Alabaster City Fest was a completely new experience for me. Not only have I never been to it before, but I've never been to any music festival anywhere that was so mellow.
We made the one-hour drive from Tuscaloosa so that Jason could see Tonic. He hadn't done so since we lived in Ohio several years ago, and the free festival seemed like a good opportunity.
Upon arriving at Alabaster City Park, we found the area in front of the Main Stage packed with people - all sitting in lawn chairs like bumps on logs. I felt sorry for the band that was performing when we got there. Though their rockabilly music was pretty upbeat, the crowd seemed dead. There was no applause when the band finished each song. I detected not so much as a tapping foot among the folks seated near us.
We figured we'd be standing and brought nothing to sit on, but fortunately found open seats at picnic tables lined up to the side of the music area. We weren't terribly close to the stage but near enough to see the band members' faces distinctly. The speakers were plenty loud; we heard the music from the parking lot 1/2 mile away.
We saw about 15 minutes of White Oaks' set, then sat for another 30 minutes waiting for Tonic to come on (at the exact moment they were scheduled). About 10 minutes of that was consumed with City Fest business: a word from the sponsors at the local CBS affiliate and a drawing by one of the vendors for iPod prizes. The shooting of T-shirts from an air cannon seemed to wake up the crowd, so they had a little bit of pep to them by the time Tonic took the stage.
A small crowd of Tonic fans formed right in front of the stage, but we opted to stay seated where we were. We enjoyed a nice relaxing hour of good music on a temperate Alabama June evening. Jason danced in his seat and sang along to the songs he knew, and others around us also showed signs of life, tapping their feet, clapping, even getting up to dance. Generally speaking, though, the throngs of festival goers remained planted immobile in their lawn chairs. Failure of most of the crowd to repeat "Ohs" during a moment of participation led lead singer Emerson Hart to muse that the attendees apparently were too tired from sitting in the sun all day to play along.
Otherwise, the set lacked much banter. Hart thanked us many times for having them and frequently mentioned how cool it was that Alabaster was able to get so many folks together in a park for a free concert. The only memorable bit of between-song chatter occurred when Hart called out the folks who had hot air balloons in the kids area of the festival. Apparently, the balloon dude ruled.
Despite the lame crowd, Tonic rocked out. They gave no rest to their bevy of guitars and sounded great vocally.
I don't know them well enough to provide a set list, and Jason's not good enough with song titles to help me out. I can tell you that their one-hour set opened with the decade-old singles "Open Up Your Eyes" and "You Wanted More," and that the last three songs were "If You Could Only See," "Casual Affair" (with an attempt at crowd participation), and a nicely-done cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Go Your Own Way." Furthermore, I know that their most recent single "Take Me As I Am" was somewhere in the middle.
We knew no one else on the schedule - including the headliner, country star Terri Clark - so we bailed as soon as Tonic finished and beat the crowd out of the park. But, Tonic's set was well worth the trip. The Dairy Queen we found near the freeway entrance was icing on the cake, so to speak (Tuscaloosa's DQ closed a couple years ago).
Sunday, June 7, 2009
UP is a downer (WARNING: Contains some spoilers)
Pixar has been generating incredible films for years, and I'm always excited to see what they're going to do next. Upon seeing the first trailers for UP months ago, I was skeptical. An old guy sailing off in his house? How exciting could that be? Yet because it was Pixar, I was willing to give it a try, especially after hearing the rave reviews from everyone else.
Although the animation was characteristically well done and the script deceptively deep, I wish I'd steered clear. In the tradition of Marley and Me, trailers for UP lead you to believe you're heading into a light-hearted adventure/comedy when what you actually get is an emotionally-draining heart-breaker. It's a cruel bait and switch.
We meet Carl Fredrickson (voiced in his elder years by the iconic Ed Asner) when he is a young boy who dreams of following in the footsteps of famous adventurer Charles Muntz. During the first several minutes of the film, we watch as Fredrickson and childhood sweetheart Ellie marry and grow old, repeatedly setting aside their dream of traveling to South America due to the expenses of everyday life. During the remainder of the film, Fredrickson comes to terms with Ellie's death as he attempts to make good on his childhood promise to fly them to Paradise Falls.
Fredrickson is not alone on his journey. Along the way, he picks up a young Wilderness Explorer (a fictional film version of the Boy Scouts) named Russell, a talking dog named Dug, and a colorful chocoholic bird that Russell dubs "Kevin." This motley crew presents a few moments of comic relief, but most of these appear in the trailers.
A wicked Muntz (who inexplicably still lives and somehow seems YOUNGER than Fredrickson, although he would have to be 15-20 years older) is after Kevin's rare bird breed and believes that Fredrickson and his young companion are in South America to undermine him. Trying to get Kevin safely to her chicks and Fredrickson's house to Paradise Falls before the helium balloons carrying it deflate, all while eluding Muntz and his pack of trained pooches, brings plenty of classic Pixar adventure as well as the conflict necessary for interesting drama.
UP's writers do a fantastic job with character development. Not only do we fully understand Fredrickson's pain and the urgency of getting his and Ellie's home to the falls, but we also feel for Russell after learning of the disappointments dished out by an absentee dad. The bumbling but friendly Dug and even Kevin (who has no dialog) burst with personality, and we want to pull for them just as emphatically as we root against Muntz. Even our villain has considerable depth. Banished to Paradise Falls after being labeled a fraud, he seeks to redeem himself by bringing back real evidence of the undocumented bird breed. We want to feel sorry for him, until we realize the length to which he's willing to go and the malevolent methods he's willing to employ to achieve his goal.
Overall, UP delivers a complex story told beautifully through top-notch animation and stellar voice-acting. Unfortunately, the light-hearted moments are too few to overcome the sad theme, and this seriously hampers enjoyment of the film. Furthermore, the plethora of children seated around us seemed bored by the middle of the movie, providing evidence that it does not provide enough adventure or humor to sustain juvenile attention for its 96-minute running time.
Although the animation was characteristically well done and the script deceptively deep, I wish I'd steered clear. In the tradition of Marley and Me, trailers for UP lead you to believe you're heading into a light-hearted adventure/comedy when what you actually get is an emotionally-draining heart-breaker. It's a cruel bait and switch.
We meet Carl Fredrickson (voiced in his elder years by the iconic Ed Asner) when he is a young boy who dreams of following in the footsteps of famous adventurer Charles Muntz. During the first several minutes of the film, we watch as Fredrickson and childhood sweetheart Ellie marry and grow old, repeatedly setting aside their dream of traveling to South America due to the expenses of everyday life. During the remainder of the film, Fredrickson comes to terms with Ellie's death as he attempts to make good on his childhood promise to fly them to Paradise Falls.
Fredrickson is not alone on his journey. Along the way, he picks up a young Wilderness Explorer (a fictional film version of the Boy Scouts) named Russell, a talking dog named Dug, and a colorful chocoholic bird that Russell dubs "Kevin." This motley crew presents a few moments of comic relief, but most of these appear in the trailers.
A wicked Muntz (who inexplicably still lives and somehow seems YOUNGER than Fredrickson, although he would have to be 15-20 years older) is after Kevin's rare bird breed and believes that Fredrickson and his young companion are in South America to undermine him. Trying to get Kevin safely to her chicks and Fredrickson's house to Paradise Falls before the helium balloons carrying it deflate, all while eluding Muntz and his pack of trained pooches, brings plenty of classic Pixar adventure as well as the conflict necessary for interesting drama.
UP's writers do a fantastic job with character development. Not only do we fully understand Fredrickson's pain and the urgency of getting his and Ellie's home to the falls, but we also feel for Russell after learning of the disappointments dished out by an absentee dad. The bumbling but friendly Dug and even Kevin (who has no dialog) burst with personality, and we want to pull for them just as emphatically as we root against Muntz. Even our villain has considerable depth. Banished to Paradise Falls after being labeled a fraud, he seeks to redeem himself by bringing back real evidence of the undocumented bird breed. We want to feel sorry for him, until we realize the length to which he's willing to go and the malevolent methods he's willing to employ to achieve his goal.
Overall, UP delivers a complex story told beautifully through top-notch animation and stellar voice-acting. Unfortunately, the light-hearted moments are too few to overcome the sad theme, and this seriously hampers enjoyment of the film. Furthermore, the plethora of children seated around us seemed bored by the middle of the movie, providing evidence that it does not provide enough adventure or humor to sustain juvenile attention for its 96-minute running time.
Cheese blintzes with blueberry sauce recipe
Recipes have been just as sparse as movie reviews on this new blog, part of the reason being I haven't been cooking a lot lately (too hot, too busy). But Jason and I have been trying to come up with something different for our usual Sunday morning Cribbage breakfast, and seeing prepared crepes in the produce section of our grocery store last weekend inspired me.
We've tried making crepes from scratch before and found the process tedious and disastrous. We just don't have the delicate hands required. Thus, when I mentioned to Jason that I wanted crepes for breakfast today, he gave me a look that screamed, "What are you smoking?" When I said we'd use prepared crepes, he thought my idea sounded good.
I wanted something light but filling. I wanted cheese. I wanted berries. Upon combining the simple blintz filling from an otherwise complicated Emeril Lagasse recipe with our store-bought crepes and a blueberry sauce from the VeganDad blog, I hit on something delicious.
The cinnamon sugar portion of Emeril's recipe makes WAY too much topping. He combines 1 tsp. cinnamon with 2 tbsp. sugar for eight blintzes. We managed to get nine blitzes out of our filling, and even stretching the topping to cover the extra blintz, the cinnamon-sugar flavor was a little overwhelming. I've halved it for the published recipe.
I used fresh blueberries for the sauce, although the recipe linked above calls for frozen. Because they're in season, that's practical now. If you're making this recipe in a few months, frozen will do.
Sunday morning cheese blintzes with blueberry sauce
Ingredients:
Filling
1 1/2 cups ricotta cheese
1/2 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 large egg
3 tablespoons confectioners' sugar
1 lemon, zest finely grated
Store-bought 9- or 10-inch French crepes
Sauce
2 cups blueberries
1 cup water
3/4 cup sugar
2 tbsp cornstarch
2 tbsp lemon juice
Topping
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tbsp. sugar
INSTRUCTIONS:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees
1. Combine all filling ingredients in a medium bowl. Whisk until smooth.
2. Spoon 1/4 cup of the filling down the bottom third of each crepe. Fold the edges over the filling, roll to seal the filling, and arrange in the bottom of a baking dish large enough to hold them in 1 layer.
3. Bake the blintzes until the bottom is golden brown and the filling is set, about 8 minutes.
4. While the blintzes are baking, make the sauce. Bring blueberries, 3/4 cup of the water, and sugar to bubbling in a saucepan.
5. Dissolve cornstarch in remaining 1/4 cup of water and add to pan. Stirring constantly, bring back to bubbling and let thicken.
6. Remove from heat and stir in lemon juice.
7. Stir together cinnamon and sugar in a small bowl.
8. Sprinkle cinnamon sugar topping over crepes.
9. Serve with blueberry sauce.
We've tried making crepes from scratch before and found the process tedious and disastrous. We just don't have the delicate hands required. Thus, when I mentioned to Jason that I wanted crepes for breakfast today, he gave me a look that screamed, "What are you smoking?" When I said we'd use prepared crepes, he thought my idea sounded good.
I wanted something light but filling. I wanted cheese. I wanted berries. Upon combining the simple blintz filling from an otherwise complicated Emeril Lagasse recipe with our store-bought crepes and a blueberry sauce from the VeganDad blog, I hit on something delicious.
The cinnamon sugar portion of Emeril's recipe makes WAY too much topping. He combines 1 tsp. cinnamon with 2 tbsp. sugar for eight blintzes. We managed to get nine blitzes out of our filling, and even stretching the topping to cover the extra blintz, the cinnamon-sugar flavor was a little overwhelming. I've halved it for the published recipe.
I used fresh blueberries for the sauce, although the recipe linked above calls for frozen. Because they're in season, that's practical now. If you're making this recipe in a few months, frozen will do.
Sunday morning cheese blintzes with blueberry sauce
Ingredients:
Filling
1 1/2 cups ricotta cheese
1/2 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 large egg
3 tablespoons confectioners' sugar
1 lemon, zest finely grated
Store-bought 9- or 10-inch French crepes
Sauce
2 cups blueberries
1 cup water
3/4 cup sugar
2 tbsp cornstarch
2 tbsp lemon juice
Topping
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tbsp. sugar
INSTRUCTIONS:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees
1. Combine all filling ingredients in a medium bowl. Whisk until smooth.
2. Spoon 1/4 cup of the filling down the bottom third of each crepe. Fold the edges over the filling, roll to seal the filling, and arrange in the bottom of a baking dish large enough to hold them in 1 layer.
3. Bake the blintzes until the bottom is golden brown and the filling is set, about 8 minutes.
4. While the blintzes are baking, make the sauce. Bring blueberries, 3/4 cup of the water, and sugar to bubbling in a saucepan.
5. Dissolve cornstarch in remaining 1/4 cup of water and add to pan. Stirring constantly, bring back to bubbling and let thicken.
6. Remove from heat and stir in lemon juice.
7. Stir together cinnamon and sugar in a small bowl.
8. Sprinkle cinnamon sugar topping over crepes.
9. Serve with blueberry sauce.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Dum dum still has gum gum
It's a rare feat for a film sequel to live up to the lofty standards set by a spectacular original, but Night at the Museum 2 should satisfy fans of its predecessor as well as anyone who enjoys history and/or light-hearted adventure.
Battle of the Smithsonian picks up a couple years from where the original Night at the Museum left off. Hoping to keep up with technological trends, the board of New York's Museum of Natural History has decided to replace most of the antiquated exhibits with interactive holographs. Larry Daley (Ben Stiller), who has moved on from his night guard job to start his own gadget company, is called in to rescue the figures from deep storage at the National Archives (under the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C.).
