Girl Talk: Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

After much anticipation, myself and a close group of friends headed out to the Newport Music Hall to see the first of two sold out Girl Talk shows in Columbus this weekend. Doors were at 7 P.M. and when we pulled into the parking garage across the street at the OSU Student Union, the line already stretched down the block.

The crowd was interesting to say the least. Think lots of hot pink tights and silver spandex accentuated with blatant panty lines. Young boys in old t-shirts reppin' their nonexistent days of Steve Erkel and Pac Man and metallic headbands across the forehead like something out of an MGMT video. Some went for the club kids look while others sported the high neon stilettos and mini dresses that scream "I had to put this on in the parking lot cause mom would kill me if she saw what I bought with her credit card."

After checking out the crowd the plan was to start drinking and at a rather alarming speed. Average wait for a drink: 42 seconds. It's not like any of these kids were legal. Potato salad container beers for $7 and Smirnoff Ice bottles (cause Candice rolls high class) for $4.50, $4.25, $5 or whatever other varying amount the bartender wanted to charge you.

The first band stepped out onto the stage at around 7:30 P.M. Some rap group whose name I didn't even catch muffled under their ski masks and the apple they were eating and spitting out on stage. It was a little ridiculous. Something out of a seventh mile rap battle featuring white dudes who want to tell it like it is while picking out two random chicks from the audience to dance on stage. To all aspiring artists out there, please do not ever do this. Not even Snoop Dogg can make this look cool and lord knows he's tried. Not only is it pathetic but it's so awkward that even the crowd can help but feel embarrassed watching young white college girls trying to hype the crowd by shaking their Jo Jeans and silk cami's. No. Sorry. Try again.

If that wasn't bad enough, out came a band called Hearts of Darkness. I would hyperlink to them however they don't even have a website. I even have a website. Think screamo indie wannabes performing at their high school talent show that had no tryout requirement. Not even these tweaked out youngsters thought they were worth a decent ovation. We went outside a good three times to join the smokers in the bitter cold just to avoid the terrible sounds this band let out. While out there we planned making money in our own band. Hey... if these guys can score a gig, we should be able to pull it off too. I can surly hit a tambourine better than this jabroni.

After they moved off stage the crowd began to chant for Girl Talk. But not too fast, kiddos. Gregg Gillis was going for a THIRD opener. What a diva! This was getting a little irritating, yet luckily the white rap duo from Pittsburgh, Grand Buffet, albeit quirky and odd were actually halfway decent. Lyrics were a little out there with the closing song titled My Cream Cheese Money, but they were there to hype the crowd and they definitely seemed to get the job done.

Finally around 10 P.M. Girl Talk takes the stage. Gregg comes out and stands post at a simple table with a Toughbook computer and some other electronic equipment I won't pretend to know anything about. He opens up the stage and people jump right up. Now I see the point of the eccentric outfits. The goal is to be seen on stage by everyone else, which was never more apparent than when girls spent the entire concert not enjoying the music and dancing, but rather fighting for their spot next to Gregg and along his table. (I'm talking to you red head girl in white tee and wrap scarf. That bouncer only tried to get you off ten times. You're a persistent - and obnoxious - one, aren't ya?)

The crowd was moving. People were sweating. Some even tried to crowd surf which never really turns out that well; Leave that to the Primus fans - at least they practice in their basement first. A slew of drunk girls holding onto the sides of the stacked speakers just trying to hold themselves up and look sexy doing it (FAIL). Toilet paper on paint rollers attached to leaf blowers and buckets of confetti kept the crowd looking up, which was necessary in order to dodge the glow sticks flying through the air. If you weren't there to dance, you needed to leave and some did just that.

If you expected to hear some of your favorite songs from Feed the Animals or Night Ripper, you would have been sorely disappointed. While many of his song combinations were ones that he used before, his live mixes don't incorporate nearly as many songs as those on his album.

Overall it was a great show. I would have showed up three hours later had I know that there was going to be three separate opening acts, but if the point was to get us drunk before GirlTalk took the stage, they succeed as we only had time and beers to kill.

I have to give much respect to the man himself. Mr. Gillis has the body of a marathon runner which comes from his strenuous performances. It's just him up there running the show and it's his job to keep the crowd going. He is in a constant state of trashing and clapping that has him working up an unbelievable sweat. Aerobics on speed, if you will. After attending a Girl Talk concert, I can't think of a better name than Feed the Animals. That's certainly what he does.