Since I was a teenager I have loved reading the British metal mag Metal Hammer. The writers in this magazine tend to avoid the usual snide and jaded commentary that you find all over these days. The articles and reviews are very realistic, but not meant to tear down anybody. I can appreciate that. This payday, like I do every other payday, I trekked down to my local Borders and picked up the latest issue. In the July issue there is a concert review for MCR who played this summer at the Give It a Name Festival (Earls Court, London).
The MCR review includes a picture of Gerard who is looking hot in a black velvet rugby blazer and silk tie. The reviewer observes that they are performing more and more like the stadium band they soon will be. Gerard has for some time stopped wearing the heavy makeup, which, I swear, is Dave Grohl’s influence. In a 2005 Spin issue, Dave commented on the beauty of the song Helena, but cautioned that the band will regret the makeup. Oh Dave- a soothsayer thou art!
2006 in America is missing MCR. Here's to the 2007 Judakris concert schedule, which will undoubtedly include more than one MCR show! -K
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
New York Doll by Judakris
Protopunk is a term I’ve recently come across. It describes something that is a precursor to punk rock. This is exactly what you learn about the glam-punk group New York Dolls in the documentary New York Doll. In this documentary, there are several well-known commentators like Sir Bob Geldof, Chrissie Hynde, and Morrissey who wax nostalgic on the impact this band had on their lives and on their respective music scenes. I always knew of the New York Dolls because all of my favorite 80s glam/hair metal bands cited them as an influence. Having watched the documentary, which thankfully includes original NYD songs, I am amazed at that I had never heard any of their music. It was painfully clear that so many bands today incorporate their sound.
The story within the story of New York Doll is that of Arthur “Killer” Kane, the original bassist. His story is an engaging and touching one. In his words, “I was demoted from a rock star to being a schlep on the bus”. After losing everything to alcohol and finding God through the Church of Latter Day Saints, he finally found peace while working inside the LDS center library in Los Angeles. He still held onto the dream of reuniting the Dolls, which happened one last time for him at the Meltdown Festival organized that year by Morrissey, one of their biggest fans. I agree with J that the final song of “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want” was extremely fitting.
I loved the two adorable LDS Center sisters, now in the later years of their lives, demurely joking about being Arthur’s groupies. One thing that struck me was Arthur’s enthusiasm of the hotel room in London. In a very endearing way, he describes so many things in the room that he felt made his apt back home look like a dump. All I kept thinking was how I could imagine exactly what the chairs feel like, what the drapes feel like, and what the room smells like. I highly recommend this one as being a fan is demonstrably not a prerequisite for enjoying it. -K
I found this quote on msn.com and had to share. Britney Spears is describing her desire to get back on stage…
I can't wait to do that again," Spears, 24, tells Harper's Bazaar in its August issue, on newsstands July 25. "But I really have to take my time and do it right and be safe. Actually ... not that safe. When you perform, you have to be dangerous."
Since Brit cannot wow us with cutting edge performances, I have an alternative suggestion. Check out the documentary New York Doll. Be sure to watch the extras like the interview with the director and Morissey. The documentary chronicles the rise, fall, and rise again of Arthur “Killer” Kane and his band, The New York Dolls. Wow, sometimes true stories seem more like a movie script than fiction. Using “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want” as the closing song of the film fit perfectly
I saw the New York Dolls perform last year in Baltimore. The only original members left were David Johanson and Sylvain Sylvain. I wish I would have seen this documentary before the performance because I probably would have appreciated it more. -J
The story within the story of New York Doll is that of Arthur “Killer” Kane, the original bassist. His story is an engaging and touching one. In his words, “I was demoted from a rock star to being a schlep on the bus”. After losing everything to alcohol and finding God through the Church of Latter Day Saints, he finally found peace while working inside the LDS center library in Los Angeles. He still held onto the dream of reuniting the Dolls, which happened one last time for him at the Meltdown Festival organized that year by Morrissey, one of their biggest fans. I agree with J that the final song of “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want” was extremely fitting.
I loved the two adorable LDS Center sisters, now in the later years of their lives, demurely joking about being Arthur’s groupies. One thing that struck me was Arthur’s enthusiasm of the hotel room in London. In a very endearing way, he describes so many things in the room that he felt made his apt back home look like a dump. All I kept thinking was how I could imagine exactly what the chairs feel like, what the drapes feel like, and what the room smells like. I highly recommend this one as being a fan is demonstrably not a prerequisite for enjoying it. -K
I found this quote on msn.com and had to share. Britney Spears is describing her desire to get back on stage…
I can't wait to do that again," Spears, 24, tells Harper's Bazaar in its August issue, on newsstands July 25. "But I really have to take my time and do it right and be safe. Actually ... not that safe. When you perform, you have to be dangerous."
Since Brit cannot wow us with cutting edge performances, I have an alternative suggestion. Check out the documentary New York Doll. Be sure to watch the extras like the interview with the director and Morissey. The documentary chronicles the rise, fall, and rise again of Arthur “Killer” Kane and his band, The New York Dolls. Wow, sometimes true stories seem more like a movie script than fiction. Using “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want” as the closing song of the film fit perfectly
I saw the New York Dolls perform last year in Baltimore. The only original members left were David Johanson and Sylvain Sylvain. I wish I would have seen this documentary before the performance because I probably would have appreciated it more. -J
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Punk - L.A. Style
I’m on vacation this week so I brought my daughter, A, down to the city pool. I’m sitting here under an overcast sky reading a book while she swims watching two lame lifeguards compare their dance moves to Maroon 5’s This Love blasting over the P.A. Is this what suburban moms do all summer? Yikes, I’m not missing much.
The book I just finished was We Got the Neutron Bomb by Marc Spitz and Brendan Mullen. It documents the late 70’s to early 80’s punk music scene in Los Angeles. I like the way it is written because it is basically strings of quotes categorized by topic. The L.A. scene definitely has its own flavor compared to the Brits or New York City. Who knew that such varied acts as The Germs, The Go-Go’s, The Blasters, X, Black Flag, and Los Lobos came out of the same scene? M, you might like to read this one! Lots of quotes from The Go-Gos!
X is currently on the road. If you have a chance to see them, I would recommend it. I saw them in 2003 and they were very good, although Exene seemed a bit fragile.
