Because I have kept poor Mustache waiting for my first post for SO LONG—not my fault, I had a thesis to write—I’ll start off with a bang and go with a “famous person I met” story. Never mind that Zach Condon is to A-Bald as that guy who plays Eric on Gossip Girl is to Jack Nicholson. Just go with it.
Back in January, word got around that Beirut would be playing a show at my sad little liberal arts college in upstate New York, and that Mr. Condon had agreed to play his band’s first reunion show at our sad little chapel on the condition that he have a backing orchestra. And since I played viola in high school and the school entertainment director is my BFFL, I got to play in the “orkestar,” both at my aforementioned school and at the band’s two BAM shows. I got my picture on Stereogum, too, and have shamelessly used this fact to my advantage when hitting on underage hipsters at parties.
Anyway, after the college show, my friend the entertainment director called to say that Beirut was looking for a place to party. “YESSSSSS” I squealed, so loudly that my housemates thought I’d been stabbed. A mad rush to the gas station ensued (because rock stars need beer, obvi), as did more squealing. Rock stars! At my house! Hot ones!
And then they all rolled in with their skinny brunette girlfriends, and the females in the room breathed a collective "goddamn it." Here are selected highlights of the evening:
1) Perrin the accordion player taking a piss inside the igloo my housemate built outside our kitchen.
2) Kelly the trumpet player introducing me to his wife as his “Kentucky friend,” because the night before we’d had a drunken conversation about bourbon and an argument about Louisville basketball vs. Kentucky basketball. (Didn’t I tell you Kentucky would eat shit, Kelly?)
3) A freshman holding a guitar attempting to introduce herself to the voice of Beirut himself, and Zach Condon just shaking his head and glaring before she could even squeak out a “hello.”
Other highlights include the time he told a bunch of us that dropping out of high school was a good idea, and repeatedly reminded us all that he was 22, and everyone who was 22 felt bad about themselves for having accomplished nothing. Oh, and then there was the time my intrepid housemate discovered that Zach Condon and I are only ONE LINK AWAY on my college makeout web, but I probs can’t write about that because of libel laws.
Moral of the story: I threw Beirut an excellent party. I gave Zach Condon multiple shots of fine whiskey. I threw out the freshman with the guitar and the other one with the ukelele so as to make him more comfortable. I bought him a bathtub full of beer. And what did he do for me in return? Paid me half the amount of money he said he would for playing at BAM. His smarmy little manager said, “Oh yes, $150 each,” and I said, “Oh yes, that’s more money than I make in two weeks at my campus job.” But then a couple of weeks ago, here comes my check in the mail, and guess what it says? $75. And then the smarmy manager says no promises were made (except they were) and that THIS IS ALL THEY CAN AFFORD TO PAY US.
Who knows if that’s true? I don’t think it is, but I have no way of knowing, so instead I’ll blame it on Zach Condon and talk shit about him on the Internet.
P.S. He’s totally gay.