for Bagley:
high school friend Chris used to be in a band. he is friends with Gordon Gano.
Gordon invited him to sing a couple of songs with the femmes. friend posted on facebook that he was gonna be on stage with the femmes...i, of course, publicly on facebook asked for me plus 10, while privately telling him that i'll be there at the show, guest list or not. he texts me that he has me on the femmes guest list. i go to the show with a college friend (the owner of my dedicated free Anthem parking spot, another story).
we went to the box office to get my ticket and pass, and for my friend to purchase a ticket to the show, and an anthem stapher turned in an "extra" ticket. i said, "i would like an extra ticket," and she gave it to me, and i gave to my friend.
Chris texts me to videorecord the 3 songs he is singing on. i enjoy the femmes set and record the songs. Chris is funny and dances and sings and is happy as a clam in shit to be there.
after the femmes set we all meet up and go outside on the balcony so Chris can smoke. We are out there awhile, and end up missing the bunnies open with lipslikesugar, but we see the rest of the set which seems a little stiff (last night of 16 or so on this tour) but iconic and nostalgic and professional and transported us to the 1980s, while random people who recognize Chris take selfies with him and i take photos of "fans" and Chris.
After the bunnies, I put on my femmes after-show party wristband, and wait for around 10 minutes which Chris goes backstage. I am the only person in the venue with this wristband it seems. There is no party?
Chris comes down to get me and we literally wander the backstage hallways of the Anthem undisturbed until we find the bunnies dressing room and we hang with the band, mostly Will (original bunny guitarist) who is lovely and friendly and who Chris knows from the old days.
I gloriously plug my phone in, which was down to 9%. we all chat for awhile. bunnies guitar player asks us if any of us want this bottle of wine, and sure, I'll take a chateauneuf-du-pop for the road...phone got to around 30%.
Then we go to see Ian "Mac" in his dressing room and I get to meet Ian, handshake, "big fan" etc., and Chris and Ian sing vaudevillian python-esque pun-filled dirty songs, and re-live some epic shit that went down with them in Liverpool a million years ago . . . while the oxygen tank next to Ian's sofa tells us that we are all old as fuck, but still trying.