Spanky’s Star Struck
Spanky and I were on our way to the Fall Out Boy concert Friday night when I said if I was a psych major I’d do research on why people like certain songs over others. Those things fascinate me.
She popped in a Led Zeppelin CD and when it got to “Stairway to Heaven” I asked her what I always ask when that song plays, “Why do you think so many people say this is the best rock song ever created? Is it the lyrics, or is it the music? Or both?
I tell her one thing I’ve noticed about people and that song. When somebody dies, a surviving friend will wear that song out. I’ve see grown men cry to it.
Then we just listen and allow each other to point and say, “This is my favorite part” several times.
“Wait, no, this part.”
“That one too.”
We both agree the section when the drums come in is also our favorite part.
I tell Spanky it’s as if someone took the favorite parts of a bunch of songs and put them all in Stairway to Heaven. She agrees. She also knows we will talk about this again next time we hear the song. We’ve been on a Zeppelin tear for a good two weeks running.
The concert, yeah…
We had some fantastic pit tickets and got there to see Fifty Cent open. Spanky said it was surreal being fifteen feet from him. She never thought she would ever end up in the same room with Fitty. I, too, found it absurd.
But hey, you gotta respect a guy who got shot in the face and lived to sing about it.
I had seen Fall Out Boy perform live on tv before and wasn’t expecting much. Some bands just can’t cut it live. They were great and we were blown away by their performance. Stumps vocals were in tune and it’s early in the tour so everyone’s fresh.
Hanging to the back of the pit works well for us, we can see everything and are still close. At one point a huge mosh pit opened up and I teased Spanky, told her if she could run straight through “the hole” without getting slammed she’d end up right next to center stage. It wasn’t the usual mosh pit, not rough at all, so we did actually make a run for it and got about 5 people deep from the stage. In the sweet middle, right in front of Patrick Stump.
It was great for a few songs and then the moshers decided to make another pit behind us. I didn’t want to get shoved around, so I took off toward the back of the crowd. Spanky didn’t follow. I couldn’t see where she was, but I knew she would be okay and find me soon.
I kept scanning the crowd for her, walking around the pit edges and then finally parking myself to the front and side of the stage where I could see faces. Where was Spank?
I had just grabbed the barricade and was pretty much by myself because it was such an extreme distance from where the action on the stage was. Then Pete Wentz (the one all the fan girls scream over) jumped on a speaker directly in front of me. He smiled at me then made this flapping motion with his arms. Like a bird. Dude, it was freaky. I think he wanted his picture taken.
So I took pictures!
It really sucked that I didn’t have my good camera.
A little later Wentz jumped off the stage and hung over the barracade to sing. Half his body was directly over the people in center front. Where was Spanky?
No wonder she didn’t come looking for me. He was singing right in her face.
After the show, on the drive home, we resumed Zeppelin analysis. Spanky told me she couldn’t think straight. I told her she was star struck.
As we drove into the garage, Zeppelin’s “Misty Mountain Hop” was playing. We got out of the car and Spank said, “That song’s funny, I think it’s about how they’re hanging in the park, the cops come to make arrests but end up smoking pot with them.”
I say, “Hang on, did I miss something? I never heard that part.”
So we listen to the song again once we get into the house. There’s something about a policeman and tea. Spanky says, “Oh, not pot, mushroom tea.”
I crack up. Tell her Zeppelin’s British and they drink tea like we drink coffee. She giggles like the school girl she is and turns red, red, red.
Projekt Revolution 2008 Set Times
This is from the booklet they gave out at the entrance and not specific to the Dallas show. Keep in mind that show times could change.
Just Blane and I went to this one. Since it was just the two of us, we got gold seats which means they mailed us a package with a couple of metal Linkin Park water bottles, LP bandanas, and a lanyards to wear. The seats were pretty close to the stage and I am getting quite good at sneaking my DSLR into concerts. Haven’t uploaded anything yet, but I’m sure I got at least one decent photo of the hundreds I took.
We couldn’t have asked for better weather. It threatened to pour down rain, but all we got was a cool breeze the entire evening.
This is the first year LP takes this tour to Europe and I understand they sold more tickets to each show there than they did in the States. Maybe we are too spoiled with all the great music that comes around here.
Linkin Park’s performance was just as energetic as last year’s show but the voices were a bit worn as the they hit Dallas late in the tour this time around. Still excellent, but not as flawless as last year.
Warped Tour 2008 Set List (Dallas Show)
:::Click Here::: to enlarge.
Always great to have one of these before a show. If you are going to Warped Tour in a city near you, keep in mind the bands and set times change with each date, so think of this as a rough guide.
Just wanted to get this up here as it is quite useful to some people. I’ll write more about this later and post some photos along with it.
Here’s a list of all the bands on the tour and the dates they will play. Note that not all bands play on all dates. Some do.
Also note that there is a Hurley Stage (that would be the bigger one) and a Hurley.com Stage (small stage). A lot of people got these two mixed up.
I’ve added more photos and a few tips about Warped Tour :::here:::
Honda Civic Tour 2008 (Concert-Dallas)
One of Sweetpea’s friends came over last week saying she had to offload two Honda Civic Tour (Dallas concert) tickets due to a scheduling conflict.
Spanky and I just looked at each other, quite surprised at our good fortune. Headlining that tour was Panic At The Disco, one of her favorite bands. I never liked them until a few weeks ago, with the release of their “Pretty. Odd.” CD.
Spank and I dropped everything and went, of course. She says she feels she must to do a review of the show so people will open their minds to this band. I don’t know if she’ll get to it though, she has a pretty bad cold right now.
I’ll give you a run down of what it was like for me.
First, the cool factor. There is nothing about being at a concert that makes me feel cool or hip, especially one such as this where most of the fans are teenaged girls and I am one of the oldest persons in the place. I keep in mind that all the teenagers at these concerts probably don’t feel cool, either (it comes with being that age), AND I don’t think a single person notices me, anyway.
Is it horrifying? Maybe for a hip music reviewer who can’t stop thinking about how out of place he/she is for being there at the age of over 25. I find it taints their work and the reviews are not usually well thought out but a hit job on the talent because of who their audience is. They should actually pay attention to these acts because they grow with their audiences and change styles as these kids get older.
Panic At The Disco (PATD) is a perfect example of this. Spanky started listening to them when she was about twelve. I wasn’t too crazy about their music then, it was a bit on the whiney side. Three years later, this band has a new CD, “Pretty. Odd.” and it is exceptional. I’d think if one likes the Beatles, they’d like some of these songs. Maybe. Beatles fans can be a bit possessive about a music style and shout, “That’s a rip-off!” I don’t feel this way since I’m not happy with a finite set of tunes.
Now, about the show.
Starter bands usually suck because they’re new and trying to make a name for themselves. We were downright shocked with the first band, Phantom Planet (here’s their MySpace page). They’re not new, but I think they’ve recently become “quite good.” I don’t even know how to categorize them, it’s like classic and new rock rolled into one package. Their live performance was spectacular and missing their set because they are the first band would be a big mistake for anyone with a Honda Civic Tour ticket. Trust me on that. It’s forty-five minutes of pure music bliss.
