Hit by the Unexpected at the National

I didn't expect to be at the National for 5 3/4 hours. so I'll do the abridged version of a really interesting night full of unexpected surprises.

Doors were at 7 and NYC's the Postelles were to take the stage at 8.

They didn't bring their garage pop to life until 9:00, then played a tight, energetic set ("I hear Beach Boys and Green Day chord changes," a friend observed) and were gone before we knew it.

Twin Tigers set up immediately and disappeared for the longest time.

When they did come back, it was to apologize for the delay and play that dream noise/wall of guitars/ shoegaze sound of which I'm so fond.

I saw people move to the lobby and insert earplugs, but I loved it from the first distorted chord and wished their set had been longer.

Then more waiting,

Finally someone important came out and told us that after playing Letterman, Interpol had tried to catch their plane, only to be delayed by all the thunderstorms and tornadoes.

They got as far as Newark and sat.

And waited.

They were, he said, "on their way and should arrive by midnight."

Anticipating a surly crowd, he offered refunds to those willing to give up a midnight Interpol show, sure to be a rare treat.

I wasn't going anywhere except to the upstairs bar to kill an hour by getting a snack.

The bar was mobbed with those choosing to stay, but after ordering I ran into the unexpectedly charming lead singer of Twin Tigers, Matthew, talking to some fans.

When he finished, I asked him (what else?) what he was listening to these days.

First thing out of his mouth was Beach House, ensuring an instant bond and much satisfying follow-up conversation (Van Halen was also mentioned, but I didn't dwell on that).

I ran into a guy I'd met at the Spoon show who gave me a hard time because I'd never contacted him ("I gave you my card and suggested we be friends," he accused. "Did you ever contact me? No.").

I detected some resentment on his part, but frankly, he hadn't even stayed for the entire Spoon show.

Very telling. I met a guy who told me his mother had once slept with Peter Buck of REM. TMI?

By the time we heard the crowd applauding as Interpol took the stage, my new friend asked me what I was doing after the show.

"You want to talk music some more?" I asked (his response was funny, direct and completely unbloggable), heading to the floor while he went to the band's merch table.

It was clear Interpol wanted to reward the stalwart for their patience.

They kicked off in high gear and didn't let up, playing equal amounts from Turn on the Bright Lights and Antics, much to the crowd's delight; newer material was interspersed throughout.

Aforementioned lead singer, a rabid Interpol fan, reappeared.

Interpol did two encores, a first in the three times I've seen them play.

They apologized repeatedly and thanked us for staying.

They played harder than I've ever seen them play and the devoted repaid them with adoration and enthusiasm.

Late starts, midnight snacks, failed friendship accusations, a much extended night, maternal sexual revelations and a musician handing me a napkin with his phone number on it (offered with a funny but unbloggable comment).

And my personal favorite: music from a cave.

It doesn't get more unexpected than all that...even for me and my random life.