Get Off My Lawn

Hello, Tir Na Nog.  We need to talk.  I love Local Band/Local Beer.  I love that the crowd inside becomes a different microcosm of North Carolina every single Thursday, depending on what type of band is playing.  I love the 20 oz Highland Gaelic.  I love the stone wall.  I love the friendly bartenders.  I love that it’s a perfect place to walk downtown with friends, and have a girls’ night on a Thursday.

But last night: the music was ungodly loud.  What the heck happened, between July and August, for the music to become so loud as to be painful?  Even the canned background music between bands was so loud that, shouting back and forth, my friend and I could not understand each other. How are we to have girl talk and flirt with Raleigh’s handsome men  between sets, if we have to shout at them?  It’s not an attractive way to communicate.   I always travel with earplugs, just in case, and of course yesterday I forgot them.  It was so loud that we decided to bail on Onward, Soldiers, before they ever got onstage.  And I really like Onward, Soldiers.  Sorry guys.

I know.  Those of us complaining that the music is too loud, are in danger of turning into the lady who stands on her porch with a baseball bat, yelling at the neighborhood kids to Get Off My Lawn.  But I will point out that I sat 10 feet from the stage for the Dutch screamo punk band at Tir Na Nog.   And I liked it.  So I’m not convinced it’s me.  Even the twenty-somethings last night looked uncomfortable.  I’ve never seen more people retreat to the sidewalk.

I’m not giving up on Tir Na Nog yet.  But next time, I am taking a round of earplugs for the crowd.  And maybe an etch-a-sketch, so we can take turns writing notes to each other.

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