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?

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.

My Chemical Romance Unwrapped

In the intense August heat, also fueled by pyrotechnics, band members of My Chemical Romance take off their shirts while at the Projekt Revolution concert in Texas. Only a backstage pass beats that.

Here’s shirtless Frank before he chickened out and put on a tank top.

Here is the entire band sans shirts (except Gerard). Look above Frank’s head for Bob (drummer). We weren’t that close and the fog effects were messing with my camera’s zoom.

This shot is missing the guy filling in for Mikey.

Go on girls, drool.

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.

Pissed

One of my favorite differences between American English and British English is the meaning of the word “pissed.” For us it is about anger, for them it is about being totally drunk. I have a whole new meaning for this word. You’ll see what I mean. If you are known to faint easily, you may want to skip this post and wait for the Swiss stuff.

So we are in England and My Chemical Romace is playing at Download. The girls begged me to take them again for at least one day. Okay they didn’t have to twist my arm. This is probably the only band the three of us have on our top ten list.

I wasn’t going to talk about this…

Okay. So the girls and I are wiggling our way to the front of the crowd at the main stage where they are going to play in an hour. It’s easy, there’s no excessive crowding. Other girls are dragging their boyfriends up there. You could just read those poor bloke’s faces, what I do for this girl.

The girls and I are ecstatic that we’ve positioned ourselves closely to the stage. Then a guy to my side looks at me with a very sad face. He asks, “Do you like My Chemical Romance?”
I look down at my t-shirt and laugh.
With a hint of shame he warns, “Better watch your head.”

My heart went into a freefall, straight down into my left shoe. How could I be so stupid? How could I not guess this? I tell the girls and we all agree to go to the back of the audience. Waaaaaay back. As we amble back there we notice pockets and hands loaded down with ammo. These are all guys. Jealous guys.

Look what they did.

These are plastic bottles as glass is not allowed at the festival. The fucktards fill them with a little liquid to make them projectile. Water. Soda. Beer. Oh, look back at the title of this post. That stuff too. Pissing on my Black Parade.

To all the bottlers:

Not my shirt. But it’s useful.

MCR kept playing but Gerard Way’s eyes were sweeping back and forth real fast, like windshield wipers, looking out for missiles (saw it on the bigscreen). The bottling stopped after about a couple of songs and those same idiots throwing bottles were actually dancing and singing the songs toward the end of the show. He looked gorgeous, BTW and it turned out to be a great show. Oh, and we didn’t get hit.

No band deserves this and it is unfair and unsafe to the audience as well. There were quite a few children there to see MCR. Some probably got hit. I don’t understand why they can’t control this problem.

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.

Under Pressure

It’s about the end of the month and I know a lot of you writers out there are feeling it. That deadline. It’s closing in on me pretty tight and swift. Funny how it comes gradually then suddenly.

Well here is an excellent song I am spinning just for you prisoners of deadline. It’s a redo of Queen and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” by The Used and My Chemical Romance.

Now I like Queen and didn’t think any of their stuff should ever be messed with. This song however is actually better than the original and I’ve talked with some hardcore Queen fans who totally agree. What do you think? Oh and the video part is not important (unless you are an MCR or The Used fan like me), just want you to hear the song. Sit back, turn the speakers up and relaaaaaaax. Then go kick some deadline ass.

EDITED NOTE: To be fair, here’s Queen and David Bowie’s original “Under Pressure” (the video part of this one is important).

Pinch Me

Today the Rock Gods have spoken. The clouds parted, a beautiful light shined on the Earth and the announcement was made that The Police will reunite to play at this years Grammys.

I had to pinch myself. The Police, with Sting. Together for the first time since 1986.

If that’s not enough, Download announced today that My Chemical Romance (MCR) will be headlining at this year’s festival at Donnington Park, UK. We had already decided we were going again before the announcement. We’ve been watching the countdown for the announcement of who’s playing for days now.

Get the smelling salts, I’m going to hit the floor…

Okay, I’m back. It’s real, it’s true, and we’re going to Download again. MCR will be there. Pinch, slap. Nope, get the smelling salts.

Ironically the very first band we saw at our first Download was MCR. I was in a slight state of shock, hadn’t been to a concert in years and I’d never been surrounded by a thousand or so English punks. When MCR played the following song (The Ghost of You), it drew tears from those punks. And I was sucked in for life.

Gerard Way is beautiful in here, looks like a young Elvis.

“Teenagers (Scare the Living Shit out of Me)”

They’ll probably never play that one on the radio, it’s a hiliarious song on My Chemical Romance’s new CD, “The Black Parade”.

I like Gerard Way’s (lead singer) new look. He went from having long jet black hair to a platinum blonde crew cut. Having seen it before the release of Parade, my guess was the new music would be lighter than the usual. It is lighter, not lyrically, but it sounds kind of show-tune like. In a Rocky Horror sort of way. I like the new sound too. I get the feeling one day this will end up a Broadway show. Just a hunch.
Here’s the video: Teenagers.

Photo by Martin Schoeller for Blender