Although many of the original characters reprise their roles, a majority of them are minor characters, with the exception of Daley and diorama miniatures Jed (Owen Wilson) and Octavius (Steve Coogan). Because the Tablet of Ahkmenrah's transfer to D.C. awakens the Smithsonian's inhabitants, however, we meet plenty of interesting new folks.
Apparently, Ahkmenrah's wicked brother Kahmunrah (played masterfully by the hilarious Hank Azaria) wants control of the magical tablet in order to free his army from the underworld. He takes Jed, Octavius, the cavemen, Attila and several of his Huns, and Sacajawea captive and recruits Napoleon, Ivan the Terrible and Al Capone (who, along with his gangsters, appears in black and white throughout the film) to help him carry out his evil plan. (In a particularly amusing moment, he rejects the aid of Oscar the Grouch and Darth Vader.)
Joining Daley in his fight for the good side are Amy Adams' adorable Amelia Earhart and the bumbling General George Armstrong Custer (SNL's Bill Hader). He also gets a hand from the Tuskegee Airmen and a HUGE Abe Lincoln (who is voiced by Azaria, as is the apparently Brooklyn native Thinker statue).
The tremendous array of activity that having the tablet at the massive, sprawling Smithsonian allows sets the sequel apart from the original. Battle of the Smithsonian's writers took advantage of every possibility, even bringing 2D art to life (Daley and Earhart jump into the 1940s in one scene through a portal created by the famous "Kiss at Times Square" photo). A trio of cupids from a fountain at the Smithsonian's entrance provide numerous comic moments with their contemporary music serenades, and the array of art-inspired critters and creatures that wander through the background may surprise and amuse you. The portal to the underworld even creates a Mummy-esque special effects moment.
Secondary to the main plot is how Daley feels about his new station in life. Unlike in the original, when he was a deadbeat aiming to turn his life around by taking the museum night guard position, Daley has achieved tremendous success as an inventor and corporate CEO. Although he resides in swank new Manhattan digs and has a pending deal with a major retailer in the offing, he's not entirely happy because he doesn't truly love the job that has come to consume his life. The rescue adventure and conversations with various characters help him to realize that.
Battle of the Smithsonian also has a slightly romantic element, as Earhart pursues Daley. It winds up being far more comic than sappy, which is perfect for this film.
Although we don't have as many animals in the Museum sequel as in the original, a few do play prominent roles. An octopus freed from storage during the early scenes reappears several times throughout the film, and Dexter the mischievous capuchin monkey meets his match in space monkey Able.
When discussing a film that features Ricky Gervais (star of the original BBC version of The Office and producer of the US version) as curator of the Museum of Natural History, it's worth noting that several NBC Office actors have cameos: Ed Helms (Andy Bernard) as Daley's assistant, Mindy Kaling (Kelly Kapoor) as a Smithsonian docent, and Craig Robinson (Darryl Philbin) as a Tuskegee Airman.
Overall, I found Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian to be a more than adequate sequel, providing just as much action, adventure and comic fun as the original but with enough added twists to keep it fresh. I give it 4 stars (out of five).
[BTW, as prolific a film reviewer as I was on my old blog, I find it really hard to believe that this is only my second film review on Scarlett's Web 2.0. Jason tells me we've been to the cinema eight times this year, but apparently, I haven't considered anything else I've seen either good or bad enough to spend time reviewing. Knowing how much you all value my opinion ;-), I'll try to do better in the future.]
Battle of the Smithsonian picks up a couple years from where the original Night at the Museum left off. Hoping to keep up with technological trends, the board of New York's Museum of Natural History has decided to replace most of the antiquated exhibits with interactive holographs. Larry Daley (Ben Stiller), who has moved on from his night guard job to start his own gadget company, is called in to rescue the figures from deep storage at the National Archives (under the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C.).
Although many of the original characters reprise their roles, a majority of them are minor characters, with the exception of Daley and diorama miniatures Jed (Owen Wilson) and Octavius (Steve Coogan). Because the Tablet of Ahkmenrah's transfer to D.C. awakens the Smithsonian's inhabitants, however, we meet plenty of interesting new folks.
Apparently, Ahkmenrah's wicked brother Kahmunrah (played masterfully by the hilarious Hank Azaria) wants control of the magical tablet in order to free his army from the underworld. He takes Jed, Octavius, the cavemen, Attila and several of his Huns, and Sacajawea captive and recruits Napoleon, Ivan the Terrible and Al Capone (who, along with his gangsters, appears in black and white throughout the film) to help him carry out his evil plan. (In a particularly amusing moment, he rejects the aid of Oscar the Grouch and Darth Vader.)
Joining Daley in his fight for the good side are Amy Adams' adorable Amelia Earhart and the bumbling General George Armstrong Custer (SNL's Bill Hader). He also gets a hand from the Tuskegee Airmen and a HUGE Abe Lincoln (who is voiced by Azaria, as is the apparently Brooklyn native Thinker statue).
The tremendous array of activity that having the tablet at the massive, sprawling Smithsonian allows sets the sequel apart from the original. Battle of the Smithsonian's writers took advantage of every possibility, even bringing 2D art to life (Daley and Earhart jump into the 1940s in one scene through a portal created by the famous "Kiss at Times Square" photo). A trio of cupids from a fountain at the Smithsonian's entrance provide numerous comic moments with their contemporary music serenades, and the array of art-inspired critters and creatures that wander through the background may surprise and amuse you. The portal to the underworld even creates a Mummy-esque special effects moment.
Secondary to the main plot is how Daley feels about his new station in life. Unlike in the original, when he was a deadbeat aiming to turn his life around by taking the museum night guard position, Daley has achieved tremendous success as an inventor and corporate CEO. Although he resides in swank new Manhattan digs and has a pending deal with a major retailer in the offing, he's not entirely happy because he doesn't truly love the job that has come to consume his life. The rescue adventure and conversations with various characters help him to realize that.
Battle of the Smithsonian also has a slightly romantic element, as Earhart pursues Daley. It winds up being far more comic than sappy, which is perfect for this film.
Although we don't have as many animals in the Museum sequel as in the original, a few do play prominent roles. An octopus freed from storage during the early scenes reappears several times throughout the film, and Dexter the mischievous capuchin monkey meets his match in space monkey Able.
When discussing a film that features Ricky Gervais (star of the original BBC version of The Office and producer of the US version) as curator of the Museum of Natural History, it's worth noting that several NBC Office actors have cameos: Ed Helms (Andy Bernard) as Daley's assistant, Mindy Kaling (Kelly Kapoor) as a Smithsonian docent, and Craig Robinson (Darryl Philbin) as a Tuskegee Airman.
Overall, I found Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian to be a more than adequate sequel, providing just as much action, adventure and comic fun as the original but with enough added twists to keep it fresh. I give it 4 stars (out of five).
[BTW, as prolific a film reviewer as I was on my old blog, I find it really hard to believe that this is only my second film review on Scarlett's Web 2.0. Jason tells me we've been to the cinema eight times this year, but apparently, I haven't considered anything else I've seen either good or bad enough to spend time reviewing. Knowing how much you all value my opinion ;-), I'll try to do better in the future.]
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I've never made a bet, but we gamble with desire
Twice during the month of April I witnessed the Believers Never Die Part Deux tour from the seats ringing the floor of an arena and, though pretty close to the stage, felt isolated from the party going on right in front of it. I yearned for the day I'd be right there, knowing it was coming when I caught the tour in a general admission only venue.
Last night, when I saw Hey Monday, All Time Low, Metro Station, Cobra Starship, and Fall Out Boy at the Time Warner Cable Amphitheater downtown Cleveland, I discovered there's truth to the adage, "Be careful what you wish for."
I'm short, so I knew it wouldn't do to be terribly far back from the stage. Therefore, I shelled out the extra cash for early entry to the standing room only tent next to the infamous Cuyahoga River. The email I received said to be there no later than 4:30, but knowing how quickly lines form for such things, we arrived near three. After picking up our VIP wristbands from the box office, Jason and I got our place in line. The regular entry line already was winding into the parking lot, and I was glad we'd gone the VIP route.
Near 4:30, venue staff separated the VIP group into folks going to the All Time Low meet and greet, folks going to the FOB meet and greet, and folks entering the venue early. The other two groups entered first. We were left out in the sun for an additional hour, wondering if the 150 or so people doing meet and greets were going to get into the tent before us.
Our gate didn't open until 5:30, the regular gate time. Yet when we got into the tent, no one was in front of the stage. I staked out my spot where I thought would be roughly halfway between Joe and Patrick once Fall Out Boy came on and congratulated myself for snagging a place in the front-row.
Jason went and got us a few bottles of Aquafina, as we knew that once our spot was secured, we'd be unable to move again. That turned out to be a good prediction, as we were unable to move AT ALL. Once they finally opened the main gate, a huge crowd swarmed in and we were pinned to the barricades.
We had less than an hour to wait before the first act appeared on stage. In the mean time, someone from MTV came out to entertain us. The Cleveland show was one of three stops on the BNDPD tour sponsored by MTVU, so they sent someone from the show $5 Cover to hype up the crowd.
Hey Monday began promptly at 6:30 p.m., and as soon as the music began, the crowd began to push forward. Those of us at the front already felt like sardines but became quite cozy as we were pushed into each other. My feet had begun to hurt before the show started, but I was pretty much lifted off of them, sandwiched between the barricade and the stranger behind me. That much was a blessing. Not being able to breathe, not so much.
Despite the close quarters, I much enjoyed Hey Monday's fun, high-energy set, which consisted of "Run Don't Walk," "Obvious," "Candles," "Homecoming," and "How You Love Me Now" (all tracks off their debut album, Hold On Tight). My heart flipped a little when guitarist/Bon Jovi look-a-like Alex and bassist Jersey came out to their respective mics and I realized just how close we were. I've had a teeny tiny crush on Jersey for a short while now, and it was awesome to be able to see up his cute little nose. haha
Lead singer Cassadee and guitarist Mike came to our side of the stage frequently, and we also got a nice visit from Pete Wentz during "Obvious." I was so excited, I took way too many pictures, mainly of Jersey and Alex (not just because they're cute, but because they were right in front of us most often). The rest of the crowd seemed really into it as well. Most of the people around me sang loudly to every song and screamed any time a band member approached the front of the stage. I knew we'd be in for a rowdy night.
The crowd didn't back off when Hey Monday finished. The push forward continued without music, much to the dismay of those of us at the barricade. A group of girls behind Jason started harassing him because he was leaning back and leaving space between himself and the barricade to avoid being squished. When one of them told Jason there was room for five people in front of him, he got fed up and told her off. That shut them up.
Jason and I expected to remain side by side at the barricade for the duration of the show, but when All Time Low came out, the crowd got really crazy, and Jason decide to step behind me with his arms stretched to the barricade on either side of me for my protection. The moshing and crowd surfing began in earnest, and Jason gave me many heads up so I could duck as surfers came over my head into the waiting arms of the security crew on the other side of the barricade.
Despite the insanity, I really enjoyed seeing All Time Low again, especially from a vantage point so close to the stage. The chemistry between guitarist Jack, singer Alex, drummer Rian, and bassist Zack makes for not only some awesome music but also some zany and highly entertaining stage antics. In addition to performing "Jasey Rae" and "Coffeeshop Soundtrack" from their EP Put Up or Shut Up and "Six Feet Under the Stars," "The Beach," "Poppin' Champagne," and "Dear Maria, Count Me In" from their full length album So Wrong, It's Right, they sang the Jimmy Eat World-esque debut single "Weightless" from the album Nothing Personal, due out next month.
Jack bridged the gap between stage and crowd twice for a little fan interaction. At one point, he ran around to the back of the crowd with his guitar, although I'm not sure how much he actually was able to play it. During the final song, he left his guitar on stage to visit with those of us in the front near the center. I helped hold him up while I snapped several pictures. I got a little of his sweat on me, but the best souvenir from the set was a pick that landed on Jason's arm. I thought Jack threw it out, but it has Alex's name on it.
By the time All Time Low finished their set, Jason almost had had enough of the crowd. He'd grown hot and frustrated, not to mention tired from fending off the pushing, moshing, crowd-surfing nuts. I, on the other hand, was happy in my little protective cocoon. The support from Jason and the barricade took tremendous weight off my feet, and the breeze blowing across the corridor between the barricade and stage kept me from overheating. I had just enough room to dance, which I did plenty of, along with singing, screaming and taking tons and tons of pictures. Although the late afternoon sun gave me a glare during Hey Monday, the lighting was perfect to get many excellent shots of the beautiful All Time Low boys.
Many other crowd members weren't nearly as comfortable as I and asked security to pull them out so they could get safely to the back of the tent. Security staff also hustled between acts to provide Dixie cups of water to the folks at the front of the crowd so no one got dehydrated. We were set with our own stash, though. Although two of our three bottles got kicked over during All Time Low, I caught them with my foot before too much spilled. We had plenty to hydrate ourselves as the crews tore down from one band and set up for the next.
Although All Time Low hyped the crowd to a crazy level, Metro Station pretty much killed the excitement. I enjoy their synth-poppy music, but most of the people around us weren't fans. (I know from the forum at absolutepunk.net that most people who like the other bands on the BNDPD tour do not like Metro Station at all.) I have to say that I didn't enjoy their set that much myself. Although I like all the songs they performed (self-titled debut album tracks "Wish We Were Older," "Control," "Kelsey," "Seventeen Forever," "Now That We're Done," and "Shake It," and T.I. cover "Dead and Gone"), their stage presence leaves a little to be desired. Guitarist/singer Mason swaggers about with unwarranted arrogance, while the other guitarist/singer Trace does anything and everything for attention, leaving him with little breath left to sing. Instead he speaks his lines in a slightly creepy voice. Furthermore, they're not really much to look at. Trace is actually a little repulsive.