The first chapter, which makes a case for Jim Morrison being the godfather of punk, is worth reading. I heard Iggy Pop tell the same story on a music show and it killed me! There is a documentary that was made called The Decline of Western Civilization about the scene that is not released on DVD. Of course some of the main players state in the book that the documentary did not fully capture the scene. Until it is released, a good companion doc is Mayor of Sunset Strip. The documentary focuses on the life and times of Rodney Bingenheimer, who is quoted in the book quite a bit. This documentary is a fascinating look at the L.A. music scene, but most of all about being a fan or being near celebrity. Be ready for a laundry list of celebrities making an appearance and also some sad moments. Feeling something! --J
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Speaking of Dave Grohl...
J's post about the Champaign show is cracking me up. It was a party, for sure. The after-show meet and greet solidified my love for the guys. They were totally cool. I didn’t care one bit that I had to go to work in a few hours. I would sacrifice sleep for these guys any time (Ok, I don't mean it in that way! YES I DO!).
Speaking of work, I know I should try and keep work and private life separate, but I need to give up that endeavor. I have too many friends and acquaintances in my customer base and in the company that will prevent this job from ever being any other 8-5er. In 2005, I was in Fairfax, VA (Hi-oh, Dave!) to meet a client and discuss upcoming projects. At noon, one of the contacts from the site, A, and I went out to grab some lunch for the staff and started chit chatting about the area and his family. He mentioned that he has a son who is obsessed with music (he is currently at Rock Camp), especially David Bowie. "A" revealed that he was a big Bruce Springsteen fan and how he was originally from New Jersey, etc. It was the first time I had met, A, and I was so pleased to know we had music in common. The conversation meandered to Dave Grohl, who, I knew, had gone to school in the Fairfax area. I told him that my “friend” was a huge FF fan and that we were planning on seeing them soon since they were on tour to support In Your Honor. He acknowledged this and said that there had recently been in article in the newspaper about Dave’s academic history. He forwarded me this email, which I promptly sent to J. Needless to say, he gained credits in our book after forwarding this to me. Note that he thought my use of the term "friend" was me wishing to protect my identity. -K
K:
For your 'friend' from the Sunday Washington Post
Readers Tell Us
Annandale writes: I have known David Grohl since he was a young lad and noticed an error in your "Shout Out" [Oct. 19]. David did not attend Annandale High School, but rather Thomas Jefferson High School (before it was a magnet science and tech school).
Ah, the old "I knew Dave Grohl when . . ." It's the Northern Virginia thirty-something equivalent of "Yeah, Woodstock, I was there , man . . ." Look, we're all in favor of name-dropping (have we mentioned that we have an ex-boyfriend whose best friend was in a band with Grohl and a best friend whose ex-boyfriend was in a band with Grohl?). Still, we've always been suspicious of all the people who claim to have gone to high school with the Foo Fighters frontman. There couldn't be that many! (Or could there . . . ?)
We asked the folks at the Fairfax County Public Schools to look up Grohl's permanent record (they really keep this stuff!). Turns out the best rock drummer of his generation did, indeed, make the rounds during his school days. So as a public service to all of you trying to check the veracity of your buddies' pre- Nirvana stories, we present the official academic journey of David Grohl:
Thomas Jefferson High School, Alexandria, 1983-84
Bishop Ireton High School, Alexandria, 1984-86
Annandale High School, 1986-87, dropped out.
Speaking of work, I know I should try and keep work and private life separate, but I need to give up that endeavor. I have too many friends and acquaintances in my customer base and in the company that will prevent this job from ever being any other 8-5er. In 2005, I was in Fairfax, VA (Hi-oh, Dave!) to meet a client and discuss upcoming projects. At noon, one of the contacts from the site, A, and I went out to grab some lunch for the staff and started chit chatting about the area and his family. He mentioned that he has a son who is obsessed with music (he is currently at Rock Camp), especially David Bowie. "A" revealed that he was a big Bruce Springsteen fan and how he was originally from New Jersey, etc. It was the first time I had met, A, and I was so pleased to know we had music in common. The conversation meandered to Dave Grohl, who, I knew, had gone to school in the Fairfax area. I told him that my “friend” was a huge FF fan and that we were planning on seeing them soon since they were on tour to support In Your Honor. He acknowledged this and said that there had recently been in article in the newspaper about Dave’s academic history. He forwarded me this email, which I promptly sent to J. Needless to say, he gained credits in our book after forwarding this to me. Note that he thought my use of the term "friend" was me wishing to protect my identity. -K
K:
For your 'friend' from the Sunday Washington Post
Readers Tell Us
Annandale writes: I have known David Grohl since he was a young lad and noticed an error in your "Shout Out" [Oct. 19]. David did not attend Annandale High School, but rather Thomas Jefferson High School (before it was a magnet science and tech school).
Ah, the old "I knew Dave Grohl when . . ." It's the Northern Virginia thirty-something equivalent of "Yeah, Woodstock, I was there , man . . ." Look, we're all in favor of name-dropping (have we mentioned that we have an ex-boyfriend whose best friend was in a band with Grohl and a best friend whose ex-boyfriend was in a band with Grohl?). Still, we've always been suspicious of all the people who claim to have gone to high school with the Foo Fighters frontman. There couldn't be that many! (Or could there . . . ?)
We asked the folks at the Fairfax County Public Schools to look up Grohl's permanent record (they really keep this stuff!). Turns out the best rock drummer of his generation did, indeed, make the rounds during his school days. So as a public service to all of you trying to check the veracity of your buddies' pre- Nirvana stories, we present the official academic journey of David Grohl:
Thomas Jefferson High School, Alexandria, 1983-84
Bishop Ireton High School, Alexandria, 1984-86
Annandale High School, 1986-87, dropped out.
Foo Fighters at the University of Illinois
On K’s birthday we were driving to Champaign to see Weezer/Foo Fighters at the University of Illinois. For some reason, many of our favorite bands did not come to St. Louis this year so once again, we were road tripping it. It had been a stressful couple of months. Our company had recently bought another company and things were crazy. I had planned to take the next day off, but K planned to work since Champaign is only about 2 and a half hours from St. Louis.
I was shocked how many people in the audience were hardcore Weezer fans. While I like a few of their songs, I’ve read one too many interview with Rivers Cuomo and his reluctant rock star shtick. These frat boys sitting behind us were all “Dude, are you gonna stay for Foo Fighters?” “Dude, I don’t know”. “Dude, I just want to see fuckin Weezer man!” I was thinking to myself, yeah, why don’t you move along fellas. We had great seats but the numbering in the arena was weird. I never got a handle on it but let’s just say I had confronted someone for being in what I thought was our seats and it turned out they weren’t. And we in turn got confronted by two separate groups of people thinking we were in their seats but we were in the right then. It was strange. During the Weezer show, they pulled a guy from the audience who got to play along with them and they gave him an acoustic guitar.