The second band, The Hush Sound was excellent, if you like breeezy California rock. The front-woman, Greta Salpeter’s voice is pristine, but sounds a bit too much like other popular front women vocalists such as Hayley Williams of Paramore, Avril Lavigne, and Lacey Mosley of Flyleaf. After about three songs, Spank and I were hoping they’d hush their sound as it got into Brady Bunch territory.
Third in the lineup, Motion City Soundtrack, another of Spanky’s favorite pop-rock bands. I don’t like their music, but they performed well. I was fixated on Jesse Johnson’s (synthesizer) dramatic emo bang. One of the things I like to do at these concerts is get at least one great photo of something unusual. That was my challenge of the night, to capture this thing. The guy has this chunk of hair in the front that is about a foot long while the rest of his hair is buzz cut length. The entire time he plays, he rocks his head back and forth really fast and this hair thing is an act of its own.
Come on, emo bang, cooperate.
Yes, you.
It’s hard enough fighting the lights and fog.
Don’t get all smug. you haven’t won, yet.
Ha ha, Gotcha!
Now for the headliner, Panic At The Disco, which started at about 10 PM. Their lead vocalist, Brendon Urie pulled off his part with perfection. I usually find that about half the time at any given show of any given band the vocals are not en forme. All four bands on this tour did surprisingly well as far as vocals go. It could be that this is the first week of the tour and voices are still fresh.
Okay, Spanky just passed by and said to save her some space for her forthcoming review. Yay, Spank saved the day. It won’t be in this post as she hasn’t started it yet.
In the meantime, I’ve uploaded a few photos here, if you’re interested.
Here’s a YouTube I uploaded of one of my favorite songs from their current CD. What’s funny about this video is what’s happening at the beginning, left of screen. A security guard struggles to heave a kid out of the pit. Reminds me of birthing. From my perspective, a mom bringing her kid to a concert… well you get the metaphor.
Maybe it’s just me, but I can hear Spanky’s voice singing in there. Funny thing.
Oh, and about the venue. What’s odd is how the name of the venue changes with the type of music… They call it the Palladium Ballroom for rock concerts, but Gilley’s the rest of the time.
Gilley’s as in Urban Cowboy. Mechanical bulls. Country music. Small place. Small crowd.
This was a great show. Go see it if it comes to your city.
Flustered
Okay, here’s a photo I took at the concert last night. This is Modest Mouse.
Notice the two drummers.
The little mouse perched near the drums.
The banjo.
The modded bass.
There’s Waldo.
Concerts are difficult to photograph because of the changing light conditions and the evil fog.
Gotta run, going to the HDNet fights. Should get some great photos there.
Gerard Way OR Jared Leto?
Tonight we are taking the girls to a concert at the Nokia. Last time we were there we were waiting for the Pumpkins to come onstage and the girls were arguing over who was better looking, Gerard Way or Jared Leto. I broke the tie with my vote for Way.
Then Blane chimed in and said, “Oh, Leto is much better looking than Gerard Way, that’s a no-brainer…” And then the disclaimer, “Not that I’m gay or anything.”
Guys and their gay disclaimers.
Anyway, we’re back to a tie. So who’s better looking?
Jared Leto?
Or
Gerard Way?
Smashing Pumpkins Review (Spanky Returns)
Spanky is my 14 year-old wonder child. Smart, witty, sarcastic. I love her concert reviews because of her unique perspective, too young to have seen it all. On the diving board from kid to adult, she takes a good long look around before jumping in. Here’s my Spanky’s review of the Smashing Pumpkins’ concert at the Nokia Theatre in Dallas.
Another concert, another review. Living the party life is terribly difficult for one such as myself, but I suffer it to bring to you, my dear readers, another fantastic account of the oddities of concert experience.
To begin from the amusing beginning, I will note that it seems that somehow, my timing is always off, from the small things to the large. This concert was no different.
I decided that I would dress up for the occasion for once, having a grand old time choosing my outfit to insane perfection.
Sadly, the concertgoers were not sporting any similar fashions.
This is to say, I stuck out like… a girl in neon blue and black striped knee socks in a crowd of “normal” people.
I did not have much of a problem with the more reserved, thus infinitely more mature mannerisms of the crowd until later in the evening.
As we’d gotten to the theatre early, we decided to listen to the opening band.
A mistake on our part.
The sole part of my musical experience on the behalf of What Made Milwaukee Famous that I enjoyed was the keyboard. I found it reminiscent of highly energetic techno, which is always good fun, no matter where or what you are.
After they played their last (agonizing) song, the lights flipped on and the excited murmurs began, even though the Smashing Pumpkins would not be out for quite some time. Instead of sitting around to hear people talk amongst one another for thirty minutes, my sister and I decided to watch the experience of another titan of the concert life.
Concert food.
I cannot claim to have tasted every food in this particular hemisphere, however, I can attest to the possibility that concert food is in the top ten worst of all of these foods.
It’s terribly unseasoned, not to mentioned often lukewarm and calling to one’s mind something to the effect of has this been cooked properly?
Needless to say, we passed on that prospect.
Seating ourselves once more, we waited with bated breath for the main act.
The Smashing Pumpkins, I must say, did not disappoint, not in the least.
They played amazingly well, and even the elongated guitar solos did not seem too embellished or unnecessary in the grand scheme of things, although I am still bewildered as to how they could see with the lights behind them that had, on several occasions, burned my eyeballs into a state of temporary blindness.
The most popular songs were the ones played off of the album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, “Bullet with Butterfly Wings,” and, “Tonight, Tonight,” having enormous popularity with the crowd.
The most popular was “1979.”
With good reason.
“1979” was very likely the best-performed song of the evening.
The decision for it to be played on acoustic guitar with no accompaniment whatsoever what a highly intelligent one, simplifying the song and allowing more of the raw emotion to come out of it. The comfortable familiarity radiated off of the crowd like a contagious heat, slowly soaking in until when Corgan stopped playing the guitar entirely and was left to only singing, there was nothing that could be called silence, the voices of the crowd filling the void left by the instrument.
When the band had picked up at a faster tempo once more, I noticed something highly troubling.
Namely, the lack of crowd-surfing.
I have previously stated that crowd-surfing is one of my favorite parts of attending concerts, and although I could understand the absence of such activity from such a well-behaved crowd, I was a little disheartened by it.
Thankfully, we had a teenager most likely off of his Ritalin for the weekend right in front of us, dancing like there was no Monday to come, for my own private entertainment.
There came a time nearing the end of the concert that called for a questioning of one’s surroundings.
This time was when the beginning riff of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” began to resonate from deep within the hearts of the speakers.
It was at such a time that one could be expected to lose all posterity and demand quite plainly, “Say what?”
Indeed, it was “Iron Man,” and a very good cover at that, definitely doing the original the justice it deserves.
Go see for yourself:
But the covers did not end there, oh no.
Next came “I Love Rock and Roll,” (yes, I typed that correctly) which was, to say the least, amusing when sung by Billy Corgan.
Then they played a few more songs and walked off, making it entirely not obvious that they were going to be coming back and playing two encores.
Terribly, horribly not obvious.
After clapping in the dark for ten minutes, the elusive Smashing Pumpkins were lured back onto the stage, playing two more songs before leaving again after another bout of Corgan’s priceless crowd banter.
The lights were flipped on once again as the last reverberations from the speakers died away and with them went the last tangible vestiges of the magical evening.
