Saturday night, I attempted to see Flying Lotus live at First Avenue with a couple of friends. The attempt failed. Here’s a log my Saturday night blunder.
6:30 p.m.- In preparation for Flying Lotus’s show with openers Thundercat, JPS and Peabody, I decide to listen to a few FlyLo tracks off his latest, “You’re Dead!” by googling “flying lotus youre dead full album” and finding the video results. After listening to the cheesy GarageBand-antics of this Youtube video for about a minute, I realize that I am not hearing the electronic jazz musician after all.
7:00 p.m.- Dejected but no less excited for the upcoming show at 8, I decide to grab a quick dinner at a residence hall on-campus. Trying to remain healthy, I load my plate with broccoli, hummus and pita chips, with a little soft-serve for dessert (despite my burgeoning lactose-intolerance).
7:30 p.m.- I bike to First Ave and meet up with a few friends, where we discuss previous shows we’ve seen at the historic downtown danceteria, a Minneapolis staple that’s hosted everyone from Prince to Har Mar Superstar in its 44 years as a venue.
8 p.m.- Doors open. Flying Lotus fans whisper among themselves about what FlyLo will bring to the stage as an electronic musician. Fan theories include a joint performance with his buddy Thundercat, a wondrous light show, or possibly some spooked-out stage decor in honor of Lotus’s deathly new album and Halloween’s approach.
8:30 p.m.- Surprise opening-act Peabody takes the stage. Peabody’s bass-heavy beats border between strange and danceable, and as the first act on stage, Peabody did a fair job of warming-up the cold, Lotus-hungry audience.
9:15 p.m.- After Peabody’s warbling set, I start to feel a little woozy myself. Just before JPS begins performing the second DJ set of the night, I get a cup of water from the bar and chill-out on the curb across the street from the Target Center.
9:45 p.m.- I know what’s coming: vomit. After rushing into First Ave’s cleaner-than-you’d-think bathrooms, I dry heave. Nothing comes up, and I think that I might be able to weather Thundercat’s performance before Flying Lotus takes the stage.
10:15 p.m.- Thundercat begins to perform, bringing onstage with him a keyboardist, drummer and an all-commanding wolfskin hat. After a couple of incendiary tunes from Thundercat’s tight, jazz-fusion band, I realize that I won’t be seeing Flying Lotus tonight.
10:16 p.m.- I puke, watching the healthy greens and dessert delights I consumed hours earlier swirl down the drain of a well-graffitied toilet stall.
10:40 p.m.- After resting with another cup of water, I say goodbye to my Flying Lotus dreams and hop on the 6U back home.
10:42 p.m.- While a blue line light rail train whizzes downtown, the bus idles on Hennepin Avenue. As the bus motor vibrates my seat, the all-too-familiar sensation stirs in my stomach and informs me of my impending trip to Hurlsville. I storm to the front of the bus, where I inform the bus driver (maniacally) that I must be let off the bus immediately.
10:43 p.m.- On the sidewalk in front of the Pourhouse, I puke. The green, water-and-broccoli vomit flows out of me similar to a detestable vat of Nickelodeon slime. Being a Saturday night downtown, my barf is met with waves of applause from suburban yuppies out on the town.
Although I didn’t get to see Flying Lotus, Saturday night’s memory will remain with me as a reminder not to eat poisoned food before a concert.