supposed to work!
DCist Kyle: I don't understand how this could have happened.
DCist Jason: Uhm, Kyle. I know what happened.
DCist Kyle: Oh, no. Jason. Don't tell me. You were curious as to how the clock worked. It's inner mechanics fascinated you. So you climbed up into it's guts to check it out, but you ended up breaking it. You didn't mean to, it was just an accident. But you were just too scared of what people might say to tell anyone. So you climbed back down and joined the crowd, hoping against hope that the damage wasn't severe. That's how it went down, isn't it?
DCist Jason: Uhm, no. I climbed up into that motherfucker and made like a killer whale. And when I say killer whale, I mean I whaled on it with a sledgehammer until I fucking killed it.
DCist Kyle: (mortified) But...I don't understand...
DCist Jason: Shit, Kyle! There's nothing to understand. What did I effing tell you? I fucking HATE Wolf Parade!
The Black Cat, 8:30
with Swearing at Motorists and Plastic Constellations