My family was surprised that they hadn’t played, “Zero.”
I’m surprised I had been too caught up to notice.
I have to say, though, my most favorite part of the concert was definitely…
The keytar.
Cinemagypsy Must Be Destroyed
Eventually, I suppose, that is what’s going to happen. Bloggers drop out like flies after just a few posts, some last a year, some a little longer. Few go on for years.
I never thought mine would last this long. At first, it was an uncomfortable thing, putting up things about my personal life for anyone to find. I knew people would judge me, my family. My writing. That’s what people do.
These days, I don’t even think about that anymore.
So many people out there say, “My life is not interesting enough to blog about,” when I encourage them to start one. I don’t believe this. Everyone’s life is interesting. Not every second of it, certainly not mine. Cut to the good part and share. Or the bad part. You don’t have to write just about your life, you could write about something you saw. The lives of people you know. Teach somebody out there something.
I try to stick to my own life here because friends and relatives read to keep in touch. Most of them have never left a comment, perhaps they are afraid they, too, will be judged. I get a lot of emails from them, and that’s cool. (Keep them coming)
Now for something interesting.
Tonight, Tonight. We are taking the girls to see a Smashing Pumpkins concert. It’s a show that was supposed to take place on Nov. 3rd but was rescheduled. It’s their last concert on this tour and I’ve read the Pumpkins do some special things at their final shows. We’re excited about it, have had the tickets for months. Either Spanky or I will tell you all about it in the next few days.
If I outgrow and decide to destroy this blog one day, there will be plenty of notice. It won’t be any time soon.
Projekt Revolution 2007 Set Times
Here’s something I wish we’d been able to find online before the show, what times the bands are playing. One would think it’s printed on the ticket. It’s not.
This is from the booklet they gave out at the doors and not specific to the Dallas show. Keep in mind that show times could change. The shows did run about 15 minutes earlier than this schedule.
Also, if you are unable to get to Projekt Revolution, see it live online in August at myspace.com/nowwhat. Or you could paste this url into your media player and get a better stream:
http://myspacecom.edgeboss.net/wmedia-live/myspacecom/23091/750_myspacecom-projekt_revolution_070821.asx
If anyone knows the day of that MySpace show, speak up. [Edited note: The concert will air on August 22nd at 4:30 PM EST, 1:30 PST.]
Don’t miss Spanky’s Review of Projekt Revolution 2007.
If you are looking for 2008 set times, click here.
Spanky’s Projekt Revolution Review (Part 2)
This is my fourteen year-old daugter’s (Spanky’s) review of the last two bands that played at Project Revolution 2007 (Dallas):
It seems that every time I see My Chemical Romance they get better, and this was no exception. It was a flawless performance. Well, not entirely, but the flaws had nothing to do with the music and more to do with the… interesting behavior.
I’ll chalk it all up to the possibility that Gerard was simply feeling… rambunctious yesterday, and entirely ignore a possibility that he’s totally gay.
Because those dance movements made me bury my head and say softly to myself, “No, noo, nooooo.”
Ray, the lead guitarist, was, as always, almost stoic in that all he did was stand there and play. I like that about him, he’s a no-nonsense and no-pretending-to-be-gay sort of guy, he just straight up rocks out. I could see him smiling, though, and I also like it when I can see someone truly enjoying themselves performing.
In truth, Ray Toro does not get the attention he deserves.
This, of course, was ended when Gerard told him to take off his shirt.
Well, he also told Frank to take off his shirt, and he complied, so he then got Ray to take off his shirt, too. The fangirls were drooling, and anticipating the possibility of Gerard taking off his shirt as well. Luckily he didn’t, because if he had he probably would’ve gotten attacked by one of those aforementioned rabid fangirls.
Of course, I’m sure it was a relief to be taking off all of that hot, black clothing, because they must have been absolutely roasting under the pressure of the Texas heat, as well as the spotlights, not to mention the pyrotechnics.
Yes, pyrotechnics.
At first they scared me, then they fascinated me.
Because honestly, who can resist fire?
There were great columns of it shooting up from the machines whose purpose I now knew. Alternatively, they shot out firework-like things, and there was a point during “Welcome to the Black Parade” where another great machine rained sparks upon them.
And I, standing comfortably by my seat, hot and sweaty in a way but not as hot and sweaty as they were surely getting, could not help but think that this all seemed very dangerous.
I also felt a great wave of sheer pity for Bob, the drummer.
He was, after all, right next to the fire-machines, wearing a long-sleeved button-up black shirt, the sleeve of which he’d rolled up to his elbows. It must have been like an inferno, not to mention that he really, really pounds on those drums with all he’s got.
Also, Bob was the one who got a second-degree burn from some unruly pyrotechnics in one of their videos, so one could imagine that he was at least a little afraid of getting burned a second time.
It was when Gerard told the crowd to mosh and named a man in a Wrestlemania shirt the, “dance commander,” that I realized something about this crowd.
Simply put, they were not exactly overly enthusiastic.
This saddened me greatly.
I couldn’t even see Sir Dance Commander doing anything, much less the rest of the pit.
Sure, they would pump their fists in the air at times, but I didn’t really see any moshing or crowd-surfing.
Well, there went my entertainment for the night.
My Chemical Romance’s show was, I think, designed with the specific purpose of energizing the crowd. All of the songs they played were upbeat, with the exception of the song they played for closing, “Cancer.”
While I do very much love their fast-paced songs, I like seeing the maturity projected in their slower songs, the world-wariness and the wisdom.
There was one thing, though, that I missed dearly.
To make what would be a tedious, drawn-out paragraph full of adjectives commonly used whilst one is mourning, I missed Gerard acting all grown-up. I know we can’t act mature all the time, and maybe he just wanted to let loose and have fun, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Much.
Actually, there were two things I missed.
The second was Mikey, bassist and very cute brother of Gerard. Where are you, man? Your absence is being grieved right about now by about fifty thousand fangirls (myself included), you know. Well, I can’t blame you for needing time off to deal with stuff, but still. Poo.
I love watching “Cancer” live. I can feel the emotion in the air, heavy and heady, hanging around and building with each word and each chord struck on the piano until it’s nearly crushing. You can taste the sorrow, because a lot of the people there know what it’s like to lose someone. Every sadness is different, but they mix and mingle together, creating an atmosphere that’s been unrivaled at every single concert I’ve been to.
Gerard stands in the spotlight, singing along softly with the piano, the air vibrating with the emotion he’s able to convey through that amazing voice.
All too soon (and this time I really mean it), it’s over and the backdrop is gone and the instruments are being transported off by the roadies and people are starting to collect inside the auditorium-like thing, waiting.
Waiting for Linkin Park.
To be honest and not a kiss-up, I don’t really like Linkin Park. More like I really don’t like Linkin Park. They’ve got a few good songs, sure, but they’re not my type.
They set up, but I hadn’t really been paying attention.
In front of the stage were two very large expanses of thin, white material, veiling the stage.
And, of course, when the band got on stage we saw their silhouettes.
Leave it to musicians to have a thing for being melodramatic.
Instead of just having fun being silhouettes, they also had to have tons of colorful, flashing lights in the background.
There were enough strobe lights to make a horse epileptic.
Men around me were screaming like little girls and I was extremely disturbed.