Cobra Starship regained some of the energy lost on Metro Station, and then some. We had a fantastically fun dance party to debut hit "Bring It (Snakes on a Plane)" (which Hey Monday's Cassadee came out to help sing), Viva la Cobra tracks "The City Is at War," "Smile for the Paparazzi," "Kiss My Sass," and "Guilty Pleasure," and a single from their forthcoming album Hot Mess, "Pete Wentz is the Only Reason We're Famous." I think the adorable Gabe Saporta and company were a little taken aback by the crowd love, and they all performed their asses off in return. Honestly, theirs was the set of the night. In fact, it's the best set I've seen by any band in a very, very long time.
My only complaint is that keytarist Vicky-T and bassist Alex (my Cobra Starship crush) didn't visit our side of the stage, and my pictures of those two all suck because it had grown dark by the time they performed and my flash wasn't powerful enough to hit them on the opposite side.
Guitarist Ryland tossed out his water bottle at the end of the set, and Jason made an impressive catch. I dumped the water (love Ryland and all, but I'm not down with the backwash, especially with all the illnesses going around); I'll be keeping the bottle, though.
Cobra Starship had worked the crowd into an incredible frenzy, so the energy was at fever pitch by the time Fall Out Boy finally came out at 9:30. I don't think I can describe what I felt as the boys appeared before me. To be so close as they worked their musical magic far surpassed the experience of meeting them for 5 minutes in New Orleans. Unfortunately, we misjudged our stage placement and were directly in front of Joe rather than between him and Patrick, but I still was close enough to Patrick that I could see the roof of his mouth when he sang. It was wild.
I do love me some Joe, so it was fantastic to be able to make eye contact several times throughout the set. He looks so different with his hair cut shorter, but he still gave his characteristically frenzied performance, complete with plenty of his trademark Trohmania jumping spins.
We had a great view of Andy as well. That was the only time I've been able to actually see his face during a Fall Out Boy set, which was cool. He's so intense! Pete came over to visit us a few times. I hated myself for occasionally thinking, "Oh my God. Pete Wentz is right in front of me," but ass hole or not, the boy's a big deal.
Patrick wandered right in front of us just once, and I screamed my head off like the crazy fan girl I am. Other than that, I spent most of the set singing, dancing, and slightly fawning. I caught myself several times with my head propped on my hands, just staring at my boy adoringly. I've thought many a time as I've watched him play, whether live in concert or in videos, that he has the most amazing thighs. Being just a few yards away from them, I may have overheated slightly. The couple instances of eye contact made me giddy. And he sings so pretty!< / gush>
The euphoria of being so close to the boys I love, watching them perform the music I love, was off-set by the fact that the crowd surfing was out of control during several of the songs of FOB's set. Not only was it annoying and distracting to have to keep ducking out of the way of flying bodies, one of them injured me. About half-way through "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race," I heard Jason say heads up and ducked. I thought the guy was clear of me, but suddenly I felt a painful jolt against my right eye, and my glasses tumbled down my front.
I panicked for two reasons: one, my eye really hurt, and two, I wasn't sure I'd be able to retrieve my glasses from the bottom of the shaking sardine can. I got them and slapped them on my face, only to discover they'd been terribly warped. It took me the rest of that song and half of the next to bend my glasses back into position and wipe off all the smudges (which had tricked me into thinking my eye had gone terribly blurry). It was difficult to enjoy the rest of the set because I was afraid of being kicked again, especially during the last couple songs of the encore, when the crowd surfers came by one right after the other such that I barely heard any of the performance.
The setlist was identical to what they played in New Orleans, with one addition. During the encore, they did a pretty cool cover of OutKast's "Hey Ya!" between "Tiffany Blews" and "Dance, Dance." Cassadee still came out to help with "Sugar, We're Going Down," and Gabe still came out to sing his part of "What a Catch, Donnie," but All Time Low's Alex didn't make his typical appearance on "Grand Theft Autumn." I later discovered (via Twitter) that all of All Time Low (including their crew) had gone across the street to Progressive Field to take in the Indians/White Sox game right after their set.
Despite the frustration and injury, I had an amazing time at the show. It's an experience I'll never forget, nor will I likely repeat it. When I was in college, I routinely attended concerts and festivals where moshing and crowd-surfing were the norm, and I was quite used to coming out battered. It's been a long time since I've been in that sort of situation, however, and I think I've outgrown it.
Overall, the Believers Never Die Part Deux tour has consumed my last six weeks. I've been following the goings on via Twitter and experienced painful envy of the audience at the respective shows each night, all the while playing all of the bands' CDs ad nauseum. My three stops of the tour have provided an amazing opportunity to forget my troubles for a few hours while becoming completely absorbed in some amazing live music. Just three shows remain of the tour, and it is of course over for me, which is really sad.
To all the bands and their crew, I say Thks fr th Mmrs.
Last night, when I saw Hey Monday, All Time Low, Metro Station, Cobra Starship, and Fall Out Boy at the Time Warner Cable Amphitheater downtown Cleveland, I discovered there's truth to the adage, "Be careful what you wish for."
I'm short, so I knew it wouldn't do to be terribly far back from the stage. Therefore, I shelled out the extra cash for early entry to the standing room only tent next to the infamous Cuyahoga River. The email I received said to be there no later than 4:30, but knowing how quickly lines form for such things, we arrived near three. After picking up our VIP wristbands from the box office, Jason and I got our place in line. The regular entry line already was winding into the parking lot, and I was glad we'd gone the VIP route.
Near 4:30, venue staff separated the VIP group into folks going to the All Time Low meet and greet, folks going to the FOB meet and greet, and folks entering the venue early. The other two groups entered first. We were left out in the sun for an additional hour, wondering if the 150 or so people doing meet and greets were going to get into the tent before us.
Our gate didn't open until 5:30, the regular gate time. Yet when we got into the tent, no one was in front of the stage. I staked out my spot where I thought would be roughly halfway between Joe and Patrick once Fall Out Boy came on and congratulated myself for snagging a place in the front-row.
Jason went and got us a few bottles of Aquafina, as we knew that once our spot was secured, we'd be unable to move again. That turned out to be a good prediction, as we were unable to move AT ALL. Once they finally opened the main gate, a huge crowd swarmed in and we were pinned to the barricades.
We had less than an hour to wait before the first act appeared on stage. In the mean time, someone from MTV came out to entertain us. The Cleveland show was one of three stops on the BNDPD tour sponsored by MTVU, so they sent someone from the show $5 Cover to hype up the crowd.
Hey Monday began promptly at 6:30 p.m., and as soon as the music began, the crowd began to push forward. Those of us at the front already felt like sardines but became quite cozy as we were pushed into each other. My feet had begun to hurt before the show started, but I was pretty much lifted off of them, sandwiched between the barricade and the stranger behind me. That much was a blessing. Not being able to breathe, not so much.
Despite the close quarters, I much enjoyed Hey Monday's fun, high-energy set, which consisted of "Run Don't Walk," "Obvious," "Candles," "Homecoming," and "How You Love Me Now" (all tracks off their debut album, Hold On Tight). My heart flipped a little when guitarist/Bon Jovi look-a-like Alex and bassist Jersey came out to their respective mics and I realized just how close we were. I've had a teeny tiny crush on Jersey for a short while now, and it was awesome to be able to see up his cute little nose. haha
Lead singer Cassadee and guitarist Mike came to our side of the stage frequently, and we also got a nice visit from Pete Wentz during "Obvious." I was so excited, I took way too many pictures, mainly of Jersey and Alex (not just because they're cute, but because they were right in front of us most often). The rest of the crowd seemed really into it as well. Most of the people around me sang loudly to every song and screamed any time a band member approached the front of the stage. I knew we'd be in for a rowdy night.
The crowd didn't back off when Hey Monday finished. The push forward continued without music, much to the dismay of those of us at the barricade. A group of girls behind Jason started harassing him because he was leaning back and leaving space between himself and the barricade to avoid being squished. When one of them told Jason there was room for five people in front of him, he got fed up and told her off. That shut them up.
Jason and I expected to remain side by side at the barricade for the duration of the show, but when All Time Low came out, the crowd got really crazy, and Jason decide to step behind me with his arms stretched to the barricade on either side of me for my protection. The moshing and crowd surfing began in earnest, and Jason gave me many heads up so I could duck as surfers came over my head into the waiting arms of the security crew on the other side of the barricade.
Despite the insanity, I really enjoyed seeing All Time Low again, especially from a vantage point so close to the stage. The chemistry between guitarist Jack, singer Alex, drummer Rian, and bassist Zack makes for not only some awesome music but also some zany and highly entertaining stage antics. In addition to performing "Jasey Rae" and "Coffeeshop Soundtrack" from their EP Put Up or Shut Up and "Six Feet Under the Stars," "The Beach," "Poppin' Champagne," and "Dear Maria, Count Me In" from their full length album So Wrong, It's Right, they sang the Jimmy Eat World-esque debut single "Weightless" from the album Nothing Personal, due out next month.
Jack bridged the gap between stage and crowd twice for a little fan interaction. At one point, he ran around to the back of the crowd with his guitar, although I'm not sure how much he actually was able to play it. During the final song, he left his guitar on stage to visit with those of us in the front near the center. I helped hold him up while I snapped several pictures. I got a little of his sweat on me, but the best souvenir from the set was a pick that landed on Jason's arm. I thought Jack threw it out, but it has Alex's name on it.
By the time All Time Low finished their set, Jason almost had had enough of the crowd. He'd grown hot and frustrated, not to mention tired from fending off the pushing, moshing, crowd-surfing nuts. I, on the other hand, was happy in my little protective cocoon. The support from Jason and the barricade took tremendous weight off my feet, and the breeze blowing across the corridor between the barricade and stage kept me from overheating. I had just enough room to dance, which I did plenty of, along with singing, screaming and taking tons and tons of pictures. Although the late afternoon sun gave me a glare during Hey Monday, the lighting was perfect to get many excellent shots of the beautiful All Time Low boys.
Many other crowd members weren't nearly as comfortable as I and asked security to pull them out so they could get safely to the back of the tent. Security staff also hustled between acts to provide Dixie cups of water to the folks at the front of the crowd so no one got dehydrated. We were set with our own stash, though. Although two of our three bottles got kicked over during All Time Low, I caught them with my foot before too much spilled. We had plenty to hydrate ourselves as the crews tore down from one band and set up for the next.
Although All Time Low hyped the crowd to a crazy level, Metro Station pretty much killed the excitement. I enjoy their synth-poppy music, but most of the people around us weren't fans. (I know from the forum at absolutepunk.net that most people who like the other bands on the BNDPD tour do not like Metro Station at all.) I have to say that I didn't enjoy their set that much myself. Although I like all the songs they performed (self-titled debut album tracks "Wish We Were Older," "Control," "Kelsey," "Seventeen Forever," "Now That We're Done," and "Shake It," and T.I. cover "Dead and Gone"), their stage presence leaves a little to be desired. Guitarist/singer Mason swaggers about with unwarranted arrogance, while the other guitarist/singer Trace does anything and everything for attention, leaving him with little breath left to sing. Instead he speaks his lines in a slightly creepy voice. Furthermore, they're not really much to look at. Trace is actually a little repulsive.
Cobra Starship regained some of the energy lost on Metro Station, and then some. We had a fantastically fun dance party to debut hit "Bring It (Snakes on a Plane)" (which Hey Monday's Cassadee came out to help sing), Viva la Cobra tracks "The City Is at War," "Smile for the Paparazzi," "Kiss My Sass," and "Guilty Pleasure," and a single from their forthcoming album Hot Mess, "Pete Wentz is the Only Reason We're Famous." I think the adorable Gabe Saporta and company were a little taken aback by the crowd love, and they all performed their asses off in return. Honestly, theirs was the set of the night. In fact, it's the best set I've seen by any band in a very, very long time.
My only complaint is that keytarist Vicky-T and bassist Alex (my Cobra Starship crush) didn't visit our side of the stage, and my pictures of those two all suck because it had grown dark by the time they performed and my flash wasn't powerful enough to hit them on the opposite side.
Guitarist Ryland tossed out his water bottle at the end of the set, and Jason made an impressive catch. I dumped the water (love Ryland and all, but I'm not down with the backwash, especially with all the illnesses going around); I'll be keeping the bottle, though.
Cobra Starship had worked the crowd into an incredible frenzy, so the energy was at fever pitch by the time Fall Out Boy finally came out at 9:30. I don't think I can describe what I felt as the boys appeared before me. To be so close as they worked their musical magic far surpassed the experience of meeting them for 5 minutes in New Orleans. Unfortunately, we misjudged our stage placement and were directly in front of Joe rather than between him and Patrick, but I still was close enough to Patrick that I could see the roof of his mouth when he sang. It was wild.
I do love me some Joe, so it was fantastic to be able to make eye contact several times throughout the set. He looks so different with his hair cut shorter, but he still gave his characteristically frenzied performance, complete with plenty of his trademark Trohmania jumping spins.
We had a great view of Andy as well. That was the only time I've been able to actually see his face during a Fall Out Boy set, which was cool. He's so intense! Pete came over to visit us a few times. I hated myself for occasionally thinking, "Oh my God. Pete Wentz is right in front of me," but ass hole or not, the boy's a big deal.
Patrick wandered right in front of us just once, and I screamed my head off like the crazy fan girl I am. Other than that, I spent most of the set singing, dancing, and slightly fawning. I caught myself several times with my head propped on my hands, just staring at my boy adoringly. I've thought many a time as I've watched him play, whether live in concert or in videos, that he has the most amazing thighs. Being just a few yards away from them, I may have overheated slightly. The couple instances of eye contact made me giddy. And he sings so pretty!< / gush>
The euphoria of being so close to the boys I love, watching them perform the music I love, was off-set by the fact that the crowd surfing was out of control during several of the songs of FOB's set. Not only was it annoying and distracting to have to keep ducking out of the way of flying bodies, one of them injured me. About half-way through "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race," I heard Jason say heads up and ducked. I thought the guy was clear of me, but suddenly I felt a painful jolt against my right eye, and my glasses tumbled down my front.
