When people think of spring break, they probably conjure up visions of fun MTV-style parties, gorgeous weather, and lots of alcohol. I made the difficult choice of giving all that up in order to go see a couple of concerts with friends, which ended up resulting in a more colorful vacation than I had anticipated.

The first band we saw was Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks at the El Rey Theater in Los Angeles. Now, I haven’t been to more than a couple dozen concerts in my life, but I’ve definitely noticed a growing trend at the small venues like the El Rey. Regardless of how excited you actually are to be at the concert, the LA hipsters act like they’re 100 percent indifferent. It seems to be that if most of the people at the concert have gone through the trouble of buying tickets, buying the albums, driving out there, and finding parking, it’s safe to assume that they actually do care about seeing this band in concert. But still, so many people there were acting as if they were forced to be there: standing still, barely clapping, and giving the band blank stares.

Thankfully, the show ended up being great enough to arouse some display of emotion from the crowd. The opening band was The Swords Project, a Portland seven-piece band on the Absolutely Kosher label. Their songs have almost no lyrics, and are sort of long, dreamy, loud "elaborate post-rock symphonies", according to their label. Anyway, they were really good. Sort of like a less electronic, happier Radiohead. Their music was a lush, sonic soundscape.

Then that old Stephen Malkmus nonchalantly walked onto the stage, which was strange. I’ve seen so many pictures and interviews that it was almost surreal seeing him about three feet away from me. He had gotten rid of the mullet he was sporting, and he looked just the same as he does in print, except much taller and much skinnier. Friends have told me that Malkmus always acts like he’d rather be anywhere else rather than be in concert. And though he wasn’t strutting about the stage, or smashing his guitars, he seemed completely comfortable playing, and he even chatted a little bit. When the jocks behind us kept yelling "Uncle Steve, Uncle Steve," he smirked and mockingly imitated them by saying, "Uncle Steve, can we sit in your lap?" Toward the end of the night, a zealous fan yelled, "You’re the king of modern rock." Malkmus didn’t throw out a sarcastic or biting comment; he graciously–and somewhat incredulously–smiled.

It was a nice surprise that Malkmus sounded just as good, if not better, than he does on the album, and he even threw in a new song and some covers of Fairport Convention and The Wipers. His guitar playing seemed to impress everyone, and people chuckled at his jumping jacks and kicks. When Malkmus jumped around briefly, it was playful and cute. The only bad thing about the concert was the addition of Malkmus’ girlfriend, Heather. She’s not officially in the band, but she insists on doing aerobics on the stage while she claps and plays the tambourine. Even when Malkmus is playing a slow, sad song that was written about the death of his close friend, Heather dances around and shakes her ass.

We went to see Malkmus again the next night in San Diego, at Cannes Bar and Grill, and it was another good show. The opening band this night was Creeper Lagoon, a Bay-area band that I feel like I should know, since SPIN named them the best new artists of the year in 1998. Although it was a little disconcerting that the lead singer, Ian Sefchick, bears an uncanny resemblance to Wordsworth. Creeper Lagoon sounded a lot like Dinosaur, Jr. and they played a great, loud show. It was pretty nice being up front at a venue so small that Malkmus inadvertently spit on me.

The shows reminded of how fun it is to get off campus and see both new music and bands I love. Although it can be a hassle to get to LA sometimes, even the local places like The Glass House in Pomona have some good shows coming up, like The Juliana Theory, Low, Fenix TX, Phantom Planet, and The Vandals.