Even if I don’t like Linkin Park too much and I wasn’t paying attention, really, I must admit that they played extraordinarily.
And, of course, the crowd actually got responsive. There were tons of crowd surfers, even if I couldn’t really see any mosh pits. Everyone was singing along and pumping their fists. People who had been lounging around outside of the auditorium-thing rushed in to watch and hear.
This influx of human life made for one very hot place.
And one smelly crowd.
I could feel the heat radiating off of all of the crazed fans, taste the sweat (which isn’t exactly delicious). All manifestations of the indescribable amount of heat were tangible at that time.
The band was also feeling this heat, which wasn’t surprising, seeing how many lights they had up. Originally, Bennington (because Chester is an awkward name) was wearing a black leather jacket, but he stripped down to a white tank top sort of shirt that ended up being totally drenched in sweat. You could see the sweat trickling off their faces on the big screens.
Personally, I think Bennington has a voice that is much more proper for something like opera. Don’t ask me why, I don’t really know. It’s a strange, strange thing.
We left before the actual end of the show, seeing as we didn’t really want to get stuck in post-concert traffic as we usually were and they’d played all of the songs we actually knew.
When I got home, all I really wanted to do was wash off all the sweat and go to sleep. I could feel its gritty presence on my skin, and that’s never pleasant.
Concerts are always so exhausting. -Spanky
If you missed Part One, check it out here.
For some shirtless shots of MCR, see MCR Unwrapped.
For Project Revolution Set times click here
Edited Note: If you are a Linkin Park fan headed to Projekt Revolution, make sure to check out the booths where you can buy a live recording of Linkin Park’s performance for that night. How? You buy the code to download the audio off the internet the next day. Take it as a promise the show is going to be stellar if they are preselling live recordings. Linkin Park is one of the best live performances we’ve ever been. Chester Bennington’s voice is as close to perfect as it gets. He doesn’t even need a mic. LP’s performance makes good on their promise in terms of music, vocals, performance, energy, crowd interaction…It’s got it all. -Kitty
Spanky’s Projekt Revolution Review (Part One)
As promised, Spanky did a review of a concert we just attended on Saturday, Projekt Revolution. It is a unique perspective because she is only fourteen. Don’t run off yet, the kid can write. Maybe one day you’ll see her work in The Rolling Stone. You never know.
Here she goes:
The drive to the Smirnoff Music Center was a long one. Well, sort of. When you’re fidgety it’s always a long drive, and I hadn’t brought any books with me, pity. So when we (we being my mother, father, and myself, as usual) got to the gates, they passed these weird detector things over us.
Long story short, they found my granola bar. They tried to make me throw it away, too. Over by another guard, they found my mom’s umbrella and apparently, you can’t take umbrellas in, either. So of course, while my dad was causing a ruckus about the umbrella, I slipped the granola-y goodness back into my pocket and kept on walking.
All of this commotion allowed us to sneak in some chicken nuggets for my sister, after all.
So we drifted about for a few minutes, sitting in the grass and talking with my sister and her friend and eating some of her chicken nuggets and a snowball. Then we figured since Taking Back Sunday was coming on soon we’d better hurry off to our seats.
So we lounged around in our seats while they set up for Taking Back Sunday, and here I’d like to take out the time to point out a rather infuriating concert phenomenon.
When the roadies (a.k.a. the people who cart the band’s stuff about) come onto the stage bearing an instrument or some other piece of equipment, the crowd will cheer loudly. It’s louder than loud. People often cheer louder for the roadies than the bands, which is just… puzzling.
I mean, yes, they do drag around the SAME GUITAR THAT YOUR HERO TOUCHED and they should get some credit for doing all the manpower-like work for your favorite effeminate rock stars, but they don’t really do anything other than the hauling and the tuning, so they don’t deserve more attention than the people who created the music that you bought your ticket to listen to live. (Sorry roadies. You are really cool. But not that cool.)
So first we saw, rising slowly, their signature marquee with the words, “TAKING BACK SUNDAY,” and under that, “LOUDER NOW.”
The decibel level of the screaming was slowly getting more and more frightening as the marquee-thing was rising higher and higher until it stopped in its final resting position. Of course, just because it stopped did not mean that the fangirls did.
Then, of course, TBS came on, amidst the high-pitched screaming of way too many girls packed into one space at one time.
I have to say, I did not have high expectations for this show.
Taking Back Sunday has sounded (sorry, you guys) just awful the past few times I’ve seen them, so I didn’t really think that we’d be getting a fantastic concert. I mean, I seriously thought Adam’s voice was ruined forever.
Way to prove me wrong.
They actually played very well. Everything was in tune, perfectly, and on tempo and everything.
And of course, Adam could sing again. I mean, yes, he couldn’t hit a few of the high notes and that made for some really awful moments, but it sounded infinitely better than before, and, of course, he had his faithful guitarist to back him up (I’ve always wondered how he’s able to do that, play guitar and sing at the same time).
And, as always, it was just pure fun to watch Adam. He was swinging about the microphone again, which is pretty much the coolest thing ever. I’d been afraid he wouldn’t, because he didn’t for the first song or so, but then he did and I almost cried tears of joy.
Also, he looks a little like a T-Rex when he’s just standing there because of the way he holds the hands that’s not grasping the microphone. It’s rather amusing, really, and sort of cute in an, “I’m nervous and don’t know what to do with my hand,” sort of way.
Another interesting thing was his little box with the knobs next to the drums. He’d be holding a note and go back there and just amuse himself (or maybe just us) by twisting the knobs and distorting his voice. He genuinely looked like he was having fun with that, but maybe that’s just me.
The drummer was absent due to a herniated disc (how did that happen, I wonder?), so they had a fill-in drummer from another band, and he did a very good job of it.
The, “TAKING BACK SUNDAY,” bit on the aforementioned marquee was made of a bunch of lights, which danced around whilst they played.
It was all over too soon (actually, it seemed to be about the right time for it to end for me, but I’m sure the rabid fangirls would disagree [they always do]) and the band members left the stage. The lights of the marquee flicked off as it slowly descended to the ground, and out rushed the roadies to grab it and wheel it backstage.
And then they began to set up for My Chemical Romance.
They wheeled a piano onto the stage (ah, an actual piano and not a keyboard! Although there was a keyboard, too) and a backdrop unfurled. The backdrop was new, covered in wolves in what I assume is a promotion of, “House of Wolves,” one of their songs. There was also some equipment that I didn’t really know the purpose of, but that I’d find out later.
I personally think My Chemical Romance has a serious thing about playing at sunset. They always do. Maybe it has something to do with dualities or a very serious philosophical matter, but I wouldn’t know anything about that. And then again, maybe they just think that they look better in the waning sunlight.
One would not have to have their eyes open to know when Gerard got on the stage. What I mean by this is that they would be alerted by the high-pitched screeching and the possible shaking of the floor they were standing on, which could be attributed to said screeching.
Gerard looked fantastic.
Well, who am I kidding, he always does. But he somehow managed to look about five years younger than usual. He’d gotten a haircut, and he’d lost some weight, too.
This was all accented by the very tight clothing he was wearing, a change from his usual marching-band style Black Parade uniform. I could hear the fangirls’ hearts stopping, then starting again only going much, much faster than a normal heart should go. (Let’s pretend I’m not one of those fangirls.)
