Trip Shakespeare Grew Up

Once I was a 17-year-old girl who had a big thing for a little band.  They were called Trip Shakespeare.  And they were fabulous. 

My best friend, Krissy, and I were some of their biggest fans.

They were comprised of two brothers, Dan and Matt Wilson, John Munson and Elaine Harris, a woman who drummed standing up.

Image from fasthorseinc.com

I know most of you don't know Trip Shakespeare, but you should. (However, you probably do know of a song that Dan Wilson went on to record with Semisonic called "Closing Time.")

We went to several of their concerts at Minneapolis' First Avenue (the underage ones, cause we were, after all, 17) and always got there early to be in the front row.  We wore funky miniskirts and vintage jackets.  We gazed at the brothers with giant crushes in our eyes.  We sang along at the top of our lungs.  And we made mix tapes after the shows to have the songs in the order they performed them.

After one show, Krissy even reached up on stage to grab the handwritten set list.  (Yes, she still has it).

Several weeks ago I heard through a friend that Dan and Matt Wilson were doing a show in Minneapolis.  I got tickets for Krissy and I to go.

Since we last saw them in concert, we have doubled our ages (and then some).

We have left the miniskirts and funky coats behind and embraced our inner mid-thirty year-old status.

We both did wear high heels with pointy toes.  But only because we knew that the crowd would be older and we wouldn't be standing.

Gone were the big band entrances.  Dan and Matt simply strolled on the stage.  They talked, they bantered, they sang, they screwed up and called it what it was and started again.  Gone was the long hair.  Replaced by short cuts and smart-looking glasses.

They were real.

And so were we.  There was a time we wouldn't have missed a second.  This time, we cut out of the first half 30 seconds before intermission to get to be first in line for the bathroom.

We sang along, but quietly (except for "Toolmaster"), because we didn't want to ruin the show for the people around us.

Krissy turned to me at one point and said, "When your former rock gods all of the sudden look like professors, what does that mean?"

I think it means that some things change.  And some just don't.

We still had to go see if we could nab a set list.

At the end of the show, they mentioned that they planned to have a recording of the night's performance available on their web site.

I'll be getting it.

Otherwise, I might have to go make a mix tape.