The death of cool

Went to see Common with Nat on Wednesday. Hadn't heard of him before but he was pretty damn cool. Got to the Kool Haus at the Guverment at 8:30, waited in a ridiculous line-up that stretched down the street and around the corner for an hour and Common didn't come on stage till almost 11. In my day, concerts were done by 11. But maybe that's because I only remember the outdoor hippy shows. Shivering in minus something degrees in my "winter" coat, I realized I'd forgotten what it's like to be cool.

I was reminded of this sad fact when we approached the Jam Van about halfway through our wait. I sauntered in to this haven of cool to save myself a few minutes of freeze when the Jam Van dude had a chuckle at my expense. "What do you mean you've never seen my van around town before? Do you live in Thornhill or something?" The conversation turned to music, but when he asked what I liked, I mumbled inaudibly and scanned the cds hanging on the walls. Rock and roll wasn't a cool enough answer. Who in their right mind doesn't enjoy anything that came out after the '70s? I had to find something else, and quick. "Metro?" was all I could muster. Like Common, I had never heard of Metro either, but the cool Jam Van guy assured me that I gave him the right answer. He scrolled through his iTunes and played some of the Montreal band's stuff. Not bad. Not bad at all.

I was reminded once more of my lack of cool when I entered the venue itself. I had come directly from work, wearing a tasteful scarf, a too expensive coat, a silly pair of old Silver jeans and a bright red sweater. Even worse, I had gotten my hair cut the night before and my silky-smooth straight hair combined with my outfit made me look like the trendiest of girly-girls out there. Forget the fact that we were at least five years everyone's senior, my sin was in neglecting to accessorize. Jeans folded up to expose knee-high boots, little hats, shiny purses and knitted shrugs surrounded me. And the guys were even cooler. T-shirts underneath button-up shirts underneath unzipped hooded sweatshirts underneath fitted jackets made me yearn for my long abandoned layered look. What had happened to the girl who wasn't allowed to run for president of my all-girls school for wearing a marijuana necklace around my neck, sweatpants under my skirts and long sleeves under short sleeves?

Although it was clear that I needed a new music collection and a new wardrobe, I enjoyed myself immensely. I always liked "Go," the one song I had indeed heard before (despite not knowing its creator), and now I've added some more Common to my newly expanded repetoire. "Faithful" and "Testify" are on the top of my list, mainly because I was too drunk to remember the names of any the songs he sang next.

And the Kool Haus is way kooler than it was the last time I was there back in '98-ish when the same Nat took me to see Ben Harper. (That's a story in itself. I was digging the multi-cultural crowd, amazed at its scope, when Nat explained that the man I'd been listening to all summer was black despite my honky assumptions.) As I was saying, back in '98-ish, the Kool Haus was definitely not as kool as it is today. Now they've got these awesome bars, four to be exact, with big colourful lights overhead. They've also added a chilling area with leather seats, where I sat for most of the show. I was obviously not cool enough to dance with the masses. But I'm cool with that.