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Ben Kweller’s Pants

It’s up to me if I decide to be what I think is right.
– Ben Kweller

April 1, 2004, Pittsburgh, PA: Ben Kweller co-headlined with Death Cab for Cutie for the last big show at Club Laga, Pittsburgh’s bigger, more industrial version of Caledonia Lounge. As a working-class city, Pittsburgh has never been at the forefront of fashion and, at this point, was in a post-grunge hangover, as you could tell by my CD cases: Alice in Chains, Tool, Radiohead, Bright Eyes. Heavy alternative rock was giving way to indie singer-songwriters, but baggy and boot-cut jeans were still the norm.

I was leaning on the balcony rail above the stage, watching roadies check mics and tune up guitars. The crowd was in a weird mood. Everyone was hugging. Girls whispered about Ben Kweller. Guys talked about Death Cab.

Death Cab came on stage. The drums rolled up, and a guitar chord struck the room twice. Ben Gibbard sang, “So this is the new year,” and the crowd fell right in. We voyaged through the songs of Transatlanticism, soaking up the architecture and energy of our beloved club. At the end of the set, the crowd was hopeful but weary. We were ready for Kweller.

A lone keyboard was set up onstage. A tall guy with moppy hair walked over to the keyboard in the tightest pants anyone in the room had ever seen. Every single person looked at the person beside them and said, “Oh my God. Look at Ben’s pants.” Despite the reactions, he slammed down on the keys, and the whole place rocked out.

The murmuring over Kweller’s pants returned between each song. There were so many questions. So much confusion. People began to shout things about the pants. I couldn’t tell if Kweller was terrified or loving it. Or both. And, you know, that’s probably a normal reaction for anyone experiencing Pittsburgh for the first time. After “Commerce, TX,” a woman yelled out above the crowd, “Tell us about your pants!” He dismissed the remark and started singing, “When I was an astronaut…”, and we all sang along.

When the song was over, Kweller looked at us and answered the girl’s earlier question, “They’re girls pants.” And the crowd went wild.

Something in us changed that night. I don’t know if I can express what it was exactly. It’s not like Pittsburgh guys started wearing skinny jeans or stopped listening to Pearl Jam, but our minds had been opened. Our worldview expanded. Ben Kweller gave us a gift that night. At the end of one era, a glance into the next. A peek into our hipster future.

(You can find a live recording of this show and hear Ben Kweller talk about his girl pants by searching for “Ben Kweller Live at Club Laga on 2004-04-01” at archive.org.)

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