One More Thing About How Women Are Great

So, Women finally came to my city last night. They were great the last time I saw them, but now they’re even better (and louder! so much louder). The night’s highlight was the precise moment when the melody of “Can’t You See” emerged from beneath an extended intro of layered cacophony, though there were many other contenders (“China Steps,” “Heat Distraction,” January 8th,” “Shaking Hand,” the list goes on). My friend counted and at one point declared that we were two of six actual women in attendance; two of the many men, it traveled around the room in a faux-detached whisper, were Geologist and Bradford Cox, and the latter’s presence I can empirically confirm, as he is a hard dude to miss in a crowd. (He also seemed as genuinely excited about Women as I was, and, from my wholly subjective vantage point, incredibly nice). It was an unseasonable 89 degrees in DC, but at least two members of the touring bands were wearing wool sweaters, and at least one member of the touring bands appeared, my friend and I suspected, to be wearing long underwear underneath a wool sweater, but nobody even broke a sweat, which was a feat that I chalked up to being distinctly Canadian. It was easily one of the best shows I’ve seen this year. The only thing that could have been better was that, as I was shuffling up to the band and preparing an always engaging “Uhhhhh, your set was great” confrontation, Bradford Cox politely walked up and got to them first. Coxblocked, as it were.