Foo Fighters, as usual, put on one hell of a show. Having seen them a number of times in the past, this seemed like the biggest stage production of their careers. I was impressed and was now in disbelief that I was not really looking forward to the show due to the stresses of work that week. This is exactly what I needed. Dave did scale a very small ledge in the arena, walking pretty close to us on the balcony. Call me a mom, I almost couldn’t watch, afraid he would fall. By the end of the show, it felt like a great big party it was so loose and everyone was having such a good time.
After the show there was a party atmosphere in the parking lot so we hung out hoping that maybe we could get some pics of the band after the show. In situations like that, I always feel compelled to look around the crowd to see if I’m the oldest person there. Since Champaign is a college town, most people fell into the same demographic, but there was one woman who definitely looked older than us. I feel as though as long as I am around the same age as the band, meeting them shouldn’t be weird, but I think some of the young tuffs waiting around with us feel differently on the topic. Hey, Dave’s a year older, it shouldn’t matter!
The kid with the acoustic guitar from Weezer was out there and kept playing. At first it was charming, but it got way annoying as the night went on. His fifteen minutes were up but he was trying desperately to keep all the attention on him. Taylor came out first and signed stuff. I told him to bring his solo stuff to St. Louis and we talked for a minute about that. One of the security guards then stated that the rest of the band would be coming out but people had to stay behind the barricades. It was all very serious. Well, we waited for hours. I kept looking at K, saying do you want to wait? She had to be at work in the morning but she was fine with waiting. Just as we were about to pack it in, around 2:30am, Dave and Chris came out. It was strange how the security guards made such a big deal about us keeping our distance but when Dave came out, he was helping people with their digital cameras, taking pictures, and chatting, all outside of the barricade. I won’t even document the banter I had with him. I really do get starstruck and I was at that moment, so I sounded like an idiot. I did take a picture with him that I would not show to many people. When I sent it to my friend R, in DC, he laughed and said, “You look like that runaway bride from Georgia! Your eyes are like the size of half-dollars, what happened to you?!” There’s another pic that K took that I am attaching that has on the left of the frame, a sliver of my face, and on the far right of the frame, it is unmistakably Dave’s arm. He had just walked away from signing a shirt that I had. It captures the moment perfectly.
So it’s now close to 3:00am and we get a Rockstar at the gas station and drive home. We’re pumped, reliving the concert and the meet and greet for about an hour of the drive. When we finally see the Gateway Arch in downtown St. Louis (around 5:30), I am practically hallucinating from lack of sleep. --J
I was shocked how many people in the audience were hardcore Weezer fans. While I like a few of their songs, I’ve read one too many interview with Rivers Cuomo and his reluctant rock star shtick. These frat boys sitting behind us were all “Dude, are you gonna stay for Foo Fighters?” “Dude, I don’t know”. “Dude, I just want to see fuckin Weezer man!” I was thinking to myself, yeah, why don’t you move along fellas. We had great seats but the numbering in the arena was weird. I never got a handle on it but let’s just say I had confronted someone for being in what I thought was our seats and it turned out they weren’t. And we in turn got confronted by two separate groups of people thinking we were in their seats but we were in the right then. It was strange. During the Weezer show, they pulled a guy from the audience who got to play along with them and they gave him an acoustic guitar.
Foo Fighters, as usual, put on one hell of a show. Having seen them a number of times in the past, this seemed like the biggest stage production of their careers. I was impressed and was now in disbelief that I was not really looking forward to the show due to the stresses of work that week. This is exactly what I needed. Dave did scale a very small ledge in the arena, walking pretty close to us on the balcony. Call me a mom, I almost couldn’t watch, afraid he would fall. By the end of the show, it felt like a great big party it was so loose and everyone was having such a good time.
After the show there was a party atmosphere in the parking lot so we hung out hoping that maybe we could get some pics of the band after the show. In situations like that, I always feel compelled to look around the crowd to see if I’m the oldest person there. Since Champaign is a college town, most people fell into the same demographic, but there was one woman who definitely looked older than us. I feel as though as long as I am around the same age as the band, meeting them shouldn’t be weird, but I think some of the young tuffs waiting around with us feel differently on the topic. Hey, Dave’s a year older, it shouldn’t matter!
The kid with the acoustic guitar from Weezer was out there and kept playing. At first it was charming, but it got way annoying as the night went on. His fifteen minutes were up but he was trying desperately to keep all the attention on him. Taylor came out first and signed stuff. I told him to bring his solo stuff to St. Louis and we talked for a minute about that. One of the security guards then stated that the rest of the band would be coming out but people had to stay behind the barricades. It was all very serious. Well, we waited for hours. I kept looking at K, saying do you want to wait? She had to be at work in the morning but she was fine with waiting. Just as we were about to pack it in, around 2:30am, Dave and Chris came out. It was strange how the security guards made such a big deal about us keeping our distance but when Dave came out, he was helping people with their digital cameras, taking pictures, and chatting, all outside of the barricade. I won’t even document the banter I had with him. I really do get starstruck and I was at that moment, so I sounded like an idiot. I did take a picture with him that I would not show to many people. When I sent it to my friend R, in DC, he laughed and said, “You look like that runaway bride from Georgia! Your eyes are like the size of half-dollars, what happened to you?!” There’s another pic that K took that I am attaching that has on the left of the frame, a sliver of my face, and on the far right of the frame, it is unmistakably Dave’s arm. He had just walked away from signing a shirt that I had. It captures the moment perfectly.
So it’s now close to 3:00am and we get a Rockstar at the gas station and drive home. We’re pumped, reliving the concert and the meet and greet for about an hour of the drive. When we finally see the Gateway Arch in downtown St. Louis (around 5:30), I am practically hallucinating from lack of sleep. --J
Saturday, July 8, 2006
Destination - Queens
Jamaica, Queens was my destination this week. I had a work trip with a colleague. It was my first time stepping foot on New York soil, which was extremely exciting and also upsetting since the closest I got to the Manhattan skyline was my hotel window.
On the way there, the opening lines from Christmas in Hollis by Run DMC kept running through my head. “It’s Christmastime in Hollis Queens. Mom’s cookin chicken and collard greens.” Since I never got out of Queens, I had to find some musical associations to the area so I could feel like the trip wasn’t all work. G-Unit is from Jamaica. So these were the streets where 50 Cent got showered with bullets? It didn’t look as tough as I expected. We also ate dinner in Astoria, birthplace of John Frusciante! Okay, now the trip was successful. Forget the effing Statue of Liberty.
