Crush Krill Destroy!

It seems that all I've been doing with these magic live music grace moments (no, not necessarily best performances, just memorable fragments from a concert-going life) is romancing the past, as if I hadn't seen a show since I grew out of my knee britches (but I have to admit, that Aaron Burr Experience really rocked Fraunces Tavern back in the day!). So here's one from last fall, just to show I'm hep with the kidz.

It's late in a fine set by The Decemberists, aided and abeted by Petra Haden (who opened the evening with a gorgeous two-ways chorus of women singing The Who Sells Out a cappella in its entirety) on violin and vocals, and everyone could probably go home happy if it would not turn out to be their horrible fate to be eaten by a leviathan. That's because, before heading into the crazed tarantella of "The Mariner's Revenge Song" (no summary required), we are coached as to our role in the performance: when the band's guitarist comes across the stage operating two very paper and therefore not too menacing whale jaws, we are all to scream as if krill.

How often are you given license to yell your head off as if you're dying? What does it mean that it's fun?