Click here for Part Two of Spanky’s Review. More MCR! Linkin Park!
For set times click here.
4-3-2-Pop
Okay, as promised, a little bit on Parisian sounds.
Paris is called the City of Lights. It’s a reference to many things, one being the Lumiere brother’s first public showing of moving pictures. But mostly it’s because the city doesn’t sleep (I think New York City already has that title). So if you have a room in Paris that is on the street side (versus the back, or garden side) and it is summertime, you aren’t going to get any sleep. Most hotels do not have air conditioning, so your windows will be open or you will suffocate.
It is noisy.
Mostly with buzzing cars and motorbikes. I don’t know why they are so loud, but they are and when the traffic is light at night, they rev those little engines to go faster. It reminds me of bees, multiplied by about a thousand. I’m a heavy sleeper, so I can do streetside. I like waking up to the street sounds of Paris.
Falling asleep in Paris, you’ll hear people walking below, heeled footsteps, and often singing. People in Paris love to sing.
Speaking of singing and sound, we did catch a My Chemical Romance concert at Le Zenith. It was the only concert of theirs we have gone to that was exclusively theirs (versus a festival), so we got to hear them for two full hours versus about 30-45 minutes.
We were shocked when we got to the arena because it was so small and the upper levels were curtained off. There were only about two to three thousand people there. Unheard of. It was like having our own private show. Anyone was allowed to go into the pit and the French didn’t crowd us. Or mosh. Or throw bottles. Quite a pleasant experience. It is no doubt the best show I have ever been to or will probably ever see.
They played every song from The Black Parade in the order that they are on the CD. They also wore those marching band costumes and called themselves “The Black Parade” during that half of the concert. They even played some B-sides from that album. After that, they said they were leaving, that their friends “My Chemical Romance would be out to play some old school stuff, if you’re into that kind of shit.” While they went backstage to change, a lot of people got confused and thought the concert was over. So while they leaving, we were able to inch closer to the stage. MCR came back and those suckers lost their places.
I know. Where are the photos? Well. Those bastards at the Zenith confiscated every camera and held them until the concert was over. Zenith’s policy, not MCR’s. I am bitter about that, bitter. My best opportunity for some amazing concert photos and, fuck, no camera.
Life is funny isn’t it?
You’ll just have to settle for Metro (subway) photos. There are lots of adverts on the walls which Parisians frequently complain about. Most of the time they are entertaining and tastefully done. This is Paris, they lead the world in taste.
The Metro is one of my favorite things about Paris. It’s been around for about a hundred years. It’s hard to imagine people zipping around town in these underground tunnels 100 years ago. These days it takes minutes to cross town in this thing. Above ground it doesn’t seem to take more than a five minute walk from anywhere in Paris to get to a Metro entrance.
The tickets are only about $1.30 each if you buy them in books of ten. Considerably cheaper than London’s underground which is about $6 per ticket. Both are even cheaper for the locals who get Carte Orange (Paris) or the Oyster card (London). Tourists can get them, but station agents are reluctant to sell them to visitors.
I have always loved this warning sticker in the Metro cars.
Wait, wait. This one too. I am a sick puppy. But hell, if you fall on the tracks I might save your ass.
Here’s a video of what it is like to walk through the Metro tunnels and ride the trains under Paris. It was done by some Parisians so you can hear their lovely voices and laughter.
I hope you watch it.
Here is a drawing in the guestbook at the home where we stayed just a few miles outside of Paris. A guest from Denmark or Holland did this with an ink pen. Amazing.
Outrunning Rain at the Greenfield Festival
One of the scariest things about going so far away to an outdoor festival is the possibility of rain. We could have camped right there on the festival grounds, it was included in the price of our tickets but we opted out. Just in case. It was difficult to pass, the scenery and all.
Good thing we did pass on it. Here’s the view from our balcony the day before the festival began (yep, those are the alps).
Here is what we woke up to on the first day of the festival.
Uh huh. Rain. I told everyone to wake up quick, that we had to get rubber boots. I’d seen some in town the day before while we were walking around and made a mental note of where to get them. A couple of years earlier there was a magazine photo of Kate Moss leaving a rock festival and she was wearing ugly (and muddy) rubber boots. Thanks, Miss Moss (oh, and your Top Shop in London rocks).
We bought the last of the boots and although it did stop raining by the time we got there, the festival grounds were sloppy and muddy near the stage areas. Here’s Spanky and Sweetpea styling in their fancy new boots.
It didn’t rain again until the minute the very last band finished playing that night. We couldn’t believe our luck.
That’s Marilyn Manson, Friday night’s headliner. He put on a spectacular show, even though I don’t care for too much of his music. Some people I spoke with there who had seen him before said it was not a great show, that he usually has a lot more energy.
It is difficult to capture the beauty of this place in a photo. It is an old airfield that the military uses. Three sixty degrees of stunning scenery. (I’m pretty sure they mine chocolate in those alps, they have way too much of that stuff.) Here’s the main stage.
And here is opposite the main stage where people buy lots of beer and sausages.
Sometimes a little too much beer.
But no bottling. Not much crowd surfing, and not much moshing either. We got squeezed pretty tight while listening to Juliette and the Licks. That is Juliette Lewis’ band. Odd huh? Yes, the actress. She’s a good performer, she’s amazing to watch on stage. Listening to her is a different thing. She can’t sing. And she is a bit crappy to her bandmates, giving them a thumbs down when she thinks they aren’t playing so well.
Between every song she stopped to bitch at someone in her band or behind the curtain working her sound equipment. I imagined her telling them, “Make me sing better!”
No such problem with Jared Leto’s voice of 30 Seconds to Mars. I’ve seen him perform three times now and the dude always keeps in tune. He’s a very considerate performer, taking special attention to those near the sides of the stage, playing for them too. He goes out into the audience, the crazy thing. This time he climbed a tent pole about three stories high and sang from there for a while. After the show they did an autograph signing, and Sweetpea, a devoted Jared Leto fan just had to go see him.
So we are waiting behind the barricade in line and Leto sees my camera, looks right at me in the crowd and smiles.
Yes he is looking at me, look closer.
Once I got past the barriers and security, they made me put my camera away. Sweetpea really wanted me to get a photo of her talking to him. I guess it just takes too much time for them to take photos with fans. They run people in and out of signings really fast. But this band talked to us for longer than usual. We were the last ones, maybe that’s why. It made Sweetpea’s day. No week. No. It made the entire trip for her.
That is why I took them to this festival. For years they have travelled with me and it has been really boring at times for them. Little kids do not enjoy travel as much as adults do. Why not do something fun for them? It used to be Disneyland Paris and children’s museums. Now that they are teens it is rock concerts, a great way to meet people from different cultures, not so much as tourists, but visitors. To see them enjoying music as we do, but just a little differently.
We all agreed at the end of the three days that Smashing Pumpkins put on the best show. They were the very last band to play on the closing night.
Check out Billy Corgan with his head shaved and wearing a robe. Not too many bands do encores these days but the Pumpkins came back and played two songs in an encore that lasted about 15 minutes. And as soon as they finished, it began to rain.
It rained every single night in Switzerland and every single morning, but it never did rain in the afternoons and evenings when the bands were playing. I felt really sorry for those poor bastards in those tents though.
