First Saturdays at The Brooklyn Museum are usually decently cluster fuck-y, but add to that 3 buzzy bands and a far-too-lengthy performance by a local high school marching band and you have all the right ingredients for a pretty stiff anxiety cocktail. San Francisco's Grass Widow sounded great, and seeing them was a treat after missing the two sold out shows they played earlier in the week, but grumpy entitled photographers pushed, huffed, puffed, and argued in the front of the stage so much that it made the experience unpleasant for everyone within ear shot. Add to that a crowd of bratty kids, confused older people, and uber-hipsters and ugh, I don't even want to think about it anymore. We didn't even stick around long enough to get a look at the exhibit.
8/10
