Breathe. Just Breathe.

No, I’m not talking about that horrible Telepopmusik song. I’m talking, sit on your couch and stare at that piece of art or person you admired, but couldn’t figure out why. I’m standing in the audience at the Gothic, and it is so crowded. Granted, many shows I attend are crowded, but tonight seems different.

Then it hits me. I’m in a theater with hundreds of people my age! When the hell did I get so old? Thirtysomethings, who’ve come to a strangely mature show on a Wednesday night. Yes, there were younger people there, but not many. Then another thought comes to mind. I am single. I feel like the only single person there! Getting nervous, I move around to try and find someone, anyone I know. I hate going to concerts alone, but when your friends don’t like the same music, it’s kinda hard. Not that I blame them. I probably wouldn’t — and havent — gone to some shows if they asked me.

I’m standing there minding my own business, when some girl is calling for Cassie. She’s looking in my direction, so I move in case Cassie is behind me. Oh God. Now shes waving. Is she talking to me? So I answer for Cassie. The vacant look on her face clearly states she has made a mistake. “Oh,” she says. “You look just like her,” mumbling something about MySpace. The first thing I think of is, Yes, black people all look alike. And we know each other. I do not know a single black girl who would be called Cassie. If you are a black girl named Cassie, I’m sorry. That name conjures up plaid shirts and tight-ass jeans for me.

Jose Gonzales finally comes on stage, looking shy and vulnerable. Instantly, I’m intrigued. What? Im a Cancer! As he begins to play, I see everyone around me gravitate towards each other. Suddenly, I’m sticking out like a sore thumb in an audience of lovers and best friends. Staring down into my half-empty drink, I try to appear nonchalant, pretending that this beautiful music doesn’t affect me.

The guy is amazing. As with most singer-songwriters, they’ve honed their skill of playing their instrument in unique ways. And how this guy can make his guitar sound like two, without one of those looper gadgets, is a mystery to me. I don’t care. Right now, I’m thinking about my messy bedroom and a piece of art my nephew and I painted.

Half-way through his set, the lovely Jose recounts what he did on his day off, complimenting we mere Coloradoans on how pretty our state is. I didn’t think we Coloradoans had anything to do with making it pretty; after all, half the trees in the mountains are dying thanks to pollution and some botanical disease. Another story.

His son went fishing, and he read a book. Sweet. He moves directly into another song, which is instrumental, telling everyone if they want to, they can leave, go to the bathroom or get a drink. Sweet. We all chuckle. Sweet.

The set ends too soon, and magically, everyone separates. Except for those few who have decided to make out between sets. I hate those people.

So I take the opportunity to get another drink. As I stand at the bar, I watch all the humans gathered, waving money and credit cards at the harrassed bartenders. Girls and women, who still think they can get a bartender to serve them first with coy smiles and cleavage. Whatever. The guy next to me caught me snorting derisively and smiles. Oops.

I turn around, and the crowd has doubled in size. Zero7 comes out finally, and I’m waiting to be impressed. I’ve never seen them live, and I’m always apprehensive of electronica shows. No such luck. I was still reeling from the earlier set. They are playing a song that goes on forever. Oh no. They are an electronica jam band! Where’s the door? I want to like them, I really do. The Garden is a very good cd. And so is When It Falls, though I dont think about Lemon Jelly when I hear them anymore.

Two very long songs later, I decide to move around. It’s not that I mind there are people dancing in the aisles. What I do mind is that they’re dancing in the aisles like the aging ravers and jam band hippies they are. Oh look! Weebles do wobble!

As I dodge flailing hands, the crowd gets loud. Jose has come back! Thankfully, he has come to sing his collaborative efforts with Zero 7. I hear them, I am delighted. I have to leave.

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