Let me tell you where it ends. First: losing your virginity to “I’ll Believe Anything.” Not literally, but in the mind, where reality is a musical. Wolf Parade performed the tune as an encore. You may recall a lovely video involving duels and cannons punctuating the chorally vocal nature of a well-produced track. Live, Spencer Krug’s voice penetrates the song. It gets personal. Sally* turns 18. Sally’s in the woods. She just left a boy with amazing hair by a secluded log. She returns to her friends roasting marshmallows and frankfurters together into what they’ve dubbed “hot dog smores.” She jabs some marshmallows on a stick, stares at the fire, noticing she will never look at a tree the same way, envisioning how a few moments ago she flipped over backwards off a fallen log, enraptured by a warm, twinkling sensation. One pal says, “Dude, your marshmallows are done.” They’ve gone from charred to puddy, dripping off her stick into yellow flames. “Why are you smiling?” Another friend reaches over and pulls leaves out of Sally’s hair. Her cheeks glow pink, a mirror for the fire’s reflection. This giddiness steamed off everyone’s heads leaving the Wolf Parade concert. Of note, each band member has a lovely idiosyncrasy. Arlen Thompson closes his eyes, Dan Boeckner’s head does a bird of paradise-like propulsive bobbing, Dante DeCaro swings his bass around like a merry-go-round, Spencer and Hadji Bakara both thrust and pulse their upper halves precariously close to smacking their faces on their instruments. Hadji might actually be playing his effects pedals with his forehead. All the boys clang away on their toys and it’s almost impossible to figure out how such crisp sounds emerge out of wild bashing. Harmonics are hard! Like a log…

* We are all Sally. This is absolutely not a true story.

– Daiana Feuer