The flight home was hell. I was in the dreaded middle seat next to a woman with a nine month old baby, an egg-headed baby. That might sound mean. It was cute but had an enormous head. When women become moms, sometimes I think they get ultra strange. This woman was no exception. When I made eye contact with her baby, which made him smile by the way, she looked at me as if she smelled something bad. As if to tell me, don’t stare at my child! I was thinking to myself that a strange face, especially one with glasses, always entertains a baby for a bit. You’ll need me later in this flight! The young woman on the other side of me said aloud, “That baby is so cute!” prompting the mom to look at the baby and say, “They are nicer than the people we sat next to on the way out, aren’t they?” It always cracks me up when instead of talking to you, people tell their kids stuff aloud for your benefit.
I put on my headphones and chose a little Saturday Night Fever soundtrack as we departed LaGuardia. Then the wailing began. This kid wouldn’t stop and the mom was whipping him around in various positions, trying to get him to stop crying, bumping that noggin of his into me repeatedly. For someone who seemed so protective the baby’s personal space, she thought nothing of letting that flat head of his rest on my arm for his all too brief nap. Then he was back up screaming and I couldn’t even hear a word of the Bee Gees’ Jive Talkin’. There would be no comparison of The Bee Gees or Tavares’ versions of More Than a Woman on this flight. I needed more than disco to drown this kid out.
Foo Fighters’ Monkey Wrench
Sleater-Kinney Entertain
Yeah Yeah Yeahs Cheated Hearts
I could still hear that baby. Thanks Baby, Thanks A lot!
--J
On the way there, the opening lines from Christmas in Hollis by Run DMC kept running through my head. “It’s Christmastime in Hollis Queens. Mom’s cookin chicken and collard greens.” Since I never got out of Queens, I had to find some musical associations to the area so I could feel like the trip wasn’t all work. G-Unit is from Jamaica. So these were the streets where 50 Cent got showered with bullets? It didn’t look as tough as I expected. We also ate dinner in Astoria, birthplace of John Frusciante! Okay, now the trip was successful. Forget the effing Statue of Liberty.
The flight home was hell. I was in the dreaded middle seat next to a woman with a nine month old baby, an egg-headed baby. That might sound mean. It was cute but had an enormous head. When women become moms, sometimes I think they get ultra strange. This woman was no exception. When I made eye contact with her baby, which made him smile by the way, she looked at me as if she smelled something bad. As if to tell me, don’t stare at my child! I was thinking to myself that a strange face, especially one with glasses, always entertains a baby for a bit. You’ll need me later in this flight! The young woman on the other side of me said aloud, “That baby is so cute!” prompting the mom to look at the baby and say, “They are nicer than the people we sat next to on the way out, aren’t they?” It always cracks me up when instead of talking to you, people tell their kids stuff aloud for your benefit.
I put on my headphones and chose a little Saturday Night Fever soundtrack as we departed LaGuardia. Then the wailing began. This kid wouldn’t stop and the mom was whipping him around in various positions, trying to get him to stop crying, bumping that noggin of his into me repeatedly. For someone who seemed so protective the baby’s personal space, she thought nothing of letting that flat head of his rest on my arm for his all too brief nap. Then he was back up screaming and I couldn’t even hear a word of the Bee Gees’ Jive Talkin’. There would be no comparison of The Bee Gees or Tavares’ versions of More Than a Woman on this flight. I needed more than disco to drown this kid out.
Foo Fighters’ Monkey Wrench
Sleater-Kinney Entertain
Yeah Yeah Yeahs Cheated Hearts
I could still hear that baby. Thanks Baby, Thanks A lot!
--J
Heavy: The Story of Metal
You know how VH1 runs every program they produce into the ground? I know that they will eventually start running their four-part series on heavy metal again, because they ran it quite a bit in May. Look for Heavy: The Story of Metal on VH1 if you haven’t seen it. I don’t consider myself a heavy metal fan, but this documentary was terrific. Heavy metal has some true characters in its history and some hilarious moments in this program. I won’t even touch Sebastian Bach here. That needs an entirely separate post! One of my favorite quotes came in part three from Dee Snider. He was mentioning a time in metal where everyone decided to unplug. His response was...
“Thanks Tesla! What’s metal about that?! There was this unspoken thing on MTV that if you can’t unplug you’re not really a musician. You know what. You don’t see Tracy Chapman or Paul Simon plug into two Marshall stacks and ride the lightning!”
Hahahaha!
If you are a metal fan, Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City is a must read. Another favorite of mine on the topic and recommended by my brother is Seb Hunter's Hell Bent for Leather: Confessions of a Heavy Metal Addict.
--J
“Thanks Tesla! What’s metal about that?! There was this unspoken thing on MTV that if you can’t unplug you’re not really a musician. You know what. You don’t see Tracy Chapman or Paul Simon plug into two Marshall stacks and ride the lightning!”
Hahahaha!
If you are a metal fan, Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City is a must read. Another favorite of mine on the topic and recommended by my brother is Seb Hunter's Hell Bent for Leather: Confessions of a Heavy Metal Addict.
--J
Thursday, July 6, 2006
Running to Stand Still and Say Goodbye
Whenever I go home to Huntsville I have to brace myself to face the ghosts of failed romances and friendships. You may not be able to imagine that so much life can happen in a relatively small southern city, but it can. The lack of city activities fosters strong relationships and friendships. You get used to lazing around at people’s houses and get to know their families. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world, but you only realize the beauty in something when you no longer have it, don’t you?
When I go back now, I remember all the good and bad living I did, but there is one particular person that is present in almost every one of those memories, T. A 1998 wake was the setting of our first hook-up, so we joke. We held hands after paying our respects and that’s when it started. Maybe this was an omen, but we didn’t look at it in that way. We looked at it as two lost souls finding love via one of the most brutally honest events one can experience.
The next several years consisted of me telling him where to go, casual hook-ups, reconciliations, earth-shattering break-ups, him telling me where to go, casual hook-ups, reconciliations, and on and on. Despite the ups and downs, we were nothing but true to each other. Actually, we weren’t always faithful, but we never pretended to be anything but our true selves with each other. One of the things that we were true to each other about was the fact that we were both seriously music-obsessed. Together we spent a lot of time listening to music and talking about it. There is one band, however, whose music embodies our entire 8-year pathetic, yet exquisite on and off again relationship: U2. We were both lifelong fans, but his love of them trumped mine. He would get an itch and make me listen to a song like “A Sort of Homecoming” from beginning to end and then want to discuss its greatness. When this kind of mood would grab this 6’2” dude, his big blue eyes would widen and he would get a far-away look. It always made me smile. If he could do anything it was make me melt with his child-like love for this music. I always felt very safe with him. Even when, at hearing this from me, he would answer with the question, “what do I protect you from? Bandits?” He knew exactly what I meant, but he liked making me laugh. And this he did often, including in 2004 when I called him from a Sydney hotel room (one of many I lived out of) crying my eyes out because I was painfully homesick. Even in another hemisphere, through his humor and comforting words he could force me to rest my mind and stop the racing thoughts I would often suffer. This is a man who saw me anorexic, over-medicated, hammered, spoiled. Yet he still saw beauty and child-like innocence in me (though I was convinced the well was dried up there). We sought solace in each other, really, and that’s what always brought us back together.