I panicked for two reasons: one, my eye really hurt, and two, I wasn't sure I'd be able to retrieve my glasses from the bottom of the shaking sardine can. I got them and slapped them on my face, only to discover they'd been terribly warped. It took me the rest of that song and half of the next to bend my glasses back into position and wipe off all the smudges (which had tricked me into thinking my eye had gone terribly blurry). It was difficult to enjoy the rest of the set because I was afraid of being kicked again, especially during the last couple songs of the encore, when the crowd surfers came by one right after the other such that I barely heard any of the performance.
The setlist was identical to what they played in New Orleans, with one addition. During the encore, they did a pretty cool cover of OutKast's "Hey Ya!" between "Tiffany Blews" and "Dance, Dance." Cassadee still came out to help with "Sugar, We're Going Down," and Gabe still came out to sing his part of "What a Catch, Donnie," but All Time Low's Alex didn't make his typical appearance on "Grand Theft Autumn." I later discovered (via Twitter) that all of All Time Low (including their crew) had gone across the street to Progressive Field to take in the Indians/White Sox game right after their set.
Despite the frustration and injury, I had an amazing time at the show. It's an experience I'll never forget, nor will I likely repeat it. When I was in college, I routinely attended concerts and festivals where moshing and crowd-surfing were the norm, and I was quite used to coming out battered. It's been a long time since I've been in that sort of situation, however, and I think I've outgrown it.
Overall, the Believers Never Die Part Deux tour has consumed my last six weeks. I've been following the goings on via Twitter and experienced painful envy of the audience at the respective shows each night, all the while playing all of the bands' CDs ad nauseum. My three stops of the tour have provided an amazing opportunity to forget my troubles for a few hours while becoming completely absorbed in some amazing live music. Just three shows remain of the tour, and it is of course over for me, which is really sad.
To all the bands and their crew, I say Thks fr th Mmrs.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Nod your head to this
I used to love festivals. I've spent many a late spring and summer day at Lollapalooza, End Fest, Jazz Fest, Big Spring Jam and other such events, soaking in the sun and music. I don't know if I'm getting too old or if having spent my week battling a respiratory infection sapped my concert-going spirit, but I did not have the best time at the Shaeffer Eye Center Crawfish Boil in Birmingham Friday night.
This is the second time I've attended this event, the first time being a fantastic experience in 2006 that featured Better Than Ezra, Cowboy Mouth, Gin Blossoms, Live and Sister Hazel. It's expanded exponentially since then, outgrowing the downtown lot that the stage, one crawfish tent and handful of vendors used to occupy. It now takes up two city blocks with a VIP village of special vendors, two big crawfish tents, and a whole midway of vendors, games and rides for the common ticket-holder. (Still only one stage.)
Doors opened at 1:30 with the first act performing at 4. Because of Jason's work schedule and my lingering illness, we didn't arrive until after 8, well into LL Cool J's set. By then, the whole two blocks were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with drunken idiots. We navigated the crowd first to the port-a-potties, where Jason had a strange encounter with a girl so hammered she could barely form words, and then to find bottled water.
As folks pushed out from watching LL Cool J, we snaked our way to about the middle of the crowd in front of the stage. Before Jason Mraz even started, I was hot and miserable (because in Alabama, summer instantly starts when April turns to May). Because the crowd is forced to stand on a gravel parking lot, it took no time at all for my feet to grow uncomfortable. I didn't want to push forward any further because I didn't want to feel too closed in, but as far back as we were, I could barely see the stage. Once Mraz came on (20 minutes late), I basically wound up watching him on the big screens on each side of the stage.
The folks around us made it very difficult to enjoy the performance. Few people were paying attention, instead talking to each other loudly as if at a regular Friday night fraternity party. Drunk girls were stumbling around, bumping into people. An extremely tall guy next to me felt the need to stand on a folding chair that kept collapsing, causing several people to fall into me. The people next to Jason were basically having sex right there. The chick in front of me threw up and then passed out. When the guy in front of me stomped on my foot as he turned to high-five his friend, I had had enough and snaked my way back out to the open area between the stage and midway.
I spent a moment debating whether to just go home, but as unhappy as I was with the circumstances, it would be my only opportunity to see 311 this year. So, I stuck it out. We found a little ridge where we could hear well and see the screens. I couldn't see the stage at all, but I couldn't see it where we'd been anyway. From that point forward, I found the evening much more enjoyable.
Between Jason Mraz and our headliner, I was able to participate in one of my favorite pastimes: people watching. I saw a lot of people stumbling around dazed. I saw a couple more people vomit, including one guy who stood hunched over for several minutes. I saw a girl being carried out of the crowd unconscious, revived and taken away on a stretcher. I saw a couple have a pretty nasty argument. I saw a very large woman inhale two funnel cakes. I saw a guy try to pick up several different girls and leave alone.
I also saw a crazy array of attire. Although most of the men wore jeans or shorts and t-shirts, the women were dressed in so many impractical ways it would take an entire separate blog to discuss them all. Of course there were the usual whorelets in tiny shorts and halter tops, and plenty in what seems to be the new common concert attire (judging from the two FOB concerts last week): day-glo leggings and t-shirts. Surprisingly, there were a number of girls dressed up like they were going out to a fancy theatre, in spike heels and pretty dresses (many of them floor-length, picking up plenty of filth as they dragged on the ground). The most memorable outfit of the evening was on a girl running around in a thigh-length yellow sundress, cowboy boots and a tiara.
It was 10:25 before 311 finally took the stage. Being at the very back of the crowd, I can tell you that some folks were extremely into it, singing along and dancing, but a majority of the festival-goers seemed completely disinterested. Just as they had during Jason Mraz, a lot of people continued their loud conversations as if there wasn't a concert going on. People filtered out of the venue throughout the set, such that by the time 311 finished, there was maybe 1/3 the number of people that had been there when we arrived. It was so bizarre to watch one guy rocking out, bobbing his head and flailing his arms while stomping to the beat, as the people next to him packed up their folding chairs and gave hugs to their companions as if departing a picnic, right in the middle of one of 311's best songs. An upside to the partial exodus was that by the end of the set, I could actually see the band. [As an aside, one of the people that really seemed to enjoy the show was a little baby of maybe six months old that spent the set on his dad's hip next to me, smiling and dancing the whole time.]
The boys put on a characteristically energetic show, complete with lots of faint-worthy gyrations by the gorgeous Nick Hexum (who was sporting a crazy Mohawk do). There was not a lot of banter or crowd interaction; just one song after the next. No effects, no frills. They sounded great, but I couldn't get into it as much as I have the 17 other times I've seen them. Being tired/sick combined with the strange atmosphere kind of ruined it for me.
Setlist:
Beautiful Disaster
Freeze Time
All Mixed Up
You Wouldn't Believe
Love Song (Cure cover)
Applied Science
Prisoner
Hey You
Come Original
Beyond the Gray Sky
What Was I Thinking
Amber
Down
Encore:
Creatures (For a While)
Feels So Good
This is the second time I've attended this event, the first time being a fantastic experience in 2006 that featured Better Than Ezra, Cowboy Mouth, Gin Blossoms, Live and Sister Hazel. It's expanded exponentially since then, outgrowing the downtown lot that the stage, one crawfish tent and handful of vendors used to occupy. It now takes up two city blocks with a VIP village of special vendors, two big crawfish tents, and a whole midway of vendors, games and rides for the common ticket-holder. (Still only one stage.)
Doors opened at 1:30 with the first act performing at 4. Because of Jason's work schedule and my lingering illness, we didn't arrive until after 8, well into LL Cool J's set. By then, the whole two blocks were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with drunken idiots. We navigated the crowd first to the port-a-potties, where Jason had a strange encounter with a girl so hammered she could barely form words, and then to find bottled water.
As folks pushed out from watching LL Cool J, we snaked our way to about the middle of the crowd in front of the stage. Before Jason Mraz even started, I was hot and miserable (because in Alabama, summer instantly starts when April turns to May). Because the crowd is forced to stand on a gravel parking lot, it took no time at all for my feet to grow uncomfortable. I didn't want to push forward any further because I didn't want to feel too closed in, but as far back as we were, I could barely see the stage. Once Mraz came on (20 minutes late), I basically wound up watching him on the big screens on each side of the stage.
The folks around us made it very difficult to enjoy the performance. Few people were paying attention, instead talking to each other loudly as if at a regular Friday night fraternity party. Drunk girls were stumbling around, bumping into people. An extremely tall guy next to me felt the need to stand on a folding chair that kept collapsing, causing several people to fall into me. The people next to Jason were basically having sex right there. The chick in front of me threw up and then passed out. When the guy in front of me stomped on my foot as he turned to high-five his friend, I had had enough and snaked my way back out to the open area between the stage and midway.
I spent a moment debating whether to just go home, but as unhappy as I was with the circumstances, it would be my only opportunity to see 311 this year. So, I stuck it out. We found a little ridge where we could hear well and see the screens. I couldn't see the stage at all, but I couldn't see it where we'd been anyway. From that point forward, I found the evening much more enjoyable.
Between Jason Mraz and our headliner, I was able to participate in one of my favorite pastimes: people watching. I saw a lot of people stumbling around dazed. I saw a couple more people vomit, including one guy who stood hunched over for several minutes. I saw a girl being carried out of the crowd unconscious, revived and taken away on a stretcher. I saw a couple have a pretty nasty argument. I saw a very large woman inhale two funnel cakes. I saw a guy try to pick up several different girls and leave alone.
I also saw a crazy array of attire. Although most of the men wore jeans or shorts and t-shirts, the women were dressed in so many impractical ways it would take an entire separate blog to discuss them all. Of course there were the usual whorelets in tiny shorts and halter tops, and plenty in what seems to be the new common concert attire (judging from the two FOB concerts last week): day-glo leggings and t-shirts. Surprisingly, there were a number of girls dressed up like they were going out to a fancy theatre, in spike heels and pretty dresses (many of them floor-length, picking up plenty of filth as they dragged on the ground). The most memorable outfit of the evening was on a girl running around in a thigh-length yellow sundress, cowboy boots and a tiara.
It was 10:25 before 311 finally took the stage. Being at the very back of the crowd, I can tell you that some folks were extremely into it, singing along and dancing, but a majority of the festival-goers seemed completely disinterested. Just as they had during Jason Mraz, a lot of people continued their loud conversations as if there wasn't a concert going on. People filtered out of the venue throughout the set, such that by the time 311 finished, there was maybe 1/3 the number of people that had been there when we arrived. It was so bizarre to watch one guy rocking out, bobbing his head and flailing his arms while stomping to the beat, as the people next to him packed up their folding chairs and gave hugs to their companions as if departing a picnic, right in the middle of one of 311's best songs. An upside to the partial exodus was that by the end of the set, I could actually see the band. [As an aside, one of the people that really seemed to enjoy the show was a little baby of maybe six months old that spent the set on his dad's hip next to me, smiling and dancing the whole time.]
The boys put on a characteristically energetic show, complete with lots of faint-worthy gyrations by the gorgeous Nick Hexum (who was sporting a crazy Mohawk do). There was not a lot of banter or crowd interaction; just one song after the next. No effects, no frills. They sounded great, but I couldn't get into it as much as I have the 17 other times I've seen them. Being tired/sick combined with the strange atmosphere kind of ruined it for me.
Setlist:
Beautiful Disaster
Freeze Time
All Mixed Up
You Wouldn't Believe
Love Song (Cure cover)
Applied Science
Prisoner
Hey You
Come Original
Beyond the Gray Sky
What Was I Thinking
Amber
Down
Encore:
Creatures (For a While)
Feels So Good
Friday, April 24, 2009
Stop burning bridges, and drive off of them
Whereas my experience with the New Orleans Believers Never Die Part Deux show Sunday was 100 percent as-if-out-of-a-dream perfection, my Atlanta experience was frustrating as hell.
My friend Jason drove over from Mississippi and met me at my apartment shortly after I arrived home from teaching class Thursday afternoon. We got on the road as quickly as possible and had a lovely road trip for the first few hours, listening to music and chatting. As soon as we got to Atlanta, the Interstate became a parking lot. It took us 90 minutes from that point in maddening bumper-to-bumper traffic to get to the arena.
The tickets said 7 p.m., and we arrived at the venue at 7:20, so I figured we'd miss Hey Monday but make it to our seats just in time to see whoever was playing next. When we got in, though, I heard the unmistakable sound of All Time Low (my favorite of the four opening acts) emitting from the house. I was crushed. Being that I absolutely had to pee, I beelined for the ladies' room, where I learned that Hey Monday had come on at 6:30 and ATL at 7, so their set was nearly finished.
We opted to grab a quick bite before heading to our seats. Gwinnett Arena is a fabulous, sparkling facility with great concessions. I wound up with a pretty delicious bowl of nachos - and by nachos I mean fresh chips, black beans, tomatoes and good queso sauce, not the usual stale chips and orange goop one typically finds at such establishments.
Our cushy seats were four rows from the floor a section over from the stage (pretty much directly across from where our seats were in New Orleans Sunday). We hadn't been sitting long before Cobra Starship came out. There was nothing appreciably different about their set from when I saw them a few days earlier and danced my ass off, but I couldn't get into it for a while. I was just heartbroken over missing ATL and exhausted from the ridiculous drive. I perked up some when they played "Snakes on a Plane" (which Hey Monday's Cassadee came out to sing with them) and was really ready to dance and have fun by the time they played their set closer, "Guilty Pleasure." Drummer Nate Navarro is from Atlanta, so his family was there watching from the wings of the stage.
Metro Station also performed the same set they did in New Orleans, banter and all. I learned last night that lead singer Trace Cyrus is the son of the infamous Billy Ray (which makes him Miley/Hannah Montana's brother). Wonder who the favorite child in that family is...
During Metro Station's set, this couple came and stood right in front of us, blocking our view while they tried to figure out where their seats were. When the two girls next to me decided to go for a potty break, the couple sat in their seats, only to have to move when the girls came back. They wound up a little down the row and disappeared a few songs into Fall Out Boy's set, never to return. Weird.