Let’s Go
I’ve been planning a trip to Europe over the last few days and burning up the Expedia search engine. The flights are expensive this summer. Outrageous. The cheapest cities to fly into from Dallas are usually London, Paris, Zurich, and Brussels. There are some cut-throat ways I could get there, but it would involve using mileage and crazy flight connections. This year, I just want to do some straight flights.
I always read guide books about the area I want to visit. Rick Steves is okay, I’ve learned a lot about traveling from that dude, but the hotels he recommends are always booked, and well, I don’t want to see a bunch of other Americans when I travel.
Lonely Planet books suck. Just take my word for it. I hate those books. Fodor’s, I never could connect with that guide.
Let’s Go guides are my favorite. They have detailed maps, the prices for whatever they are talking about is always accurate, and they have phone numbers and websites for just about any place they recommend. The writers of the books are a bunch of backpackers who actually do this travelling. They are an adventurous crowd. The books are full of asides like the one about the backpaker who ran a marathon around the tiny county of Liechtenstein just so he could say he saw an entire nation in a little under six hours.
I like quirky whacked-out things like that.
So far I have tickets on hold entering London (going to visit a friend there) concert tickets to the Greenfield Festival in Interlaken Switzerland, my favorite place in Paris reserved for a week, with flights back home from Paris. I am not sure how I will get to Switzerland from the UK, but I’m thinking I will fly to Paris and pick up a car there and drive. It is about a six and a half hour drive, a beautiful one. Just us girls. Road trip, baby! We’ve got ten days until Blane flies into Zurich, we’ll meet him at Interlaken. We’d like to camp at the festival there, but I know how cold it gets there at night and shit, Blane is not much of a camper.
That takes out the entire month of June. Gotta go…
Teenagers Scare The Living Shit Out of Me, Too
It was a perfect day for Edgefest 16. We were scared shitless that it would be cold or rainy because the weather had been really bad in the days leading the festival.
We ended up giving away three extra tickets to Sweetpea’s friends. I had extra because I’d bought pre-sale tickets and then found some better seats when tickets went on sale to the public. Learned a lesson there. Michele told me that, but I had to learn it the hard way.
Sweetpea dumped Spanky and I for her friends and somehow snuck into the pit. How she snuck in was by buying a bright red halter top at one of the sleeze shops on the field.
She put it on and there was no need for the bright orange (pit) wristband. When I saw her with that on, I had to bite my tongue. I told her 6 foot tall boyfriend (he is a few months younger than Sweeetpea) he better keep a good eye on her.
This outdoor fest was no where near as rough as Download. The crowd was cleaner cut and had fewer profanities on their t-shirts. The place had a sterile feel to it. There was no grass or mud because the ground was covered with these white plastic interlocking panels.
It kept the grass alive and shoes clean. Oh, and wow, talk about overkill on cops and security guards.
It was pretty shitty that the place did not have a single show schedule to hand out by the time we got there. It seems like they could have at least put some poster up somewhere to let us poor bastards know who was playing where and when. There were three stages going at the same time. Very few people had schedules. I found out most of who we wanted to see were on the main stage so Spanky and I just stayed near there all day.
Here she is making good use of her time between sets.
We saw Blue October (excellent show), Muse (only like one of their songs so we went hunt down foold while they played), Papa Roach (Spanky hates them), AFI (Davey Havok gets best screamer award)…
AFI
Also, The Killers (more on that later), and our favorite of the day, our reason for being there… My Chemical Romance (MCR).
With a grueling tour schedule playing almost every night for over four months now, it was a no brainer that MCR would be polished. Unfortunately, with this many bands to run through in one day, they only had an hour to play. An hour in which we completely forgot about everything but the moment. It was spectacular.
The sun was setting when they started:
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I never talk much about Ray Toro, the lead guitarist for MCR. This dude is just phenomenal with his white hot guitar sound. He is the anchor for this group with his seriousness, classic rock looks (red spindly long curls, and gee, he has full lips which are just way underappreciated in this band of pretty boys), and the fact that he has worn that look from the beginning of the band to this day. Nothing wrong with tweaks and changes in appearances to freshen up the look of the band, but I like it that this guy just stays the same.
Gerard is just as gorgeous as ever, but his hair is back to ink-black. Mikey had a totally outrageous hairstyle.
As the set progressed it turned to nighttime. They did not wear their Black Parade costumes and just had a simple backdrop for their set. They played a good bit of Black Parade as well as some old school songs. It was a surprise to me that the song to bring down the house was “Cancer.” It moved me and most of the people around me to tears. The lighting was sublime and the people in the audience lit their lighters so it looked like the stadium was lit up with a bunch of candles.
I couldn’t help but think of my friend Michele, how she said that song made her cry because it hit so close to home. I blame her for making my eyes leak.
For all you punkasses who have been hitting my blog for that Teenagers Scare the Living Shit out of Me post I did, this is for you, a short video clip I recorded and uploaded. I will warn you though, you will shit a brick when you see the back of Gerard Way’s head in here. It looks like he is getting a… I’m so sorry, really sorry to tell you… a bald spot. Go ahead and cry bitches.
The Killers played last and surprisingly, a lot of people left before they played. They were twenty minutes late and Spanky had school the next day, so she wanted to leave. We listened to about 3 or 4 of their songs and began the long walk back to the car. (Sweetpea drove her own car there and stayed until the end).
While walking back to the car we could hear The Killers’ “Smile Like You Mean It.” Here’s our convo while walking in the crisp night air.
Me: Whoa, Spank, you hear that?
Spanky: Yeah, I like that song.
Me: (euphoric) It’s amazing Spank.
Spanky: I know, now stop complaining.
Me: What do you mean? I love this.
Spanky: (irritated) You’re complaining because you want to be in there instead of leaving.
Me: No, they sound fine from here.
And as smart as she is, I don’t think she could understand that I was just as happy to be walking with her to the live sound of The Killers, just me and Spank. While she finishes growing up.
The absolute scariest thing about teenagers is when they are yours.
I Can’t Beat This, So Here’s Spanky
Spanky is my thirteen year old daughter and she wrote a review of the Taste of Chaos concert we went to yesterday. Calling me the chaperone would not quite be accurate here since I enjoy the music just as much as they do. Besides, it’s research.
The following is what Spanky wrote in her blog today (I added the photos):
I went to a concert yesterday.
No, not an orchestra concert or a band concert.
That’s right, a rock concert.
I’ll admit I was a bit afraid, as we had tickets for the pit and I am still scarred from my near-death moshing experience at Download 2005, but I would not let that get to me.
Who was going, you ask?
Well, my mother, my father, my sister, two of her friends, and my dear, dear self.
First, we had to get our wristbands for the pit. They were an extremely vibrant neon pink, and this amused me greatly as it was not exactly Britney Spears we were going to see.
Upon entering the pit, I found out two very strange things that completely contrasted with my former experience with pits.
Number one being that it was very small, and number two being that it was nearly empty.
Also, upon looking closer, the floor was already soaked in beer.
A band was just finishing their show, and after their final scream, the lights flipped back on and people began to vacate, for water or cigarettes or some of the crappy and overpriced food they sold.