Back to U2. One year, T presented me with a handful of mixed cds he made that contained several live performances of U2 music representing different phases in their career. Long before we had iTunes or Limewire, we had Napster!
1. Greatest Hits Live. This disc included Surrender, Bad, I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, and a great version of Whiskey in The Jar. This last piece is mostly sung by the crowd, which gives me chills even now.
2. Pop Life in Mexico. This disc included all of the songs performed on the VHS. “Miami” is a highlight. When you live in Huntsville, you hear tornado sirens often during storm season. Some of us, including T and myself, learned to look forward to this season. It had a way of shaking things up and reminding you that there was something bigger than you in this universe. The sirens in this song give me that funny feeling in my stomach that I always got when I would know it was time to seek shelter.
3. Zoo TV Tonight. Like Pop Life in Mexico, this disc includes the songs one sees on the VHS. My favorite is “Ultraviolet”, which I don’t believe is on the VHS. It’s my favorite song from Achtung Baby. T knew this and made sure to get it on the cd. Bono’s lyrics became a vehicle of sorts for T. Through him, T could express what he was feeling towards “us” when he couldn’t do it himself. This song is an example of that. I didn’t mind. Bono helped us communicate just fine when things were good and even more so when things were bad. In many ways, Achtung Baby’s themes of betrayal and redemption represent a huge part of our relationship.
In 2000, we drove across Arizona together and had the best and worst road trip of our lives. We listened to a lot of music together (Oh, the amount of Rush he subjected me to), but U2’s Pop was a constant part of the soundtrack. He had seen Pop Mart at Sun Devil stadium in Tempe during that tour. Miles away from Huntsville, T had a connection to U2 in that desert state and it would become that way for both of us.
When U2 took All That You Can’t Leave Behind on the road in 2001, T and I both saw them perform in Atlanta. We weren’t together at this time. In fact, we were both there with other people, but we knew we were there together. It wasn’t a week after that show that we were hooking up again. One song from that cd, “Kite”, stands out in this collection. Back then, he called me once to ask if I thought of him when I heard it. Of course I did. How could I not when I hear “I’m a man, / I’m not a child/ A man who sees/ The shadow behind your eyes”. I could never hide from him, no matter how much I sometimes tried.
A lot of life happened throughout our life together, which ended for good in March of 2006 (we even got involved with other people at some point). Throughout, U2 remained a part of our lives until the final end with How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb’s “Original of the Species”. A couple of weeks ago on my way to California, when I was flying over the AZ desert, where we had once been exhausted and road-weary, I sat alone in the back of an empty plane and this song came on through my earbuds. For a couple of months, I had been running away from accepting the fact that I had said my final goodbye to a friend and lover who had always been there in life and in mind. Forced to slow down because of the plane, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing as I watched the familiar desert landscape slowly roll away under me. I accepted that it was the end of an era for two people who for years couldn’t seem to resist each other. We had often saved each other from the darkness, even though at times each led the other sans apology into an emotional abyss. I will never understand exactly why he wasn’t the one for me. But, I know that I have to accept some truths, no matter how incredible they seem to be.
In the end, I’ve returned from my first trip back to Huntsville since the final breakup and decided I needed to write about how much U2 means to me with reference to T, now another figurative ghost in that town. The years I spent with him will forever be protected and locked away in my heart, but played out again and again with every U2 song I will ever hear. As I re-read this post, I feel as though I have failed at truly representing what U2 and T mean to me, but it’s been nice to sit still and finally say goodbye.
Goodnight, Dublin-city. -K
When I go back now, I remember all the good and bad living I did, but there is one particular person that is present in almost every one of those memories, T. A 1998 wake was the setting of our first hook-up, so we joke. We held hands after paying our respects and that’s when it started. Maybe this was an omen, but we didn’t look at it in that way. We looked at it as two lost souls finding love via one of the most brutally honest events one can experience.
The next several years consisted of me telling him where to go, casual hook-ups, reconciliations, earth-shattering break-ups, him telling me where to go, casual hook-ups, reconciliations, and on and on. Despite the ups and downs, we were nothing but true to each other. Actually, we weren’t always faithful, but we never pretended to be anything but our true selves with each other. One of the things that we were true to each other about was the fact that we were both seriously music-obsessed. Together we spent a lot of time listening to music and talking about it. There is one band, however, whose music embodies our entire 8-year pathetic, yet exquisite on and off again relationship: U2. We were both lifelong fans, but his love of them trumped mine. He would get an itch and make me listen to a song like “A Sort of Homecoming” from beginning to end and then want to discuss its greatness. When this kind of mood would grab this 6’2” dude, his big blue eyes would widen and he would get a far-away look. It always made me smile. If he could do anything it was make me melt with his child-like love for this music. I always felt very safe with him. Even when, at hearing this from me, he would answer with the question, “what do I protect you from? Bandits?” He knew exactly what I meant, but he liked making me laugh. And this he did often, including in 2004 when I called him from a Sydney hotel room (one of many I lived out of) crying my eyes out because I was painfully homesick. Even in another hemisphere, through his humor and comforting words he could force me to rest my mind and stop the racing thoughts I would often suffer. This is a man who saw me anorexic, over-medicated, hammered, spoiled. Yet he still saw beauty and child-like innocence in me (though I was convinced the well was dried up there). We sought solace in each other, really, and that’s what always brought us back together.
Back to U2. One year, T presented me with a handful of mixed cds he made that contained several live performances of U2 music representing different phases in their career. Long before we had iTunes or Limewire, we had Napster!
1. Greatest Hits Live. This disc included Surrender, Bad, I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, and a great version of Whiskey in The Jar. This last piece is mostly sung by the crowd, which gives me chills even now.