As the crew set up for FOB, we enjoyed quite a dance-off in the stands. Guys were shaking it like nobody's business, stripping their shirts off. The crowd ate it up.
Finally, it was time for Fall Out Boy. I felt a lot mellower when the lights dimmed than I had in New Orleans. But, after the whole riot opener, when the boys finally appeared, I felt a little skip in my heart.
During the first four songs in New Orleans, the vibe onstage was fairly laid-back. I contributed it to the suit "characters" then, but they rocked out on those numbers pretty hard last night.
The set was identical, except instead of playing "Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes" (the song that made me so excited Sunday), they played "'tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today." It seems they're switching out which song they play off Take This to Your Grave, other than the standards "Grand Theft Autumn" and "Saturday." I found it funny that the song I made my concert countdown song of the day on Facebook from that album each week was the one they played at that show. (Purely coincidence, of course, but cool nonetheless.) Just as Patron Saint made my night Sunday, Mick made it last night.
The banter was pretty similar. Obviously, the happy birthday bit and ensuing Shamwow comment were missing. At that point in the show, Justin came out and gave Pete a picture to sign. Pete told us that they had gotten a little camera in Japan that immediately prints out the picture (a digital version of the old Polaroid, I imagine), and that Justin had been taking photos all night that the band was signing. He said that if we saw Justin, we should ask him for one.
Pete also changed up his introduction to the "Beat It" cover a little bit. He told us there were three things that were great about 2009 so far: that "fucking cowboy" was out of the White House, Blink-182 reunited, and Michael Jackson was dancing again. The only other real difference in the performance was that Pete went up into the stands during the last chorus of "America's Suitehearts."
Patrick spoke a little bit. Alex from All Time Low had come out to harmonize with Patrick on the final chorus of Grand Theft Autumn, and as he left the stage, Pete told the crowd to give it up for him. When Alex "woo-hooed" himself, Patrick called him out on it, with an adorable little giggle.
Sitting on the opposite side of the stage and maybe a few seats further away from it provided a much better vantage point than what we had Sunday, giving me a great view of Joe, Patrick and Andy (whereas Pete and Patrick were the only ones of whom we had a good view Sunday).
Another major difference that affected my consumption of the show was that my Jason wasn't with me. Although I missed him terribly, my "hormonal" reaction to the boys (especially Patrick - yes, the silly girl crush is back) was much more pronounced. At one point I texted to my concert-buddy Jason (because it was too loud to tell him orally) that Patrick has the best thighs. Yowza.
Although the over-all experience was not as good as in New Orleans, I would say that I enjoyed Fall Out Boy's set just as much if not more. I don't know how I'll be able to wait three more weeks to see them again.
My friend Jason drove over from Mississippi and met me at my apartment shortly after I arrived home from teaching class Thursday afternoon. We got on the road as quickly as possible and had a lovely road trip for the first few hours, listening to music and chatting. As soon as we got to Atlanta, the Interstate became a parking lot. It took us 90 minutes from that point in maddening bumper-to-bumper traffic to get to the arena.
The tickets said 7 p.m., and we arrived at the venue at 7:20, so I figured we'd miss Hey Monday but make it to our seats just in time to see whoever was playing next. When we got in, though, I heard the unmistakable sound of All Time Low (my favorite of the four opening acts) emitting from the house. I was crushed. Being that I absolutely had to pee, I beelined for the ladies' room, where I learned that Hey Monday had come on at 6:30 and ATL at 7, so their set was nearly finished.
We opted to grab a quick bite before heading to our seats. Gwinnett Arena is a fabulous, sparkling facility with great concessions. I wound up with a pretty delicious bowl of nachos - and by nachos I mean fresh chips, black beans, tomatoes and good queso sauce, not the usual stale chips and orange goop one typically finds at such establishments.
Our cushy seats were four rows from the floor a section over from the stage (pretty much directly across from where our seats were in New Orleans Sunday). We hadn't been sitting long before Cobra Starship came out. There was nothing appreciably different about their set from when I saw them a few days earlier and danced my ass off, but I couldn't get into it for a while. I was just heartbroken over missing ATL and exhausted from the ridiculous drive. I perked up some when they played "Snakes on a Plane" (which Hey Monday's Cassadee came out to sing with them) and was really ready to dance and have fun by the time they played their set closer, "Guilty Pleasure." Drummer Nate Navarro is from Atlanta, so his family was there watching from the wings of the stage.
Metro Station also performed the same set they did in New Orleans, banter and all. I learned last night that lead singer Trace Cyrus is the son of the infamous Billy Ray (which makes him Miley/Hannah Montana's brother). Wonder who the favorite child in that family is...
During Metro Station's set, this couple came and stood right in front of us, blocking our view while they tried to figure out where their seats were. When the two girls next to me decided to go for a potty break, the couple sat in their seats, only to have to move when the girls came back. They wound up a little down the row and disappeared a few songs into Fall Out Boy's set, never to return. Weird.
As the crew set up for FOB, we enjoyed quite a dance-off in the stands. Guys were shaking it like nobody's business, stripping their shirts off. The crowd ate it up.
Finally, it was time for Fall Out Boy. I felt a lot mellower when the lights dimmed than I had in New Orleans. But, after the whole riot opener, when the boys finally appeared, I felt a little skip in my heart.
During the first four songs in New Orleans, the vibe onstage was fairly laid-back. I contributed it to the suit "characters" then, but they rocked out on those numbers pretty hard last night.
The set was identical, except instead of playing "Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes" (the song that made me so excited Sunday), they played "'tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today." It seems they're switching out which song they play off Take This to Your Grave, other than the standards "Grand Theft Autumn" and "Saturday." I found it funny that the song I made my concert countdown song of the day on Facebook from that album each week was the one they played at that show. (Purely coincidence, of course, but cool nonetheless.) Just as Patron Saint made my night Sunday, Mick made it last night.
The banter was pretty similar. Obviously, the happy birthday bit and ensuing Shamwow comment were missing. At that point in the show, Justin came out and gave Pete a picture to sign. Pete told us that they had gotten a little camera in Japan that immediately prints out the picture (a digital version of the old Polaroid, I imagine), and that Justin had been taking photos all night that the band was signing. He said that if we saw Justin, we should ask him for one.
Pete also changed up his introduction to the "Beat It" cover a little bit. He told us there were three things that were great about 2009 so far: that "fucking cowboy" was out of the White House, Blink-182 reunited, and Michael Jackson was dancing again. The only other real difference in the performance was that Pete went up into the stands during the last chorus of "America's Suitehearts."
Patrick spoke a little bit. Alex from All Time Low had come out to harmonize with Patrick on the final chorus of Grand Theft Autumn, and as he left the stage, Pete told the crowd to give it up for him. When Alex "woo-hooed" himself, Patrick called him out on it, with an adorable little giggle.
Sitting on the opposite side of the stage and maybe a few seats further away from it provided a much better vantage point than what we had Sunday, giving me a great view of Joe, Patrick and Andy (whereas Pete and Patrick were the only ones of whom we had a good view Sunday).
Another major difference that affected my consumption of the show was that my Jason wasn't with me. Although I missed him terribly, my "hormonal" reaction to the boys (especially Patrick - yes, the silly girl crush is back) was much more pronounced. At one point I texted to my concert-buddy Jason (because it was too loud to tell him orally) that Patrick has the best thighs. Yowza.
Although the over-all experience was not as good as in New Orleans, I would say that I enjoyed Fall Out Boy's set just as much if not more. I don't know how I'll be able to wait three more weeks to see them again.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Hate me baby, maybe I'm a piece of art (Fall Out Boy review, Part Deux)
As long as I've been excited for Sunday's Fall Out Boy show, I would have thought that waiting another 3 hours, through four opening acts and all the intervening tear down/set up, would be agonizing. Fortunately, the four bands were incredible.
So as to avoid a super-lengthy review, I shan't go into much detail on each band. The audience was not terribly into Hey Monday, although they gave an energetic and fun 20-minute performance consisting entirely of songs I'd heard on their MySpace. The other bands attracted a much more rousing crowd reaction (except when Pete came out to sing/scream on one of Hey Monday's songs). The folks in the stands remained firmly planted in their seats for Hey Monday, but many of them rose and danced for the other acts.
Metro Station, All Time Low and Cobra Starship each performed 30-35 minutes. The synth-poppy Metro Station was most memorable for frontman Trace's wild guitar slinging and jumps from atop the pink drum kit. All Time Low entertained the crowd not only with their pop-punk tunes but also with witty banter, all delivered in front of equipment boxes on which the words "Giant Douche" were emblazoned. Jack (ATL's guitarist) also made his way to the back of the crowd, where concert-goers snapped pictures of themselves with him while he played.
As each successive opening act performed, their respective crews peeled off another layer of equipment from the stage. By the time Cobra Starship came on, there was enough room for columns of flashing light - the first real "effects" we enjoyed over the course of the show.
While Fall Out Boy's crew arranged the stage for our long-anticipated headliner, a couple kids in the next section entertained the nearby crowd with some raunchy booty dancing in the aisle. The way the audience went wild, you would have thought the band had come out.
Screens in several sections framed the drum riser on the right, left, and bottom, and images were projected on them during several songs on FOB's set list. After the lights dimmed, the screens displayed riot footage interspersed with images of the boys running from backstage, wearing suits. A line of red police car lights spun on stage as sirens blared.
When the boys finally came out wearing those suits (Patrick also sported a goofy blond wig and Pete, a cosmetic "black eye"), they were accompanied by four big guys in SWAT gear, two of whom held drums which they beat to help Andy out with the percussive intro of "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes."
Pete explained after the opening tune that their show was intended to provide a commentary on the power and wealth of corporate America. Political rants dominated his banter through most of the show, but particularly between songs for the first quarter of the set while the guys remained in their suits. (Actually, Andy shed his blazer pretty quickly. It was weird to see him wearing clothes at all; he typically drums only in shorts.) The dominant message, aside from corporate greed, was about the misdirection of American attention on frivolity such as celebrity news rather than things that really matter (such as conditions in Sri Lanka and the Congo).
Pete actually was uncharacteristically mellow and serious throughout the show, although he did lighten up a bit after the costume change, which came after the fourth song of the set. During the costume change, the screens alternately displayed a half-naked Pete changing and having make-up applied and the other three band members already in their new duds, snacking and checking their watches.
The boys re-emerged in dark pants/shirts and the cool bomber jackets they debuted when they performed on Leno (Andy and Joe both shed theirs after the fifth song). Patrick had on his signature hat and, surprisingly, his glasses. Although Pete didn't do a whole lot of his typical acrobatics, Joe's hair flipping and crazy spins provided plenty of frenetic activity. Joe visited our side of the stage several times, and Patrick (who remains in the center most of the time) even came over for a couple (very short) visits.
Between-song banter after the costume change included a birthday tribute to FOB videographer Justin. Patrick led a "Happy Birthday" singalong, and a cake was hurled in the general vicinity of Justin's face (though most of it ended up on the stage). As crew attempted to clean it up with towels, Pete suggested that a Shamwow would accomplish the task much easier.
Toward the end of the set, Pete had us do "the wave." Another bit of memorable banter occurred when Pete introduced "She's My Winona" with a "Fuck you" at Johnny Depp (who dated Winona Ryder long ago).
Members of the opening bands re-appeared on stage for several of the songs on FOB's set. Hey Monday's Cassadee came out to sing the final chorus of "Sugar, We're Going Down," and Mike took Pete's bass for him at the end of Saturday so Pete could get into the crowd and scream the lyrics. Gabe from Cobra Starship came out to sing on "What a Catch, Donnie." One of the guys (I don't remember who) came out to scream with Pete at the end of "I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy...", and Alex from All Time Low came out to sing at the end of "Grand Theft Autumn."
Having kept an eye on the set lists for the earlier shows of the tour, I expected most of the songs I heard. However, there were a couple surprises.
"Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes" is my favorite song on Take This to Your Grave. It is in fact the song that really hit me in the gut and told me that FOB was something special and a band to which I could truly relate. I had not seen it on the set lists for the first several shows of this tour (I hadn't looked at any for the past week or so, when they started playing it), so I didn't at all expect to hear it. When Patrick started singing it, I put both hands on my head as if to hold myself down and prevent myself from shooting to the moon. I then smacked Jason on the shoulder (fairly hard, apparently) and squealed, "I can't believe they're playing this!" I rocked out harder to that song than any other on the set list.
"Tiffany Blews" also was a pleasant surprise, being my favorite song on Folie a Deux (for this week anyway). Although I've outgrown my silly girl crush on Patrick...well, let's just say I may have needed to change my panties after watching/hearing him sing this one live.
Our seats provided an excellent view of all the festivities. My prior seats at FOB shows have been so far away that the guys looked like little dolls, but we were so close this time that I could see facial expressions, sweat beading, spit flying... It was worth every penny a million times over.
From Hey Monday's entrance to Fall Out Boy's exit, the entire show lasted 4 1/2 hours. By the time it ended, my voice was absolutely gone, my hair a sweaty mess, my entire body sore from dancing. Jason probably wanted to staple my mouth shut as much as I babbled about how amazing it was (though I couldn't quite form complete sentences). The euphoria lasted well into the next day. I even wondered a little if it was all a dream, but I have my autographed posters and the pics on Jason's DSi as proof (because I couldn't have my camera in the meet & greet, I left it in the hotel room).
Setlist:
Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes
Thriller
A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me
Sugar, We're Going Down
[Costume change]
This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race
I Don't Care
Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet
I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy, and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me
Grand Theft Autumn
What a Catch, Donnie
[Happy Birthday to Justin]
(Coffee's for Closers)
She's My Winona
Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes
Beat It (Michael Jackson cover)
America's Suitehearts
Encore:
Thnks fr th Mmrs
Tiffany Blews
Dance, Dance
Saturday
So as to avoid a super-lengthy review, I shan't go into much detail on each band. The audience was not terribly into Hey Monday, although they gave an energetic and fun 20-minute performance consisting entirely of songs I'd heard on their MySpace. The other bands attracted a much more rousing crowd reaction (except when Pete came out to sing/scream on one of Hey Monday's songs). The folks in the stands remained firmly planted in their seats for Hey Monday, but many of them rose and danced for the other acts.
