Don't dream, it's over

Before seeing Animal Collective for my third time last Thursday, I remember thinking how awesome it would be to follow them on tour, Almost Famous-style. I imagined having all these weird conversations with the band, dropping acid or getting drunk with them (whatever they do) documenting it all and having it run in Rolling Stone (or whatever magazine people read). It would have been totally rad.

But then a funny thing happened.

I've only had one or two moments that really broke my heart regarding music. I remember being really bummed out when Death From Above 1979 broke up after one album and one EP -- although I begrudgingly admit MSTRKRFT are actually pretty good -- but that's pretty much it. I don't really remember Kurt Cobain dying, but Nirvana was big for me, so I was probably sad.

But after seeing Animal Collective on tour supporting their amazing Merriweather Post Pavilion, something just wasn't right.

I can recall many a conversation revolving around Animal Collective being the best live band I'd ever seen or the only band I would actually want to follow on tour. Hyperbole like that. But it was all genuine. I really did feel they were our generation's Grateful Dead or Pink Floyd. A band so weird, so brilliant, so trippy -- that seeing them was an experience that seemed like it would never stop feeling fresh. And I don't even smoke weed.

This may all sound weird to anyone who doesn't love Animal Collective, but they are mine (and many, many others) favorite band at the moment, and easily one of the most important acts of the past five years or so. And one of the hardest things in life is admitting something you love isn't so great anymore.

I am afraid Animal Collective -- live, at the very least -- has reached that point.


Maybe it was the fact that I felt old for one of the first times in my young life. Yeah I'm only 23, and everyone over 30 is telling me to die in a fire, but I also just graduated college, have a job (not a "career") I am not a huge fan of, am seeing a lot of my friends move further away, living at home again and have no money. Life is weird for the college graduate. You aren't a partying college dude anymore. You aren't a care-free high schooler anymore. You're an adult. But you still like going to concerts, drinking yourself silly, playing video games, staying up late watching pointless TV and doing all the other dumb shit young people do.

But the thing is, everyone who between the ages of 16-20 likes doing all that too. And I swear, the average age of the kids at the House of Blues in Boston that night was 16. Seventeen at the most. It was very odd. It made me think, "Why am I here? Should I be going to see Hall and Oates (the answer, of course, is yes) or something?"

And as Animal Collective went through a particularly unremarkable rendition of "My Girls" -- probably my favorite song of 2009 so far -- I knew seeing them would never be what it used to be. And that sucked.

A certain Satan Manning remarked that Animal Collective are driving the motorcycle up to the ramp, ready to jump the shark. They haven't quite yet, but it's coming. And this is going to sound like indie kid douchebaggery, but fuck, that sucks. I don't want to see my band become what hundreds and hundreds of other bands have become.

I guess I can can chalk it up to this being the third time I've seen them. The first two were great, unforgettable. But this performance was completely forgettable. Not good, not bad. When I go to write my book of all the concerts I saw and what happened (with somewhere between 50-75 percent of the facts made up), this Animal Collective show will not get a chapter. Or maybe it will. I'll call it "The Day the Music Died" or something dramatic like that.

Animal Collective are still a great band. Merriweather Post Pavilion is still a great album. Hell, I will probably see them the next time they come around.

But if it's anything like this night, I have no idea how I'll feel. Probably really, really old.