2. Pop Life in Mexico. This disc included all of the songs performed on the VHS. “Miami” is a highlight. When you live in Huntsville, you hear tornado sirens often during storm season. Some of us, including T and myself, learned to look forward to this season. It had a way of shaking things up and reminding you that there was something bigger than you in this universe. The sirens in this song give me that funny feeling in my stomach that I always got when I would know it was time to seek shelter.
3. Zoo TV Tonight. Like Pop Life in Mexico, this disc includes the songs one sees on the VHS. My favorite is “Ultraviolet”, which I don’t believe is on the VHS. It’s my favorite song from Achtung Baby. T knew this and made sure to get it on the cd. Bono’s lyrics became a vehicle of sorts for T. Through him, T could express what he was feeling towards “us” when he couldn’t do it himself. This song is an example of that. I didn’t mind. Bono helped us communicate just fine when things were good and even more so when things were bad. In many ways, Achtung Baby’s themes of betrayal and redemption represent a huge part of our relationship.
In 2000, we drove across Arizona together and had the best and worst road trip of our lives. We listened to a lot of music together (Oh, the amount of Rush he subjected me to), but U2’s Pop was a constant part of the soundtrack. He had seen Pop Mart at Sun Devil stadium in Tempe during that tour. Miles away from Huntsville, T had a connection to U2 in that desert state and it would become that way for both of us.
When U2 took All That You Can’t Leave Behind on the road in 2001, T and I both saw them perform in Atlanta. We weren’t together at this time. In fact, we were both there with other people, but we knew we were there together. It wasn’t a week after that show that we were hooking up again. One song from that cd, “Kite”, stands out in this collection. Back then, he called me once to ask if I thought of him when I heard it. Of course I did. How could I not when I hear “I’m a man, / I’m not a child/ A man who sees/ The shadow behind your eyes”. I could never hide from him, no matter how much I sometimes tried.
A lot of life happened throughout our life together, which ended for good in March of 2006 (we even got involved with other people at some point). Throughout, U2 remained a part of our lives until the final end with How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb’s “Original of the Species”. A couple of weeks ago on my way to California, when I was flying over the AZ desert, where we had once been exhausted and road-weary, I sat alone in the back of an empty plane and this song came on through my earbuds. For a couple of months, I had been running away from accepting the fact that I had said my final goodbye to a friend and lover who had always been there in life and in mind. Forced to slow down because of the plane, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing as I watched the familiar desert landscape slowly roll away under me. I accepted that it was the end of an era for two people who for years couldn’t seem to resist each other. We had often saved each other from the darkness, even though at times each led the other sans apology into an emotional abyss. I will never understand exactly why he wasn’t the one for me. But, I know that I have to accept some truths, no matter how incredible they seem to be.
In the end, I’ve returned from my first trip back to Huntsville since the final breakup and decided I needed to write about how much U2 means to me with reference to T, now another figurative ghost in that town. The years I spent with him will forever be protected and locked away in my heart, but played out again and again with every U2 song I will ever hear. As I re-read this post, I feel as though I have failed at truly representing what U2 and T mean to me, but it’s been nice to sit still and finally say goodbye.
Goodnight, Dublin-city. -K
Tuesday, July 4, 2006
The Blasters - J's Review
Let me add a few things about Beale on Broadway, the venue for the show last night. The indoor part of the club is a pre-Civil War building, with not much room inside. Attached is a patio of sorts, which is all wood and does not look as nice as the picture on their website. The stage is outside and covered. It looks a bit like a shack with only one wall and some stilts holding the rest up. There are lights on the stage, but the audience is lit by the street lights of St. Louis, a few beer bottles hanging with white Christmas lights stuffed in them, and some tiki torches. Before The Blasters took the stage, we watched a train pass on an elevated platform through the city. The place definitely has atmosphere.
When we arrived, there was a lone bluesman playing a guitar on stage. Neither one of us are fans of that kind of music, so we just sat and talked about work, etc. The supporting act was announced as the only “roots rock” band in St. Louis, a band called Scott Kay and the Continentals (www.scottkayband.com). They sounded good and played some recognizable stuff like Johnny Cash’s Cry, Cry, Cry, and Mystery Train mixed in with some original hits. I enjoyed this more than The Blasters. Rockabilly bands, come to St. Louis! Scott Kay opens for every roots rock act that comes to St. Louis so they can probably handle a little healthy competition!
As for The Blasters, the club announcer mentioned that they have not played St. Louis in 10 years. The audience was crammed into the patio and spilling over into the parking lot. You could tell there were some hardcore fans. When they took the stage it was very understated and every song sounded the same with very low energy. You could tell the guys (audience predominantly men) were getting into it. I leaned over to K and said, “This is guy music”. When I listen to music like that, I can tolerate it, but I wonder, is it because I technically don’t know anything about music and guitar playing the reason why I don’t appreciate it? My brothers can talk about it at length and I am just bored. We didn’t stay for the whole set.
I had put together a playlist on my iPod before heading to the concert, and just for fun, added the song My Sharona off of The Knack’s Get the Knack album. My two older brothers bought that album for me for Christmas when I was nine years old and I thought it was the shit. My brother M teased me about it and would refuse to let me play it on his stereo. So maybe I still have crappy taste next to the two of them, I don’t know. I like to think we just have different taste, one not better than the other. We just like what we like. Isn’t that all a music lover can claim?
--J
If you want to get 80's with me, check out the video
When we arrived, there was a lone bluesman playing a guitar on stage. Neither one of us are fans of that kind of music, so we just sat and talked about work, etc. The supporting act was announced as the only “roots rock” band in St. Louis, a band called Scott Kay and the Continentals (www.scottkayband.com). They sounded good and played some recognizable stuff like Johnny Cash’s Cry, Cry, Cry, and Mystery Train mixed in with some original hits. I enjoyed this more than The Blasters. Rockabilly bands, come to St. Louis! Scott Kay opens for every roots rock act that comes to St. Louis so they can probably handle a little healthy competition!
As for The Blasters, the club announcer mentioned that they have not played St. Louis in 10 years. The audience was crammed into the patio and spilling over into the parking lot. You could tell there were some hardcore fans. When they took the stage it was very understated and every song sounded the same with very low energy. You could tell the guys (audience predominantly men) were getting into it. I leaned over to K and said, “This is guy music”. When I listen to music like that, I can tolerate it, but I wonder, is it because I technically don’t know anything about music and guitar playing the reason why I don’t appreciate it? My brothers can talk about it at length and I am just bored. We didn’t stay for the whole set.
