Two important things happened completely by accident last Monday night. First, I got drunk. Second, I kind of fell in love with Andrew Kober.
I know, it seems stupid that both of these things occurred by accident. After all, I was the one who purchased tickets to see his Koberet performance, and who buys tickets for a concert/show/thing they have limited interest in? And how, exactly, does a girl get drunk by accident? Was I not serving my own beers while I played Guitar Hero in my apartment ahead of the show? Did I not place each of the three gin & soda orders myself? Shouldn’t I have known better?
The drunkenness I’ll blame on the uhh…generous pours of the bartender at Joe’s Pub who very graciously remembered my stupidly girly order that involves a splash of cranberry. That lovely man let the gin bottle hover over my glass far longer than the soda gun, bless him. I mean, when you can still taste the booze in your third drink you know that there’s going to be a problem. Unfortunately at that point, it is also too late.
The falling in love with Kober part is entirely Andrew’s fault. Entirely.
I think it was “Le Salon” that won me over, which is hands down the best French Whorehouse story I’ve ever heard. There was a point during that story I actually thought I might snarf up my booze. It was strangely refreshing to laugh that hard on a night that I’d expected to be sort of—to quote Lucky—insufferable. But I can’t lie; Koberet was more than just one good number. Andrew really blew my expectations out of the water all the way around. Hence, you know, the falling in love thing.
I can’t pinpoint what it is that made me feel like Kober was a pompous ass in the lead up to Koberet when, clearly, so many people quite love him. Maybe it was the public Twitter shaming of a young fangirl who had foolishly but innocently crossed a line. Maybe it was a million other things. Maybe it was my own stupidity.
I can tell you that my lack of interest in the show was a lot less about Kober personally—I kind of like pompous jackasses (?) and anyone who has seen Hair knows the boy can sang—and a lot more about this whole ‘Koberet’ business. Because it seemed as if this was more likely to go wildly wrong than to turn out right. Koberet? Really? Talk about going for the low-hanging fruit. Talk about something that has enormous potential to be absolutely dreadful.
If we’re going to be completely honest here (and we are, see: Gavin Creel Has Gone Radio Silent and the World Is Concerned) I really bought the ticket for people watching potential. And with more than a little hope of up close and personal @Hairtribe crush sightings. Not that I harbor any inappropriate feelings like that.
But regardless of why I was there, last Monday Andrew Kober changed my mind, about Koberet and maybe about pretty much everything. He was funny, self-deprecating and warm. And fuck it; he put together a great show. Sure, he made some predictable choices. But he also sang Jamie Cullum’s “Twentysomething,” and that is basically a direct path to my heart. Then he busted out the Rock Band and that very cute Ryan Watkinson joined him on stage in a tight tee-shirt. And in my intoxicated state, I thought this was incredible and groundbreaking.
I ended the night eating cup-o-noodles on my couch at nearly two am, trying desperately to sober up a bit before bed. I had work in the morning, after all. Adulthood was calling. But mostly, I was just pleased with how unexpectedly wonderful my night had turned out. And how I had just witnessed an early, important chapter in what’s looking more and more like a long and storied career.