We luckily got a place right up to the bars that separate the people from the security and the stage. This place was not exactly right in front of the middle of the stage, but even I, being blind and not wearing glasses for fear of having them break, could see very well.
We waited about ten minutes for the next act and then the stage lights dimmed. I hoped that this was going to be good.
A sole spotlight shined upon the stage, and a man in a rabbit suit, yes, a rabbit suit hopped onto the stage.
His speech went something like this.
“HELLO[EXPLETIVES]. HOW YOU ENJOYING YOURSELVES? WELL, PREPARE YOURSELF FOR SOME PURE DAAAAARKNESSSSS!!!! HERE’S CHIODOS!”
He then hopped offstage.
I had to admire a man who could get up on a stage in a bunny suit and say the words, “PURE DARKNESS!”
I assume this man was the lead singer of the band in question, but I never really paid attention to him.
Who was I watching?
The keyboardist.
Why the keyboardist, you ask? [And is that even the right word for the guy who plays the keyboard?]
Because he was totally and ineffably insane, that’s why.
Throughout the entire set, he was headbanging with his huge puff of hair and and slamming his hands onto the abused keyboard. I’m not even entirely sure he was playing the thing, but he probably was, as I could see him get serious when he had solos.
But man oh man. What a keyboardist.
I don’t even remember the music because of this guy.
So then the lights went on and a few people left to go choke down a death stick or drink some water. We were trying to leave to go get water or something, but then the next band started.
This one was Saosin, a favorite of my sister’s and a relatively popular band.
And this was where the fun started.
You have never seen stupid things that people do when they’re drunk until you have seen moshing.
Also, this is a hilarious thing.
One guy and another stand back to back, link their arms, and then the first lifts the second to do a flying, kicking thing.
Now, what’s particularly hilarious about mosh pits is that fact that everyone knows when they begin and everyone knows when they end.
Plus, it’s a bunch of drunken people beating each other up, I mean, seriously, what more could you ask for?
Everyone moves out to make a circle, and in the middle of this circle you’ve got people beating each other up for no apparent reason.
Then, the moshing ends and everyone moves back in.
“Organized chaos,” my father called it.
Then we moved back to our spots at the bars [we were at the back for the entire moshing bit, but I didn't like it there. At the front we were next to the speakers and we were also able to see. Because only tall people like to stand in front of us, usually].
It was here I noticed a fantastic phenomenon.
In fact, I think that I’d probably go to rock shows just to watch this and the moshing.
The crowd-surfing. Oh my god.
Is this stuff not the most amusing in the world?
You’ve got the security guards, who angrily pull people from the crowds and then jostle them all the way over to the side of the security area, then they have to go to the back of the pit.
Then, there’s watching the people.
Their looks of triumph.
Happiness.
“I’m going to do it again!”
Watching them jump up and down in success, and then getting grabbed by a security guard.
And now, to talk about the actual music of Saosin.
I honestly don’t remember it much, and I don’t listen to them so I don’t know what a good song sounds like, but there was a lot of screaming, both from the crowd and the singer, so I assume that this means it was a good show.
A bit later came Senses Fail.
Finally, a band I could sing to.
This was fun.
For me, I would sing and alternately scream.
Because I never get to scream and I just find that fun.
Hohoho.
So the lead singer screams around and jumps all over the stage like an insane person, and the crowd-surfing and the moshing rises in its energy.
Senses Fail played pretty well, and they sounded a lot like their album with a few embellishments.
I had the most fun screaming to their songs, but I wish they’d played Angela Baker and My Obsession with Fire.
That’s my favorite.
So then the lights went on, and they set up for the next band.
The set up process I find to actually be pretty fascinating.
They have a rotating thing, and while one band is playing, the other band’s stuff is being set up. [Stuff being drums, scenery, etc.]
Then when the lights flip on, they flip some switch and the entire thing rotates.
Fantastic.
So, while its rotating, I see the most insane set ever, just totally over-the-top.
It’s the set for 30 Seconds to Mars.
Also, it’s got screens and paper lanterns and is supposed to look like China.
I think, Oh my god, Jared Leto, oh my god. He just loves the theatrics.
And here is where the fangirls came rushing in and I suddenly found myself surrounded by the most insane Jared Leto fans on Earth.
I’m lucky I survived.
Then.
Opera music begins to play [the song from The Omen].
Just one of those crazy ones where there’s some huge chaos about to go down.
Everyone looks around excitedly.
However, Jared Leto and the band are not going to be getting on the stage in the same way any normal band would, no way no how.
We see flag-bearers, bearing red flags.
Behind them trails… 30 Seconds to Mars walking in from the audience.
Cue the fangirls.
Jared Leto eventually gets on stage, amazingly without having gotten his clothing ripped to shreds.
He is wearing all white, and a white bandana.
Also, he has an insane-looking white guitar that you know and I know he is really not playing.
He pulls down the bandana.
And holy God almighty, he has a beard.
Can you say instant turn-off?
Not to mention that Jared Leto is possibly the most conceited of all lead singers.
When he knows everyone wants to hear The Kill he says something to the effect of, “Let me hear you scream it!”
He’s standing up there in the spolight saying, “Beg me, beg me, pray to me my little sheep!”
Not in those words, but that’s the idea.
Dear oh dear oh dear.
Also, you see him standing there in the spotlight.
In all white.
With that crazy beard.
And you get this strange impression that goes something like this.
Oh my god. This man thinks he’s Jesus.
Aside from the fact that he’s horribly conceited, he is a good performer.
He comes to the sides of the stage that nobody goes to, and he touches the hands of the fans.
Also, he likes to get down into the crowd and convene with the people, letting them touch him while he croons his songs.
And amazingly, he always returns without missing any clothes.
My mom actually got to touch him as he was running by once.
30 Seconds to Mars played very well and sound pretty much like their CDs.
Then the lights came on, and instead of rushing out, people began rushing in.
Here was the big act of the night.
They even dropped a black veil over the front of the stage, so you couldn’t see them setting up [and so you could see the band's silhouettes when they eventually came out].
And then came the words on the veil.
THE USED.
Cue the fangirls once more, please.
Then we see Quinn [guitarist] come on stage.
Scream, scream, scream.
Then some other guy.
And then another.
And then…
Bert.
And now even the men are screaming like girls.
They unveiled their set. It was a bunch of what looked like fish bones, extremely tall and standing straight up like sentinels.
Also, the “bones” had neon lights in them, and the heads of the fish were some of those things that look like fire.
They performed well.
I liked the blending of the songs they did, and I got to scream a bunch.
Also, Bert dancing was hilarious, though it was a little gay.
Also?
Bert does not know how to please the fans.
He’d go up to the middle front, standing on the speaker, shrieking, and the fangirls would put out their hands for him to touch.
He would not touch them.
One girl actually grabbed his pinky on the microphone.
He pulled away like it was fire.
Also, he said, “Has anyone here not heard of the Used?”
To the few murmurs, he replied what was to the effect of, “This song is for you, and you can go to hell.”
Almost those exact words.
Not exactly a way to be picking up the new fans, is it?
So I woke up this morning, bright and early at 11:30.
Funny ruckus.
My sister entered a contest to go backstage to meet the Used, and she found out she had won but not until today. She thought they’d let her know by email but should have checked their website. She could’ve gone backstage.
So she missed meeting her favorite band.