I had put together a playlist on my iPod before heading to the concert, and just for fun, added the song My Sharona off of The Knack’s Get the Knack album. My two older brothers bought that album for me for Christmas when I was nine years old and I thought it was the shit. My brother M teased me about it and would refuse to let me play it on his stereo. So maybe I still have crappy taste next to the two of them, I don’t know. I like to think we just have different taste, one not better than the other. We just like what we like. Isn’t that all a music lover can claim?
--J
If you want to get 80's with me, check out the video
The Blasters- the Beale on Broadway, St. Louis
Last night, J and I watched the Blasters perform at The Beale on Broadway, a blues bar located between Soulard and downtown. We enjoyed the opening band’s energetic rockabilly set which was peppered with covers from the likes of Cash and Elvis. In comparison, we found the Blasters to be a bit more laid-back and therefore slightly anti-climactic (humble apologies to J’s brother S, who had left her a v/m telling her how much this band means to him and how much fun we would be having that night). Nonetheless, we enjoyed the evening's Americana. -K
Sunday, July 2, 2006
Hell Hop Bloodsuckahz
Both K and I are regular readers of the St. Louis entertainment paper, Riverfront Times. We were both taken aback by the story gracing the cover of the June 29th edition. We were reading it in Vintage Vinyl while waiting for Pete Yorn to take the stage, nudging each other to read quote after quote. Here’s a link to the full story.
http://www.riverfronttimes.com/Issues/2006-06-28/news/feature_full.html
Hell hop? Where do I begin? I’m all for people expressing themselves, but this is ridiculous. There were 1,300 fans at the latest hell hop event. Can you believe that?
This is one of my favorite quotes about the vampire rapper:
“An emerging rapper who lives with his mother in an O’Fallon subdivision, Flowers seldom breaks character – not at the mall, not while smoking Newports with his crew at Culpeppers, and not for an instant at his Pageant concert in March.”
What kills me about this is living in O’Fallon and eating at Culpeppers is about as safe and suburban as one gets. My recommendation to him is to try the Culpepper Burger, one of my favorites.
No big surprise that Insane Clown Posse is partially responsible for this bullshit. Here’s a little history about these bozos (no pun intended). “The largely white, suburban followers of the group were later named Juggalos, after the ICP song “The Juggla”, about a mentally disturbed carnival juggler”. Doesn’t this sound like a parody from a Christopher Guest movie?
I could go on and on, but read the article for yourself. The writer at the RFT did a great job reporting this story with a straight face. I don’t think I could have done the same.
--J
http://www.riverfronttimes.com/Issues/2006-06-28/news/feature_full.html
Hell hop? Where do I begin? I’m all for people expressing themselves, but this is ridiculous. There were 1,300 fans at the latest hell hop event. Can you believe that?
This is one of my favorite quotes about the vampire rapper:
“An emerging rapper who lives with his mother in an O’Fallon subdivision, Flowers seldom breaks character – not at the mall, not while smoking Newports with his crew at Culpeppers, and not for an instant at his Pageant concert in March.”
What kills me about this is living in O’Fallon and eating at Culpeppers is about as safe and suburban as one gets. My recommendation to him is to try the Culpepper Burger, one of my favorites.
No big surprise that Insane Clown Posse is partially responsible for this bullshit. Here’s a little history about these bozos (no pun intended). “The largely white, suburban followers of the group were later named Juggalos, after the ICP song “The Juggla”, about a mentally disturbed carnival juggler”. Doesn’t this sound like a parody from a Christopher Guest movie?
I could go on and on, but read the article for yourself. The writer at the RFT did a great job reporting this story with a straight face. I don’t think I could have done the same.
--J
Pete Yorn @ Vintage Vinyl
Saturday turned out to be a perfect day. I started out feeling slightly guilty because I wasn’t willing to drive A., my ten year old daughter, to a free B5 concert at the Gateway Arch in downtown St. Louis. Last year I took her to a Raven Symons concert at the same location and it was a bust. I had to carry her on my back most of the show so she could see the stage, and since she is now five feet tall, I wasn’t in the mood to do that. Also, weeks ago, I had been meaning to tell K that Pete Yorn was playing at the Duck Room at Blueberry Hill in University City, but because of my travel for work, I forgot to mention it. In the interim the damn show sold out! To my delight, I picked up the St. Louis Post-Dispatch on Thursday and read that he would be doing an in-store acoustic set at Vintage Vinyl in U. City. We had to go. I told A. she could come along with us. She was excited to be hanging out since I think she thinks K is HER friend, but she was not too thrilled about the musical selection.
We arrived about 12:30 and looked around the store. A. discovered String Doll Gang at the counter. You can see these cute little guys from the following link. http://www.kamibashi.com/papers/stringdolls/ She spent most of her time in the store pouring over the variety before selecting Bella.
Before the set began, K and I were discussing how strange in-store gigs are. Here we are standing among aisles of CDs at two in the afternoon, with the brightest of fluorescent lights, about three feet from the artist. I don’t know if I were an artist, if I could take that kind of pressure. Pete arrived and commented on that very same point in between songs. He sounded really great, even though he confessed being hung over from many shots in Kansas the night before. He didn’t need to confess his sins, no one would have known. He played a great set which made me sad that we didn’t have tickets to the evening’s show. Now I’m playing Musicforthemorningafter nonstop today.
After the set, we did some shopping, grabbed some gyros, a bottle of wine, and headed back to my place to watch Life on the Murder Scene, the My Chemical Romance documentary, then we moved on to Pearl Jam’s Storytellers. The former was good, the latter was preachy. At some point in between, we were playing ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys songs on the computer. Hey, we’re not too embarrassed to admit loving ‘N Sync’s I Want You Back, at least not after four glasses of wine in the privacy of my home. We also listened to the free download on iTunes by Boy Kill Boy called Suzie. Check it out. It’s a great summer song.
--J
We arrived about 12:30 and looked around the store. A. discovered String Doll Gang at the counter. You can see these cute little guys from the following link. http://www.kamibashi.com/papers/stringdolls/ She spent most of her time in the store pouring over the variety before selecting Bella.
Before the set began, K and I were discussing how strange in-store gigs are. Here we are standing among aisles of CDs at two in the afternoon, with the brightest of fluorescent lights, about three feet from the artist. I don’t know if I were an artist, if I could take that kind of pressure. Pete arrived and commented on that very same point in between songs. He sounded really great, even though he confessed being hung over from many shots in Kansas the night before. He didn’t need to confess his sins, no one would have known. He played a great set which made me sad that we didn’t have tickets to the evening’s show. Now I’m playing Musicforthemorningafter nonstop today.
