Classin’ it up, The Congress Theater played the role of a Ke$ha-themed kegger Saturday, March 5. Girl Talk was in town, the mash-up maker known by his birth certificate as Gregg Gillis, to bring the American Apparel bandage skirts and face paint-clad teenagers out of their parents’ cars and into the sold-out venue for a second night.”Warming up” the crowd of displaced high school rebels were openers Max Tundra and Junk Culture. Both were almost blatantly ignored by the crowd of kids scoping out someone to juke with and someone else they could convince to buy them a beer to hold. It’s not like they were missing much; the 2-hour stretch before Gillis was a big, confusing yawn. Was either act a DJ, band or dude with a MacBook, drumset and karaoke machine? Got me. I guess that time slot needed something to fill the air besides pot smoke (those sneaky kids.).
When the painful wait had finally ended and the Congress was at its absolute hipster-infiltrated capacity, the full-wall LED lights ignited and the chant along with the flashes of “Girl Talk” gained momentum. Gillis and his good friend the laptop made their way to the table center stage. Cue the release of I-don’t-give-a-damn dance moves, middle school-style grind trains and overall juvenile insanity. And then there’s the literal release of the toilet paper cannons, confetti and balloon showers and inflated objects parade.
The show started with the Black Sabbath-meets-Ludacris pairing that opens “Oh No” on Gillis’ latest album, “All Day.” Not even 30 seconds in, the stage was brimming with boys and girls maniacally dancing like their mamas don’t know they’re out. After the “Oh No” tease, the samples followed no pattern familiar on any of his CDs. Still, the show was well-paced and effectively kept the crowd going positively bonkers.
Even the folks way back behind the railings, that area typically designated for casual drinking and pickup lines, were dancing. Even the people in the balcony were dancing. Although my view was blocked by flailing arms and confetti, I’ll bet you cash that even the security guards were tappin’ a foot or two.
Halfway through, a now shirtless, sweat-drenched Gillis was bouncing around behind his laptop, occasionally jumping around almost on top of his laptop. For a man who doesn’t play any instruments, he somehow pulled off an entertaining concert, if we’re calling this a concert.
Nothing slowed down until about four “songs” (there was really no distinction of when songs started and ended, if they ever did start or end) before the show’s 11:30 p.m. stopping point. But not because of boredom or lack of excitement over the grand finale balloon drop-blame exhaustion. If Gillis had come out with another encore, half the Congress might have dropped dead. He called it quits just in time (really, JUST in time, maybe a little too late). But even if Gillis wanted to extend the set for another audience TP-ing, it seems people would have been completely willing to dance themselves to death.