I went to the Pelican show tonight. I saw, by far, the most high heels I've ever seen at a metal show. Pelican was too quiet, so instead of being snatched from the earth and being taken to the disorienting and pretty place that Pelican usually takes me (Pelican being, like Mogwai, almost entirely dependent on mass volume to succeed in a live setting; both bands are put together by fully mundane, normally-looking guys, and lacking spectacle to enthrall their audience they rely on pure presence to carry the viewer from spectation to transcendent participation with the music in a way that is not only mental, but emotional and even physical. Mogwai opening their set in Detroit 2001 with "Come On Die Young" at a literally staggering volume is one of two instances that a performance has been so overwhelming that it's brought me to tears. The other time was seeing Poison performing "Every Rose Has Its Thorns".) so the only real entertainments I had were looking at pretty girls and watching indie kids reacting to the guy in the Sepultura shirt who was engaging in full-on serious headbanging. You could really just reach out and touch their discomfort and contact embarassment at the spectacle of someone rocking out that unashamedly in public, swinging his perfectly straight, shining head of golden-blonde hair without a second of concern for composure.
Only metalheads and girls who ride horses have that kind of hair.