After the set, we did some shopping, grabbed some gyros, a bottle of wine, and headed back to my place to watch Life on the Murder Scene, the My Chemical Romance documentary, then we moved on to Pearl Jam’s Storytellers. The former was good, the latter was preachy. At some point in between, we were playing ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys songs on the computer. Hey, we’re not too embarrassed to admit loving ‘N Sync’s I Want You Back, at least not after four glasses of wine in the privacy of my home. We also listened to the free download on iTunes by Boy Kill Boy called Suzie. Check it out. It’s a great summer song.
--J
I May Look Like a Sugar in a Plum Today, I Don't Know
Boney M. I don’t remember this disco band growing up, but wikipedia tells me that they were “phenomenally successful in the 70s and 80s”. How I learned of them was through my best girlfriend N, an Indian who was raised in Dubai and my then boyfriend, B, who was of Jordanian nationality. B was a HUGE AC/DC and Led Zeppelin fan. Imagine my surprise when, in the car on the way to dinner, he pulled out of his glove compartment a blank tape on which he had recorded a compilation of Boney M music. My girlfriend's boyfriend, a fiery, red-haired tall white guy from Appalachia, was in the car as well. My friend and B went on and on about how great this band was. What her boyfriend and I couldn’t get over was how bad this music was. And the lyrics made no sense at all. For example,
Brown girl in the ring
Tra la la la la
There’s a brown girl in the ring
Tra la la la la la
Brown girl in the ring
Tra la la la la
She looks like a sugar in a plum
Plum plum
We couldn’t help but mock this music by screaming the nonsensical lyrics. While we cracked ourselves up, we didn’t realize how upset we were making the other two. Apparently, this band was incredibly cool in the Middle East during the 70s and 80s. But how do you look like a sugar in a plum? What does that mean? Just today, B IM’ed me from Jordan and he was very eager to tell me that one of their songs has now been remixed and you can download it from iTunes. In fact, you can download multiple tracks of theirs on iTunes, I discovered. I’ll close this post by reacting as I did in IM, “cool”.
Note to American readers: Strongly recommend not making fun of your foreign friends' musical tastes. The conversation may spiral downwards and morph into a culturalist discussion on how the American collective considers itself superior to the rest of the world. This may put a damper on the rest of the evening if you're on your way out to dinner with the aforementioned foreign friends.
-K
Saturday, July 1, 2006
HFStival 2005
It had been some time since the last Foo show, so when I heard that they were planning to play the HFStival in Baltimore May 14, 2005, the wheels began to turn. How was I going to get to Baltimore? I have a high school friend who lives in Maryland that I had wanted to visit. I began to compile a list of friends who would be willing to make the twenty hour roundtrip road trip in a weekend. I was able to convince my friend Mel that she must go with me. I baited her by telling her that she had not lived until she had seen a Foo show, and then reeled her in with the mention of Coldplay. We called our friend R in Maryland and he said he and his wife L were totally on board. I’ve known Mel since the 9th grade. She asked me as we began to drive how long I had been a Foo Fighters fan. I responded that I knew all kinds of facts about the band. But in order to not freak her out, I would simply pepper factoids throughout the trip. She laughed. The drive out Friday was catching up talk about work, friends, family, etc and scouring the iPod for songs from our past. We arrived at R & L’s place in Maryland that evening and caught up with them. They are always so much fun.
Saturday we hit the concert venue at around noon. Interpol was on stage. We got to hear a few of their songs, which was quite enough. They’re okay, but everything kind of sounds the same. Highlights for me were Garbage, a very drunk Echo and the Bunnymen leaving the stage after about 3 minutes of performing, Social Distortion, and Billy Idol. Billy Idol had everyone on their feet. Don’t even get me started on how much Good Charlotte sucks! I’ll never get back to my main point of discussion.
After Billy’s performance, concern began to creep in. The rain began to fall. We were hot so the rain first felt okay, but then sheets of rain with thunder and lightening began. The crowd began to thin out, leaving the very drunk from a long day in the sun, and us. We continued to sit and watch.
Coldplay was delayed but eventually took the stage. After Coldplay, there were more delays. In fact they made everyone move under cover within the stadium because of lightning. The security folks were telling the crowd that the show was going to be cancelled without the final act performing. I was sitting there in knots. Did my friends want to leave? Here they were, soaked to the bone but still smiling that weird plastered on courtesy smile. Mel told me later, she sitting there in knots afraid I was going to be so disappointed after driving ten hours then not seeing my favorite band. I knew I would go to another Foo concert, especially with In Your Honor hitting stores in a matter of weeks, so at the moment I was more worried about my friends sitting there being miserable but afraid to say they wanted to leave. Just when we all thought we would have to pack it in and head home, the rain subsided, and the show went on.
When we got R & L’s house and I took off my St. Louis Cardinals cap that I had been wearing all day, I notice that my hair was stained bright red due to all of the rain. The next day, Mel and I had a ten hour drive back to her home in Chicago and then I had five additional hours to St. Louis. It was all worth it. What a show!
--J
Saturday we hit the concert venue at around noon. Interpol was on stage. We got to hear a few of their songs, which was quite enough. They’re okay, but everything kind of sounds the same. Highlights for me were Garbage, a very drunk Echo and the Bunnymen leaving the stage after about 3 minutes of performing, Social Distortion, and Billy Idol. Billy Idol had everyone on their feet. Don’t even get me started on how much Good Charlotte sucks! I’ll never get back to my main point of discussion.
After Billy’s performance, concern began to creep in. The rain began to fall. We were hot so the rain first felt okay, but then sheets of rain with thunder and lightening began. The crowd began to thin out, leaving the very drunk from a long day in the sun, and us. We continued to sit and watch.
Coldplay was delayed but eventually took the stage. After Coldplay, there were more delays. In fact they made everyone move under cover within the stadium because of lightning. The security folks were telling the crowd that the show was going to be cancelled without the final act performing. I was sitting there in knots. Did my friends want to leave? Here they were, soaked to the bone but still smiling that weird plastered on courtesy smile. Mel told me later, she sitting there in knots afraid I was going to be so disappointed after driving ten hours then not seeing my favorite band. I knew I would go to another Foo concert, especially with In Your Honor hitting stores in a matter of weeks, so at the moment I was more worried about my friends sitting there being miserable but afraid to say they wanted to leave. Just when we all thought we would have to pack it in and head home, the rain subsided, and the show went on.
When we got R & L’s house and I took off my St. Louis Cardinals cap that I had been wearing all day, I notice that my hair was stained bright red due to all of the rain. The next day, Mel and I had a ten hour drive back to her home in Chicago and then I had five additional hours to St. Louis. It was all worth it. What a show!
--J
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