Dresden Dolls | Expo Center (and well, everywhere else)

Great show, at least the 45 minutes of it that we could bear.

But seriously, what could you expect at the Expo Center (quite possibly the lamest place on earth for a show) The hall was bare – stone floor, blank walls and a draped stage – and packed with teens in bland (or just plain bad) hipster fashion. By the time the Dresdens hit the stage, seven people had fainted in the suffocating crowd and had to be carried out.

There was no possible way to get close enough to see the stage (we’re short), so we chose a spot at the top of some bleachers set up at the side of the hall (the aluminum kind found at little league games, adding another surreal layer to the craptacular surroundings). Mr. H bravely (or possibly, um…stupidly) pushed his way into the crowd and secured a spot between the stage and the soundboards, where he still couldn’t see anything.

Now from my experience (and what an experience), if you’re not close enough to see them, you’re missing half the show. Brian’s facial expressions and antics and both of them play off the music, their instruments and off each other. But still those 45 minutes of music were bliss. I danced. Too her credit, my 15-year old looked sullen and suitably embarrassed. Set list included:

Backstabber | Shores of California | Coin-Operated Boy |War Pigs/ (Hit Me)…Baby One More Time (Brittney cover w/Brendon Urie, lead singer of Panic!) | Bad Habit | Girl Anachronism | Maybe one other I forgot (delilah?)

There was also a post-performance film/music event, F**k the Back Row!(program | YouTube), hosted by the DD at the Mission. I knew about it, but didn’t pay much attention as I thought we’d be staying for Panic!. Being at the Mission, it was doubtful that it was an all-ages at the show, but we didn’t want to stay and decided to take our chances.

Before we left, we met two other fans at the merch table (I’m not too old to forget that kids need merch to prove they were there), whom at first thought by their familiar and animated rapport were friends of my kids, but no, they were just happy rapid fans like us.

Mr. H arrived at the Mission before us and was already inside, but the show wasn’t all-ages, so my kids couldn’t get in. And we weren’t the only ones. More on that later.

Instead, we walked around the Pearl District, getting a gander at the newly luxurious Jimmy Mak’s (which is only all-ages before 9:30, so we couldn’t get in there either) and all the trendy little boutiques, before heading back up toward the theater so we could have dinner at Touché.

It was busy, but being Wednesday night, they were too understaffed to deal with it. We stood unacknowledged for several minutes. All our impatience vanished however, when Brian and two of his entourage walk in, and I’m thinking to myself (this is an exact mind-quote), "Holy s**t, no way. you’ve got to be kidding me, no. no. that’s not him, wait, no I saw that girl at the show, so yeah, it’s probably…" when in mid-thought he turned and looked me right in the eye. Yeah, it was totally him.

We giddily descended on him with craaaazy fan adulation. Even got a pic in the dark restaurant with my crappy camera phone, so it turned out as good as you would expect.



The commotion finally brought one of the wait staff over, so we bid Brian & Co. adieu, and requested a table outside (warm + muggy + no AC = eat outside). We got the sidewalk table right next to the door, a opportune location for our swooning like middle school-age girls when Brian came outside mid-meal and stood not more than six feet away from our table while he talked on his cell phone.

We ordered appetizers for dinner, which was a great idea, just poorly executed – the calamari was prepared with “fresh citrus juices” (my bad, I overlooked that in the menu description) so it tasted like it was drowned in lemon (and you know my opinion on lemons, or at least you should); a generous plate of hummus with 4 tiny triangles of pita bread, so you can order extra pita (which they happily charge extra for) so you don’t embarrass yourself by licking it off your fingers; and an order of garlic prawns which were wonderful, if you can overlook that you were charged $11 for 6 regular-size shrimp on top of a small pile of sautéed mushrooms.

We blew kisses and waved goodbye as Brian & Co. left the restaurant with an armful of to-go food, presumably a post-show meal for the performers. We finished up our food (except the remains of the rejected calamari) and as our night was seemingly done, paid the check and head back to the car for home.

We got about a block from the restaurant when we noticed the commotion outside the Mission. Since the start of the show, a slew of underage fans had been camped on the sidewalk listening to the show though the front doors of the theater. But during intermission, Brian and Amanda graciously came out to acknowledge these obviously loyal fans by putting on an impromptu sidewalk performance for them – just Brian and his guitar, and Amanda and her voice. The first song was over just as we walked up, but we saw them perform, “Missed Me” (one of my 12-year old’s faves, along with “Half Jack”) and chat with the crowd.



Incredible. Each of the two times I’ve seen the Dresdens, wonderful things happen. It’s like magic.

Amada went back inside to continue the show, but Brian stayed out for signing and to interact with the fans. He is completely open and genuine, taking an interest in what the fans have to say, and sharing his observations of fame and of the fans (esp. in light of the young hipsters wanting to see and be seen) musicianship and musical influences.

Mr. H illustrates for Brian the "puncturing ear effect" of listening to Panic! At the Disco:



Brian heads back inside. It’s late, so we say our goodbyes to Mr. H (one of our most favorite people) and head home with sleepy wishes and cabaret dreams. They’re the best kind.