She doesn’t want to talk about that.
Edgehead
My twin from another mother, Michele told me it was true, that The Police have announced they are doing a reunion tour in the US.
How do you get the best tickets to a concert? Join an official fan club. The thing about that is fan clubs are not always free. Sting’s club costs $65 to join. His club won’t get you tickets to the Police concerts, though, you have to join The Police Tour club for a whopping $100.
It’s seems unfair to have to pay to join a fan club. Aren’t The Police and Sting rich enough? I’m not paying to join a club. There’s got to be a way around this. Find out who’s touring with them, join their club if it’s free and get pre-sale tickets that way.
I realize this might be a way to keep scalpers from buying up the pre-sale tickets. I’ve already seen some tickets that are selling for $2500. Each. I don’t know where those people got their tickets, because pre-sales for the Dallas show haven’t even started. Someone call the police.
I’m more of a Sting fan anyway. I was too young to enjoy The Police when they were a band. I started buying their CDs after falling in love with Sting. My husband and son still feign jealousy when I drool over him.
These days though, I’m more into new rock. There’s an amazing show sponsored by a local radio station which announced their Edgefest lineup yesterday. I already knew My Chemical Romance would be there, I’m in their free club. For pre-sale tickets, I just joined the radio station’s club, also free.
So now I am an Edgehead. You can bet this Edgehead will have good tickets to Edgefest.
Man Meat! (Taking Back Sunday concert)
My daughter Spanky is a bigtime Taking Back Sunday fan, so last night I took her to a concert where they headlined (How the Egde Stole Christmas). Of course, I like TBS as well, especially the lead singer Adam Lazarra because of all the neat tricks he does with his corded microphone. He throws it around like a yo-yo and catches it, spins it around like a helicopter over his head and then lets it wind around his neck. It never gets old. A few months ago he accidently knocked his bass player in the head with that thing and the guy had to get seven stitches.
I think Lazzara was sick (ill). He sounded hoarse when he first came on stage and he just didn’t have the same energy he had at the show we saw last summer. I saw him down two Red Bulls and it didn’t help. I don’t even think he was singing half the time. And he kept dropping the mic during his tricks.
When he’d have to yell, he’d turn his back to the audience and use a mic on a stand. We never “eye-witnessed” the actual yelling. I kept seeing him press these buttons on a box and wondered if he was… Well, I hate to say he was faking it. The audience sang most of the songs with him and his voice was really low. I think the audience knew he was sick and helped him out. Unusual. Still, it’s better than cancelling. I had tickets to a Sting concert once and he cancelled. I never liked him as much again.
Just before TBS played, 30 Seconds to Mars played for about and hour. Take a look at the lead singer, Jared Leto.
© Anthony G. Moore / Photorazzi
Okay ladies, now that you’ve picked yourself off of the floor, here’s Leto’s IMDB page. Such talent. His voice is just as gorgeous. Leto even braved going into the crowd to sing and surprisingly, he returned with his clothes intact.
I don’t know how the guy does it, all the movies and the tours. I’ll be seeing him again next spring for the Taste of Chaos Tour.
Before that band, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus played. They have a grunge look and sound, and just tonight, they were presented with their first gold record.
Photo: Virgin Records
Spanky called them “Man meat.” All of them (TBS, Leto, Jumpsuit). I was just so happy to see her take her nose out of a book for an evening. Well, she did bring one for between sets. She really cracks me up. She pointed out two guys near us, standing in front of their seats, moshing. Just the two of them.
Flyleaf
While at that outdoor mega rock festival this past summer, one of the first things I heard was a band on the main stage saying (not singing), “So if you know anybody who wants to jump, don’t let ‘em do it, man.” Okay. This isn’t the first time I ask myself what the hell am I doing here?
One thing all bands did and I don’t notice it so much here, but over there, it was “motherfucker this” and “motherfucker that”. I asked some people in the crowd if they liked that and they said they did indeed, only if the band was American. Strange.
Then there was this one band we had to hear because the lead singer was female, we knew one of their songs, and we thought we could get up close to the stage. We did. This band came out and this was all they said, “We’re Flyleaf. We’re from Texas.” Then they totally rocked the house.
The lyrics in their songs were so much more hopeful than much of the other stuff we heard out there. They blew us away. I bought their CD as soon as we got home. It’s at the top of my playlist. I love this band.
So imagine the shock when checking them out on the internet. People who listen to Christian rock consider Flyleaf a Christian rock group.
What? Oh, no way. I’ve listened to all those songs and there’s no praise the Lord in there. Um. Wait. Most of the songs do have themes of hope and… What? I don’t listen to that kind of music. Never have. Chant, yes sometimes. Chorus too. But. Not. Christian. Rock.
But here’s the thing. They don’t come out and say, “Jesus was there for me.” It’s more like, “You were there for me.” Fill in the blank type stuff and whatever it is that brings you solace, be it a god or art or a lover, you can plug it into those lyrics. Reminds me of reading Mahfouz’s short story, “Zaabalawi.”
Whatever they are, I’m still listening.
Still, I’m cracked up that all these hard core rockers probably had no idea what they were headbanging to.
Check them out, from Temple, Texas, Flyleaf.
Downloaded
We did the whole three days at the Download Festival and I don’t know what I like more, the bands or the freak show audience. This guy is arguing with security because they wouldn’t allow his skeleton inside:
Maybe he didn’t have a ticket, it was sold out. There were 75,000 people there each day
It’s sort of scary at first, the dress code of this crowd. Lots of black and gothic looking stuff, piercings, (there was one chick with corset piercing on her back, she had the strings, oh, you can imagine it). Men in dresses. Not kilts, yes kilts, but not just kilts. That is a dude in the pigtails:
Yes lots of kilts too:
It is amazing that these people were so well behaved (for the first two days at least). Not what you’d expect at a heavy metal festival.
Something else you don’t expect at a place like this is Will Smith. My daughter kept saying, “I see Will Smith on the big screen.”
I kept saying, “No you don’t, he’d never be at a place like this.”
But he was. His wife, Jada Pinkett-Smith is the lead singer of Wicked Wisdom and they were playing when we first got there. Will was at the stage wings and that WAS him on the big screen. She rocks, BTW.
People are asking if there was any anti-Americanism in England. Not at the festival. Almost every band there (about 50) was American. Even stranger, there were so many Rebel flags people in the audience were waving about. Bizarre.
On the last day the crowd started bottle throwing. Glass is not allowed, these were plastic bottles with a little water in them. By the time Guns and Roses got on stage, there was an all out bottle war. I got hit four times (didn’t hurt) but saw some others get hit really hard. These bottles come from behind you. If you look back to see who did it, you will get hit harder and more often. The bass guitarist for Guns got slammed up side the head so bad that the band had to take a break for a while. That’s when we left. Why do this? Throw bottles? It doesn’t make any sense. At one time there were so many bottles up in the air, it looked like popcorn popping.
We’d planned to leave early anyway on the last night to avoid the traffic jam. Had to drive back to London to see Phantom of the Opera the next day.
It’s something we regretted because we had such bad seats.
And we don’t care much for London anyway. We did get lucky and stumble on the London premiere of The Lake House. We saw Sandra Bullock and I got Keanu Reeves to sign my tube map.
I’ll give France and Turkey their own entries.