Metro Station, All Time Low and Cobra Starship each performed 30-35 minutes. The synth-poppy Metro Station was most memorable for frontman Trace's wild guitar slinging and jumps from atop the pink drum kit. All Time Low entertained the crowd not only with their pop-punk tunes but also with witty banter, all delivered in front of equipment boxes on which the words "Giant Douche" were emblazoned. Jack (ATL's guitarist) also made his way to the back of the crowd, where concert-goers snapped pictures of themselves with him while he played.
As each successive opening act performed, their respective crews peeled off another layer of equipment from the stage. By the time Cobra Starship came on, there was enough room for columns of flashing light - the first real "effects" we enjoyed over the course of the show.
While Fall Out Boy's crew arranged the stage for our long-anticipated headliner, a couple kids in the next section entertained the nearby crowd with some raunchy booty dancing in the aisle. The way the audience went wild, you would have thought the band had come out.
Screens in several sections framed the drum riser on the right, left, and bottom, and images were projected on them during several songs on FOB's set list. After the lights dimmed, the screens displayed riot footage interspersed with images of the boys running from backstage, wearing suits. A line of red police car lights spun on stage as sirens blared.
When the boys finally came out wearing those suits (Patrick also sported a goofy blond wig and Pete, a cosmetic "black eye"), they were accompanied by four big guys in SWAT gear, two of whom held drums which they beat to help Andy out with the percussive intro of "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes."
Pete explained after the opening tune that their show was intended to provide a commentary on the power and wealth of corporate America. Political rants dominated his banter through most of the show, but particularly between songs for the first quarter of the set while the guys remained in their suits. (Actually, Andy shed his blazer pretty quickly. It was weird to see him wearing clothes at all; he typically drums only in shorts.) The dominant message, aside from corporate greed, was about the misdirection of American attention on frivolity such as celebrity news rather than things that really matter (such as conditions in Sri Lanka and the Congo).
Pete actually was uncharacteristically mellow and serious throughout the show, although he did lighten up a bit after the costume change, which came after the fourth song of the set. During the costume change, the screens alternately displayed a half-naked Pete changing and having make-up applied and the other three band members already in their new duds, snacking and checking their watches.
The boys re-emerged in dark pants/shirts and the cool bomber jackets they debuted when they performed on Leno (Andy and Joe both shed theirs after the fifth song). Patrick had on his signature hat and, surprisingly, his glasses. Although Pete didn't do a whole lot of his typical acrobatics, Joe's hair flipping and crazy spins provided plenty of frenetic activity. Joe visited our side of the stage several times, and Patrick (who remains in the center most of the time) even came over for a couple (very short) visits.
Between-song banter after the costume change included a birthday tribute to FOB videographer Justin. Patrick led a "Happy Birthday" singalong, and a cake was hurled in the general vicinity of Justin's face (though most of it ended up on the stage). As crew attempted to clean it up with towels, Pete suggested that a Shamwow would accomplish the task much easier.
Toward the end of the set, Pete had us do "the wave." Another bit of memorable banter occurred when Pete introduced "She's My Winona" with a "Fuck you" at Johnny Depp (who dated Winona Ryder long ago).
Members of the opening bands re-appeared on stage for several of the songs on FOB's set. Hey Monday's Cassadee came out to sing the final chorus of "Sugar, We're Going Down," and Mike took Pete's bass for him at the end of Saturday so Pete could get into the crowd and scream the lyrics. Gabe from Cobra Starship came out to sing on "What a Catch, Donnie." One of the guys (I don't remember who) came out to scream with Pete at the end of "I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy...", and Alex from All Time Low came out to sing at the end of "Grand Theft Autumn."
Having kept an eye on the set lists for the earlier shows of the tour, I expected most of the songs I heard. However, there were a couple surprises.
"Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes" is my favorite song on Take This to Your Grave. It is in fact the song that really hit me in the gut and told me that FOB was something special and a band to which I could truly relate. I had not seen it on the set lists for the first several shows of this tour (I hadn't looked at any for the past week or so, when they started playing it), so I didn't at all expect to hear it. When Patrick started singing it, I put both hands on my head as if to hold myself down and prevent myself from shooting to the moon. I then smacked Jason on the shoulder (fairly hard, apparently) and squealed, "I can't believe they're playing this!" I rocked out harder to that song than any other on the set list.
"Tiffany Blews" also was a pleasant surprise, being my favorite song on Folie a Deux (for this week anyway). Although I've outgrown my silly girl crush on Patrick...well, let's just say I may have needed to change my panties after watching/hearing him sing this one live.
Our seats provided an excellent view of all the festivities. My prior seats at FOB shows have been so far away that the guys looked like little dolls, but we were so close this time that I could see facial expressions, sweat beading, spit flying... It was worth every penny a million times over.
From Hey Monday's entrance to Fall Out Boy's exit, the entire show lasted 4 1/2 hours. By the time it ended, my voice was absolutely gone, my hair a sweaty mess, my entire body sore from dancing. Jason probably wanted to staple my mouth shut as much as I babbled about how amazing it was (though I couldn't quite form complete sentences). The euphoria lasted well into the next day. I even wondered a little if it was all a dream, but I have my autographed posters and the pics on Jason's DSi as proof (because I couldn't have my camera in the meet & greet, I left it in the hotel room).
Setlist:
Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes
Thriller
A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me
Sugar, We're Going Down
[Costume change]
This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race
I Don't Care
Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet
I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy, and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me
Grand Theft Autumn
What a Catch, Donnie
[Happy Birthday to Justin]
(Coffee's for Closers)
She's My Winona
Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes
Beat It (Michael Jackson cover)
America's Suitehearts
Encore:
Thnks fr th Mmrs
Tiffany Blews
Dance, Dance
Saturday
Monday, April 20, 2009
Meet market (Fall Out Boy review, part 1)
Four years ago, a friend with whom I worked at Hoole special collections library played a song for me by a little pop-punk band called Fall Out Boy, and I was hooked. I've followed them religiously since then, and though they've certainly found their way onto my concert schedule before, I'd never met them. Needless to say, when the opportunity presented itself to attend a meet & greet prior to their concert in New Orleans Sunday, I jumped at the chance.
Jason and I arrived at UNO's Lakefront Arena just before 3:30, an hour before the email providing meet & greet details said we needed to be there. The clueless arena staff caused chaos and frustration, but eventually everyone figured out that we needed to wait in one line to get our wristbands, then form another for the meet & greet. I left Jason waiting in the meet & greet spot while I went off to get our wristbands. The line moved very slowly, thanks, again, to the clueless arena staff.
Jason overheard a girl talking to her friends and learned that although her friends had passes to meet two of the opening acts (Metro Station and All Time Low), the girl had no meet & greet privileges. I had two extra, so Jason offered one to her. Our new friend turned out to be an 18-year-old high school student from Metarie. She was quite impressed with our level of dedication to the band (driving 4+ hours to see them). She also guessed that we were 25, which endeared her to me.
After waiting a total of an hour and 45 minutes from the time we arrived until the band came out, the entire meet & greet was highly structured and extremely rushed. The boys sat at a table while we came by with items to have signed. We were to slide our items to each band member without lingering and then get back in line. Once everyone had their memorabilia autographed, we were divided into groups of 6-8 fans for group pictures with the band, which will be posted on a Web site later (probably in a couple weeks). We were allowed to take no photos of our own.
Despite the rigid rules, Jason and I had some interaction with three of the guys. As we approached the table, Patrick said, "Hey, what's up!" He complimented Jason's Marvel comics shirt and said it was chaotic.
Next up was Andy. I chat with him quite a bit on Twitter, but he has 8,500 followers and answers as many of them as he can when they talk to him. So, I didn't figure he'd actually recognize me, even when I introduced myself. To my great delight, he smiled and said, "I know you!" We had a little chat about baseball, and he too complimented Jason's t-shirt before we moved on to Joe. Joe and I basically just exchanged hellos, but he and Jason had a short chat (something about Joe drinking coffee to stay awake and of course liking Jason's shirt). Pete didn't even look at us; just signed our items as we passed by.
I'd behaved rather well up to that point. I had a mere moment of visible excitement when we got close enough to the table that I could have reached out and touched Patrick, but otherwise, I hadn't gone all crazy fan girl. The second we walked away from the table, though, I started shaking.
We were through the line again in mere moments, and I managed to calm myself by the time we got back to the guys. Our group of three was combined with the group of four behind us in line for the photo. I rushed right to Andy's side, and Jason stood between Joe and me. The photographer said, "Ladies, squeeze in," and Jason said, "What about me?" Joe said something, which Jason couldn't entirely decipher, but he thinks he said, "He's cool." (These things happen so fast!)
Just like that, it was over, and we were rushed out into the house. If I hadn't had the autographed posters in my hand, I wouldn't have believed it actually happened.
We made our way through the throngs of squealing kids heading out to the floor and found our seats in the second row of the stands rimming the floor, just one section over from the stage. A mother and daughter sat behind us, and the daughter was distraught that she was not on the floor with her friends. Apparently, the friends hadn't wanted to pay for the meet & greet (that was an option, at $150 per person), so they just bought floor tickets. When the girl's mom bought her the meet & greet package, she didn't realize the tickets were not general admission. So, we came to the rescue again. It just so happened we had a pair of floor tickets we weren't using, so we let her have them. She was eternally grateful.
The stage seemed massive but cluttered with equipment for the five bands we were about to see. A banner for Hey Monday hung in back.
We had to wait 45 minutes before the first opener. While Jason played on his DSi, I amused myself people-watching and tweeting from my phone. What happened after the lights dimmed? Stay tuned. Part II is forthcoming.
Jason and I arrived at UNO's Lakefront Arena just before 3:30, an hour before the email providing meet & greet details said we needed to be there. The clueless arena staff caused chaos and frustration, but eventually everyone figured out that we needed to wait in one line to get our wristbands, then form another for the meet & greet. I left Jason waiting in the meet & greet spot while I went off to get our wristbands. The line moved very slowly, thanks, again, to the clueless arena staff.
Jason overheard a girl talking to her friends and learned that although her friends had passes to meet two of the opening acts (Metro Station and All Time Low), the girl had no meet & greet privileges. I had two extra, so Jason offered one to her. Our new friend turned out to be an 18-year-old high school student from Metarie. She was quite impressed with our level of dedication to the band (driving 4+ hours to see them). She also guessed that we were 25, which endeared her to me.
After waiting a total of an hour and 45 minutes from the time we arrived until the band came out, the entire meet & greet was highly structured and extremely rushed. The boys sat at a table while we came by with items to have signed. We were to slide our items to each band member without lingering and then get back in line. Once everyone had their memorabilia autographed, we were divided into groups of 6-8 fans for group pictures with the band, which will be posted on a Web site later (probably in a couple weeks). We were allowed to take no photos of our own.
Despite the rigid rules, Jason and I had some interaction with three of the guys. As we approached the table, Patrick said, "Hey, what's up!" He complimented Jason's Marvel comics shirt and said it was chaotic.
Next up was Andy. I chat with him quite a bit on Twitter, but he has 8,500 followers and answers as many of them as he can when they talk to him. So, I didn't figure he'd actually recognize me, even when I introduced myself. To my great delight, he smiled and said, "I know you!" We had a little chat about baseball, and he too complimented Jason's t-shirt before we moved on to Joe. Joe and I basically just exchanged hellos, but he and Jason had a short chat (something about Joe drinking coffee to stay awake and of course liking Jason's shirt). Pete didn't even look at us; just signed our items as we passed by.
I'd behaved rather well up to that point. I had a mere moment of visible excitement when we got close enough to the table that I could have reached out and touched Patrick, but otherwise, I hadn't gone all crazy fan girl. The second we walked away from the table, though, I started shaking.
We were through the line again in mere moments, and I managed to calm myself by the time we got back to the guys. Our group of three was combined with the group of four behind us in line for the photo. I rushed right to Andy's side, and Jason stood between Joe and me. The photographer said, "Ladies, squeeze in," and Jason said, "What about me?" Joe said something, which Jason couldn't entirely decipher, but he thinks he said, "He's cool." (These things happen so fast!)
Just like that, it was over, and we were rushed out into the house. If I hadn't had the autographed posters in my hand, I wouldn't have believed it actually happened.
We made our way through the throngs of squealing kids heading out to the floor and found our seats in the second row of the stands rimming the floor, just one section over from the stage. A mother and daughter sat behind us, and the daughter was distraught that she was not on the floor with her friends. Apparently, the friends hadn't wanted to pay for the meet & greet (that was an option, at $150 per person), so they just bought floor tickets. When the girl's mom bought her the meet & greet package, she didn't realize the tickets were not general admission. So, we came to the rescue again. It just so happened we had a pair of floor tickets we weren't using, so we let her have them. She was eternally grateful.
The stage seemed massive but cluttered with equipment for the five bands we were about to see. A banner for Hey Monday hung in back.
We had to wait 45 minutes before the first opener. While Jason played on his DSi, I amused myself people-watching and tweeting from my phone. What happened after the lights dimmed? Stay tuned. Part II is forthcoming.
Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
When traveling from Tuscaloosa, the indications that one is growing closer to New Orleans begin as early as Meridian, Mississippi, when I-20/59 splits. With each successive sign, my heart swells until finally, I crest that one hill on I-10 West and see that beautiful skyline, and the city welcomes me home.
I got that feeling for the first time in 23 months on Friday as we drove in for a long weekend visit. That evening, I got a similar feeling when we went to see Paul Sanchez perform, also for the first time in 23 months.
