Hipster boys say the darndest things: Special indie rock edition

I haven't been overhearing many random remarks from Toronto's hipster boys lately: maybe I'm just not paying attention. Instead, here's some stage patter from concerts I have been to recently.

They Might Be Giants, Mod Club, July 23:
John Flansburgh: John, I don't understand what the hell you're talking about. Why don't you write about it on your blog?
John Linnell: [mysteriously] This is my blog.

Andrew Bird, Opera House, Sept. 25:
[Produces a See 'n' Say and points the arrow at the chicken. The See 'n' Say makes an inappropriate animal noise, like a moo or a quack. Exasperatedly]: This isn't a See 'n' Say, it's a time machine.

Shout Out Out Out Out, Lee's Palace, October 26:
Nik Kozub [to one of the 2 (!) drummers, who was nursing a torn rotator cuff]: Dude, your rotator cuff is so fucked, it has its own postal code.

I have never seen a Toronto audience get up and move like they did at last night's Shout Out Out Out Out show. There was a whole lot of sweating and arm-waving and jumping up and down. Plus, the band brought snacks. They passed one of those sectioned plastic supermarket trays of Halloween-coloured candies into the audience ("Crowd-surf the snack tray! Share! Crowd-surf the snack tray!"), and they threw bananas. I was there with Bret and Casey, and Bret caught one of the bananas and passed it on to me on the condition that I blog it, so here it is:



OK, now I have to go make this banana into a smoothie and finish grading midterms.