This weekend I watched Fargo for the first time and suddenly, I understood why so many people seemed perplexed when we decided to move to Minneapolis. But rest assured that we live in an entirely different world than the setting of Fargo. I don't think I've met a single person with an accent like that, there is so much more than endless highways covered in snow and men with ambitions of buying parking lots.
There is a woodchip pile near the lake by my house, though. Shudder.
One thing you might not know about Minneapolis is that there's a pretty incredible live music scene. If you like an artist, chances are they will be here sooner rather than later. First Avenue is a legendary concert venue downtown made famous by Prince in Purple Rain, and apparently, on many artists' bucket list. Y'all, I think prior to moving here I dedicated about 5 minutes of my entire life thinking about Prince. Here? I hear about him once a day. Especially at concerts - every. single. artist has mentioned Prince or covered him.
It took me awhile to start taking advantage of the music scene, but now I find myself wanting to go to every concert. Last night I saw what I think was my favorite: St. Paul & the Broken Bones, a band I heard about on NPR. Who finds out about music on NPR? I'll tell you who: someone whose back was killing her by the end of the concert. (That would be me.) Not only was the band amazing live, I adored their opener, John & Jacob, whose song Be My Girl was used on the TV show Nashville.
And the venue -- The Varsity -- was full of chandeliers and charm. Both bands mentioned the "fancy-ass bathrooms" which were indeed fancy and, I later learned, won America's best bathroom. What an honor to have urinated in America's best bathroom.
Aside from last night's show, I've been trampled by girls in crop tops (Haim), gotten yelled at by drunk frat boys (Alabama Shakes), faced my fear of heights to dance my heart out at the tip-top of an arena (Justin Timberlake), enjoyed music at a classy jazz club with white tablecloths (Mike Doughty), listened to quiet Americana on the coldest day EVER while strolling through a blissfully warm conservatory (Matt Moberg), took a successful chance on a random band (Wheeler Brothers), danced onstage with Rebirth Brass Band, watched an awkward NPR crowd sway back and forth to rap music (Jean Grae at Wits) and relived an eighth grade obsession (Hanson). Oh, and I've been knocked over by two drunk college kids, one of whom had a bleeding lip, who were making out. (Passion Pit).
And here's the soundtrack:
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