We typically stood in front of Paul when he was with Cowboy Mouth, and he always recognized us, no matter how long it had been since our last show - like reuniting with an old friend. Friday we went to say hello before his solo acoustic set at Clever Wine Bar, and he said he remembered us. He also gave Jason a shout out during the set, thanking him for his support over the years. After the set, when I relayed a greeting from our friend Healey, he asked about her and her boyfriend Mike (though I'd not mentioned Mike at all).
That kind of memory, regard and appreciation for his fans is one reason that we so enjoy seeing Paul, but certainly not the only one. His music soothes the soul, partially because, as my friend Aura pointed out Friday night, his voice is "smooth like butter."
Friday's venue was quite unique. The wine bar is one of many businesses converted from an old cannery. Despite the exposed ventilation and pipes, the location is quite chic and cozy. When we arrived, all of the bar stools and the tables closest to the small corner stage were taken. We picked a large round table near the rear of the bar, which had its pros and cons. Although the standing crowd that filled the bar by the middle of the set obscured our view of the stage, the cushy chairs around the table provided a relaxing place to enjoy our beverages and the music.
Although scheduled to play only from 8-10 p.m., neither Paul nor the crowd was ready for the set to end. He continued on for another 25 minutes, giving us nearly 2 1/2 hours of wonderful music.
The set consisted of an excellent mix of classic and new, cover and improv. Among the familiar tunes we heard were "Light It on Fire," "Little Blue One," "Slow Down," "Here I Sit in Prison," "Hey Bartender," "Irish Boy," and "The Hate Song." We also heard some newer tracks from the recent albums Exit to Mystery Street and Stew from New Orleans (a collaborative effort with John Boutte). "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?", "I'm a Believer," "If I Only Had a Brain," and a rousing singalong of "You Are My Sunshine" rounded out the set, along with a ditty made up on the spot about those in the crowd who continued to talk loudly (and who presumably were oblivious to the fact that Paul was making up a rather amusing song about them).
One funny moment of the night unrelated to Paul occurred when a stranger came over to our table for a very odd exchange with Aura. Aura still was at work when Robin, Jason and I went to the cannery building, which has an excellent little pizza place called the Olive Branch Cafe. I had 1/3 of an olive calzone leftover and convinced Aura to eat it (which she did ever so daintily). The strange woman came over and told Aura that she looked like a pizza-eating queen holding court over all these "guys" (Um, hello! Guys?). She then told Aura to try the wine. Apparently the fruity/flowery cocktail in front of her wasn't good enough.
After the set, we listened in as Robin interviewed Paul for Aura's New Orleans theatre/music podcast "Backstage on the Bayou" (http://www.backstageonthebayou.com). For those of you who are Paul fans, the episode should be up within the next week or two.
I got that feeling for the first time in 23 months on Friday as we drove in for a long weekend visit. That evening, I got a similar feeling when we went to see Paul Sanchez perform, also for the first time in 23 months.
We typically stood in front of Paul when he was with Cowboy Mouth, and he always recognized us, no matter how long it had been since our last show - like reuniting with an old friend. Friday we went to say hello before his solo acoustic set at Clever Wine Bar, and he said he remembered us. He also gave Jason a shout out during the set, thanking him for his support over the years. After the set, when I relayed a greeting from our friend Healey, he asked about her and her boyfriend Mike (though I'd not mentioned Mike at all).
That kind of memory, regard and appreciation for his fans is one reason that we so enjoy seeing Paul, but certainly not the only one. His music soothes the soul, partially because, as my friend Aura pointed out Friday night, his voice is "smooth like butter."
Friday's venue was quite unique. The wine bar is one of many businesses converted from an old cannery. Despite the exposed ventilation and pipes, the location is quite chic and cozy. When we arrived, all of the bar stools and the tables closest to the small corner stage were taken. We picked a large round table near the rear of the bar, which had its pros and cons. Although the standing crowd that filled the bar by the middle of the set obscured our view of the stage, the cushy chairs around the table provided a relaxing place to enjoy our beverages and the music.
Although scheduled to play only from 8-10 p.m., neither Paul nor the crowd was ready for the set to end. He continued on for another 25 minutes, giving us nearly 2 1/2 hours of wonderful music.
The set consisted of an excellent mix of classic and new, cover and improv. Among the familiar tunes we heard were "Light It on Fire," "Little Blue One," "Slow Down," "Here I Sit in Prison," "Hey Bartender," "Irish Boy," and "The Hate Song." We also heard some newer tracks from the recent albums Exit to Mystery Street and Stew from New Orleans (a collaborative effort with John Boutte). "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?", "I'm a Believer," "If I Only Had a Brain," and a rousing singalong of "You Are My Sunshine" rounded out the set, along with a ditty made up on the spot about those in the crowd who continued to talk loudly (and who presumably were oblivious to the fact that Paul was making up a rather amusing song about them).
One funny moment of the night unrelated to Paul occurred when a stranger came over to our table for a very odd exchange with Aura. Aura still was at work when Robin, Jason and I went to the cannery building, which has an excellent little pizza place called the Olive Branch Cafe. I had 1/3 of an olive calzone leftover and convinced Aura to eat it (which she did ever so daintily). The strange woman came over and told Aura that she looked like a pizza-eating queen holding court over all these "guys" (Um, hello! Guys?). She then told Aura to try the wine. Apparently the fruity/flowery cocktail in front of her wasn't good enough.
After the set, we listened in as Robin interviewed Paul for Aura's New Orleans theatre/music podcast "Backstage on the Bayou" (http://www.backstageonthebayou.com). For those of you who are Paul fans, the episode should be up within the next week or two.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Roasted potato salad recipe
I've had the biggest craving for potato salad lately, but being on a diet, I didn't want to do the usual deli salad full of mayo and without much in the way of veggies. I also wanted one that could stand alone as a main dish.
Armed with the criteria of light with some veggies and good vegetarian protein in it, I went on an internet search. I found nothing that exactly fit the bill, but I did find this one and worked from it.
I was really intrigued by the idea of doing a salad with roasted potatoes. Roasted potatoes are my specialty, so my first modification of the original recipe was to roast with all the herbs I typically use (rather than just salt).
I also subbed dijon mustard for regular yellow, used shallots instead of onion, added in some capers, traded hard-boiled eggs for the chicken in the original recipe, and topped mine with some chopped cashews.
The result was exactly what I wanted.
Roasted potato salad (serves 4 as a side dish or 2 hungry folks as an entree)
2 lbs. small red-skin potatoes, quartered
Olive oil
Salt
2 shallots, minced
Four cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp. minced rosemary
1 tsp. dried sage
1 cup green beans, trimmed and blanched
1/2 cup light mayo
1/2 cup plain nonfat yogurt
1/4 cup nonfat milk
2 tbsp. dijon mustard
3 hard boiled eggs, sliced
1 cup grape tomatoes
2 tbsp. capers
1/4 cup roasted cashews, chopped
Toss potatoes with olive oil and salt to taste and roast for 30 minutes at 425, turning every 10 minutes
Add the herbs, shallots, garlic and green beans to the potatoes (add additional oil and salt if necessary) and roast an additional 20-30 minutes, turning every 10 minutes.
Let the potato mixture cool while you mix the dressing (mayo through mustard). Toss the potato mixture with the dressing, eggs, tomatoes and capers. Chill for at least two hours.
Serve topped with chopped cashews.
Armed with the criteria of light with some veggies and good vegetarian protein in it, I went on an internet search. I found nothing that exactly fit the bill, but I did find this one and worked from it.
I was really intrigued by the idea of doing a salad with roasted potatoes. Roasted potatoes are my specialty, so my first modification of the original recipe was to roast with all the herbs I typically use (rather than just salt).
I also subbed dijon mustard for regular yellow, used shallots instead of onion, added in some capers, traded hard-boiled eggs for the chicken in the original recipe, and topped mine with some chopped cashews.
The result was exactly what I wanted.
Roasted potato salad (serves 4 as a side dish or 2 hungry folks as an entree)
2 lbs. small red-skin potatoes, quartered
Olive oil
Salt
2 shallots, minced
Four cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp. minced rosemary
1 tsp. dried sage
1 cup green beans, trimmed and blanched
1/2 cup light mayo
1/2 cup plain nonfat yogurt
1/4 cup nonfat milk
2 tbsp. dijon mustard
3 hard boiled eggs, sliced
1 cup grape tomatoes
2 tbsp. capers
1/4 cup roasted cashews, chopped
Toss potatoes with olive oil and salt to taste and roast for 30 minutes at 425, turning every 10 minutes
Add the herbs, shallots, garlic and green beans to the potatoes (add additional oil and salt if necessary) and roast an additional 20-30 minutes, turning every 10 minutes.
Let the potato mixture cool while you mix the dressing (mayo through mustard). Toss the potato mixture with the dressing, eggs, tomatoes and capers. Chill for at least two hours.
Serve topped with chopped cashews.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Better Than Ezra photos, videos
As promised, here are the photos and videos from the Better Than Ezra show Friday.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Gulf breeze on the porch, me and my honey rockin' back and forth
In addition to ending a 2 1/2-year Better Than Ezra draught for me, last night's show was special for a few reasons. First and foremost, my dear friend Carmen trekked from Florida to attend. Although we've been online friends for going on three years, this was the first time we met in person. I very much enjoyed getting to spend an entire evening chatting with her and having someone to share fan-girliness with (Jason was with us and overjoyed, I'm sure). Our combined obsessiveness inspired us to arrive an hour before doors, making us first in line and first to the front of the stage, just left of center. The audience slowly filled in from there. We were a little concerned when the crowd was very sparse for the first opener, but it was packed by the time BTE came on.
Second, the venue is unique and pretty fabulous. The boys performed at Sloss Furnaces, an iron foundry turned national historic landmark to preserve Birmingham's industrial heritage. All of the strange contraptions used for iron production remain around the site, including a huge furnace at the end of the building in which the concert took place. The structure is well covered but not completely enclosed, allowing for a quasi-open air experience. The fabulous cross-breeze made the evening feel a tad tropical (which Kevin noted during the show).
Third, the concert, titled "Raise the Volume," is a fund-raiser for Birmingham's Laps for Cystic Fibrosis organization. Five Birmingham high schools joined forces to sell tickets and otherwise promote the event, raising a combined $20,000. The top two fund-raisers each got to choose a band from their respective schools to perform as opening acts.
Both were mainly cover bands, performing tunes by groups that have been around since long before they were born. Altamont's choice was called Sweet Santana and the Love Parade (or as Kevin said later, Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium). These kids looked YOUNG (I assume they were underclassmen) and goofy, the latter primarily due to the ridiculous costumes they were wearing. The guitarist (who kicked ass, by the way) wore a Sgt. Pepper-esque military jacket; the bassist a crazy multi-colored Cat in the Hat-style cap; the drummer a kingly velvet purple cape; the saxophonist an open shirt with a big black sequined bow tie, big sunglasses and a plaid golfer cap; and the lead "singer"/screamer a red vest without a shirt and a Native American headdress. They covered mostly Red Hot Chili Peppers and did OK. Mountain Brook gave us Square One: four shaggy-haired cute dorky boys wearing dark t-shirts, ragged jeans or khakis and Converse. They seemed a little older (maybe juniors or seniors) and performed better, offering a set of Chili Peppers, Collective Soul, Led Zeppelin, and Beastie Boys.
We then endured a 20-minute wait as BTE's crew set up for the main act. Carmen and I could scarcely contain our excitement; Jason played his Nintendo DS. Finally, the lights went dark, and a recorded intro brought Kevin, Tom, Michael and Jim to the stage.
The 1 3/4-hour set was high-energy, the banter hilarious, the music FANTASTIC. The smiling, cheering, singing, and dancing left my face, throat and body sore. I anticipated that seeing someone other than Travis on the drum riser would be strange, but it wasn't. Michael looked at home there and tore it up, and the interaction among all of the band members felt natural. I miss Trabby, but Michael fits in well.
Of course the music is the big draw, but the interaction and banter is really what makes the live show special. We got the always entertaining battle of the "yeah, yeahs" between Kevin and Tom. Tom definitely won with a long, loud screechy "yeeee-aaaahhhh" that made Kevin say, "Wow." (Tom's only other mic time consisted of a pitch for today's Ezra Open, after which Kevin encouraged us all to take a road trip to New Orleans after the show.)
Other typical banter included Kevin's insistence toward the beginning of the show that the South has the most attractive people, and his warnings that those who are sensitive to flashing light should avert their eyes from his guitar fret prior to "Extraordinary" and that the room was bound to overheat prior to "Miss You." However, the pre-"Miss You" bit was modified such that the caution actually was coming by way of the specter of "old man Sloss," whom Kevin said looked like Yoda. Another reference to Sloss's history and legends came via a comment early in the show that Kevin was going to go on a haunted history tour of the venue later.
Kevin made sure to point out that Jim Payne's father played for Auburn (drawing emphatic boos from the crowd) and to reference the rivalry between Alabama and LSU, conceding Nick Saban to us but predicting that the Bayou Bengals would avenge last year's loss to the Crimson Tide this fall. Kevin also brought up Jim's Alabama ties during his pre-"At the Stars" guitar change, asking him to play something by someone from Alabama. Jim started to play "Sweet Home Alabama," but his guitar apparently was out of tune. Kevin asked the crowd who else was from Alabama, and someone shouted out Oasis, to Kevin's great amusement.
Of course Kevin did his little dance during the "Miss You" prelude to "Juicy." He also did a crazy sexy dance toward Michael at one point, which he described as "Princing it up." This led him to sing a bit of Prince's "I Would Die 4 U."
When Kevin noted the tropical feel of the breeze, he said it made him feel like singing "Margaritaville." Tom started playing it, to which Kevin replied, "I said LIKE. It's like saying I feel like an eagle. I'm not really an eagle. I can't fly." Jim then started playing Steve Miller Band's "Fly Like an Eagle," and the boys broke into an awesome partial cover of that song, to the audience's delight.
