In spring of 2000, I saw Luna play a sparsely-attended, outdoor concert at Penn State, opening for Luscious Jackson, Mighty Mighty Boss Tones (I think?), Reel Big Fish, and various other inferior bands. The snowboard club had set up a bouncy tent to the left of the stage, and occasionally drunk West College hippies contorted into view. Billy threw grass at me. And I was entirely enthralled.
A creature of seasonal habits, ever since, when the first full-on day of spring hits, I throw open the windows, throw on a Luna record, and pretend that I’ve just turned twenty. Worked like a charm every single time. Enjoy the beautiful weather and the lazy, VU-flecked pop, East Coasters.