During the "breakdown" part of "Desperately Wanting," Kevin had Michael interpret some vocal gymnastics on the skins (Kevin proclaimed the he had no rhythm, himself). Kevin then had the lights dimmed and asked Jim to interpret his lyrics in a sexy voice. So Jim spoke the lines "Take back your life/let me inside" in a Barry White-esque low, steamy style (which Jason just said sounded more like Satan to him haha).
Finally, during the partial cover of Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper" in the middle of "In the Blood," Kevin invited the cute little drummer from Square One (whose name also was Kevin) on stage to play the cowbell. The kid rocked it.
The whole audience got to participate during a couple songs. Kevin asked us to sing the chorus of "A Lifetime," predicting that if everyone in the audience sang it in unison, we'd all start looking at each other and making out. "It will seem weird and wrong at first," he said, "but then you'll just go with it." Apparently, not everyone sang in unison, because no making out occurred that I saw. He also asked us to sing the chorus of "Collide." I expected he might have us sing the "do do dos," but he didn't; he actually had us sing the chorus. We sang the cover of Sublime's "What I Got" at the end of "Extraordinary" with him as well.
Because there were so many high school students in the audience, the boys had to keep their set as clean as possible. We noticed this most in "King of New Orleans," as Kevin left out his customary "mother fucker" after the line "Gutter punks are all the same" and sang "Break that STUFF on down" (in lieu of "shit").
Following is the setlist, which I know is in the right order for the first few, last few and encore. The middle, I'm not too sure about, but I know I got all of the songs in there.
Good
Misunderstood
Sincerely, Me (Not ENTIRELY the right words. lol)
Rosealia
A Lifetime
Extraordinary/What I Got
Partial Fly Like an Eagle cover
Collide (So beautiful, I almost cried; video forthcoming)
King of New Orleans
At the Stars
Absolutely Still (video forthcoming)
Laid
Southern Thing
Miss You/Juicy (video of Miss You forthcoming)
Desperately Wanting
Encore:
Burned
Part of It's Only Natural (Not entirely the right words here, either, but I LOVE the slower live version so much more than the album version)
Breakdown (Tom Petty cover)
In the Blood/Don't Fear the Reaper
I took a few videos, as noted above, and tons of photos. As soon as I have a chance to pull them off my camera and post them, I'll let y'all know. Those were the only souvenirs we got, unfortunately. A lot of picks came our way but were caught by other people around us, and we couldn't get the security guy to give us the one that landed at his feet in front of us. One of the event dudes gave it to a high school chick near us who either was cuter or just squeaked louder than us. Nevertheless, it was an amazing show and an all-around wonderful night. I will not let another 2 1/2 years go by without seeing them again.
Second, the venue is unique and pretty fabulous. The boys performed at Sloss Furnaces, an iron foundry turned national historic landmark to preserve Birmingham's industrial heritage. All of the strange contraptions used for iron production remain around the site, including a huge furnace at the end of the building in which the concert took place. The structure is well covered but not completely enclosed, allowing for a quasi-open air experience. The fabulous cross-breeze made the evening feel a tad tropical (which Kevin noted during the show).
Third, the concert, titled "Raise the Volume," is a fund-raiser for Birmingham's Laps for Cystic Fibrosis organization. Five Birmingham high schools joined forces to sell tickets and otherwise promote the event, raising a combined $20,000. The top two fund-raisers each got to choose a band from their respective schools to perform as opening acts.
Both were mainly cover bands, performing tunes by groups that have been around since long before they were born. Altamont's choice was called Sweet Santana and the Love Parade (or as Kevin said later, Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium). These kids looked YOUNG (I assume they were underclassmen) and goofy, the latter primarily due to the ridiculous costumes they were wearing. The guitarist (who kicked ass, by the way) wore a Sgt. Pepper-esque military jacket; the bassist a crazy multi-colored Cat in the Hat-style cap; the drummer a kingly velvet purple cape; the saxophonist an open shirt with a big black sequined bow tie, big sunglasses and a plaid golfer cap; and the lead "singer"/screamer a red vest without a shirt and a Native American headdress. They covered mostly Red Hot Chili Peppers and did OK. Mountain Brook gave us Square One: four shaggy-haired cute dorky boys wearing dark t-shirts, ragged jeans or khakis and Converse. They seemed a little older (maybe juniors or seniors) and performed better, offering a set of Chili Peppers, Collective Soul, Led Zeppelin, and Beastie Boys.
We then endured a 20-minute wait as BTE's crew set up for the main act. Carmen and I could scarcely contain our excitement; Jason played his Nintendo DS. Finally, the lights went dark, and a recorded intro brought Kevin, Tom, Michael and Jim to the stage.
The 1 3/4-hour set was high-energy, the banter hilarious, the music FANTASTIC. The smiling, cheering, singing, and dancing left my face, throat and body sore. I anticipated that seeing someone other than Travis on the drum riser would be strange, but it wasn't. Michael looked at home there and tore it up, and the interaction among all of the band members felt natural. I miss Trabby, but Michael fits in well.
Of course the music is the big draw, but the interaction and banter is really what makes the live show special. We got the always entertaining battle of the "yeah, yeahs" between Kevin and Tom. Tom definitely won with a long, loud screechy "yeeee-aaaahhhh" that made Kevin say, "Wow." (Tom's only other mic time consisted of a pitch for today's Ezra Open, after which Kevin encouraged us all to take a road trip to New Orleans after the show.)
Other typical banter included Kevin's insistence toward the beginning of the show that the South has the most attractive people, and his warnings that those who are sensitive to flashing light should avert their eyes from his guitar fret prior to "Extraordinary" and that the room was bound to overheat prior to "Miss You." However, the pre-"Miss You" bit was modified such that the caution actually was coming by way of the specter of "old man Sloss," whom Kevin said looked like Yoda. Another reference to Sloss's history and legends came via a comment early in the show that Kevin was going to go on a haunted history tour of the venue later.
Kevin made sure to point out that Jim Payne's father played for Auburn (drawing emphatic boos from the crowd) and to reference the rivalry between Alabama and LSU, conceding Nick Saban to us but predicting that the Bayou Bengals would avenge last year's loss to the Crimson Tide this fall. Kevin also brought up Jim's Alabama ties during his pre-"At the Stars" guitar change, asking him to play something by someone from Alabama. Jim started to play "Sweet Home Alabama," but his guitar apparently was out of tune. Kevin asked the crowd who else was from Alabama, and someone shouted out Oasis, to Kevin's great amusement.
Of course Kevin did his little dance during the "Miss You" prelude to "Juicy." He also did a crazy sexy dance toward Michael at one point, which he described as "Princing it up." This led him to sing a bit of Prince's "I Would Die 4 U."
When Kevin noted the tropical feel of the breeze, he said it made him feel like singing "Margaritaville." Tom started playing it, to which Kevin replied, "I said LIKE. It's like saying I feel like an eagle. I'm not really an eagle. I can't fly." Jim then started playing Steve Miller Band's "Fly Like an Eagle," and the boys broke into an awesome partial cover of that song, to the audience's delight.
During the "breakdown" part of "Desperately Wanting," Kevin had Michael interpret some vocal gymnastics on the skins (Kevin proclaimed the he had no rhythm, himself). Kevin then had the lights dimmed and asked Jim to interpret his lyrics in a sexy voice. So Jim spoke the lines "Take back your life/let me inside" in a Barry White-esque low, steamy style (which Jason just said sounded more like Satan to him haha).
Finally, during the partial cover of Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper" in the middle of "In the Blood," Kevin invited the cute little drummer from Square One (whose name also was Kevin) on stage to play the cowbell. The kid rocked it.
The whole audience got to participate during a couple songs. Kevin asked us to sing the chorus of "A Lifetime," predicting that if everyone in the audience sang it in unison, we'd all start looking at each other and making out. "It will seem weird and wrong at first," he said, "but then you'll just go with it." Apparently, not everyone sang in unison, because no making out occurred that I saw. He also asked us to sing the chorus of "Collide." I expected he might have us sing the "do do dos," but he didn't; he actually had us sing the chorus. We sang the cover of Sublime's "What I Got" at the end of "Extraordinary" with him as well.
Because there were so many high school students in the audience, the boys had to keep their set as clean as possible. We noticed this most in "King of New Orleans," as Kevin left out his customary "mother fucker" after the line "Gutter punks are all the same" and sang "Break that STUFF on down" (in lieu of "shit").
Following is the setlist, which I know is in the right order for the first few, last few and encore. The middle, I'm not too sure about, but I know I got all of the songs in there.
Good
Misunderstood
Sincerely, Me (Not ENTIRELY the right words. lol)
Rosealia
A Lifetime
Extraordinary/What I Got
Partial Fly Like an Eagle cover
Collide (So beautiful, I almost cried; video forthcoming)
King of New Orleans
At the Stars
Absolutely Still (video forthcoming)
Laid
Southern Thing
Miss You/Juicy (video of Miss You forthcoming)
Desperately Wanting
Encore:
Burned
Part of It's Only Natural (Not entirely the right words here, either, but I LOVE the slower live version so much more than the album version)
Breakdown (Tom Petty cover)
In the Blood/Don't Fear the Reaper
I took a few videos, as noted above, and tons of photos. As soon as I have a chance to pull them off my camera and post them, I'll let y'all know. Those were the only souvenirs we got, unfortunately. A lot of picks came our way but were caught by other people around us, and we couldn't get the security guy to give us the one that landed at his feet in front of us. One of the event dudes gave it to a high school chick near us who either was cuter or just squeaked louder than us. Nevertheless, it was an amazing show and an all-around wonderful night. I will not let another 2 1/2 years go by without seeing them again.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
My name is Harvey Milk, and I'm here to recruit you
I've wanted to see Milk since we first saw previews for it several months ago, but unfortunately, it never came to the local cineplex. So, although it's already out on DVD, we took advantage of the opportunity to see it on the big screen when it came to the old Bama Theatre downtown this weekend.
Being a history buff, I was well aware of Harvey Milk's story, but you don't have to be to understand the film and grasp its meaning. Director Gus Van Sant and writer Dustin Black aptly introduce us to all the main characters and establish their significance to the story without bogging us down in a lot of unnecessary build-up.
We meet Milk (the definitely Oscar-worthy Sean Penn) in a New York City subway has he stops a stranger (James Franco's adorable Scott Smith) and asks him to celebrate his 40th birthday with him. The two run away together to San Francisco, where a series of experiences catapult Milk into political activism and, eventually, public office. Through dialog alone, we get an excellent sense of Milk's background prior to that fateful meeting. Also, simply by jumping from one significant event to the next (which keeps the film moving along and the audience captivated), we come to fully appreciate how much Milk's devotion to the cause cost him and those around him.
Josh Brolin appears in just a handful of scenes as the conflicted city Supervisor Dan White, but the writing and acting in those scenes more than adequately provide insight into his state of mind. The irony of a drunk White proclaiming outside Milk's birthday party that he "has issues" is lost on no one.
Milk, particularly the footage of the memorial at the end, serves as a beautiful tribute to the man on the 30th anniversary of his death. The story is inspirational in the sense that it shows how one person can go from a humble life of "nothing to be proud of" to achieving greatness by standing firm to his convictions, taking action and rallying others to join his cause. On the other hand, it's also a somewhat depressing eye-opener.
Thirty years have passed, and little has changed. Although it's definitely easier for folks to be openly homosexual now than it was 30 years ago, there still are those forces that would seek to treat the homosexual community as aberrations. The language of Anita Bryant and the other conservative, "family values"-centered individuals who speak out against gay rights in the film echoes the sentiments of those who to this day try to prevent homosexuals from enjoying the same rights as the heterosexual population. Only months ago, the very state in which Milk and his cohorts fought to prevent the passage of Prop. 6 passed Prop. 8, and the rhetoric in favor of that equally demeaning and ridiculous proposal was no different from what we heard in the theatre this afternoon.
It's astounding the irrationality that stems from a fear of that which is different from you. When Milk debated Prop. 6 initiator John Briggs, he approached the conversation with logic and reason whereas Briggs spoke in circles and contradictions. It reminded me a great deal of the Republican propaganda that circulated during the recent Presidential election campaign, which used absurd half-truths and self-refuting ideas in an attempt to explain why Barack Obama's push for universal equality was bad.
For that reason and many others, it's interesting that the release of Milk coincided with Obama's election. Never in my lifetime had I seen people as engaged in the political process and excited about the prospects of change and equal rights as they were in this film - until Obama ran for and was elected president. Although those who seek to suppress the rights of those who are different clearly never will go away, perhaps we still can move toward the ideals for which Milk died.
Being a history buff, I was well aware of Harvey Milk's story, but you don't have to be to understand the film and grasp its meaning. Director Gus Van Sant and writer Dustin Black aptly introduce us to all the main characters and establish their significance to the story without bogging us down in a lot of unnecessary build-up.
We meet Milk (the definitely Oscar-worthy Sean Penn) in a New York City subway has he stops a stranger (James Franco's adorable Scott Smith) and asks him to celebrate his 40th birthday with him. The two run away together to San Francisco, where a series of experiences catapult Milk into political activism and, eventually, public office. Through dialog alone, we get an excellent sense of Milk's background prior to that fateful meeting. Also, simply by jumping from one significant event to the next (which keeps the film moving along and the audience captivated), we come to fully appreciate how much Milk's devotion to the cause cost him and those around him.
Josh Brolin appears in just a handful of scenes as the conflicted city Supervisor Dan White, but the writing and acting in those scenes more than adequately provide insight into his state of mind. The irony of a drunk White proclaiming outside Milk's birthday party that he "has issues" is lost on no one.
Milk, particularly the footage of the memorial at the end, serves as a beautiful tribute to the man on the 30th anniversary of his death. The story is inspirational in the sense that it shows how one person can go from a humble life of "nothing to be proud of" to achieving greatness by standing firm to his convictions, taking action and rallying others to join his cause. On the other hand, it's also a somewhat depressing eye-opener.
Thirty years have passed, and little has changed. Although it's definitely easier for folks to be openly homosexual now than it was 30 years ago, there still are those forces that would seek to treat the homosexual community as aberrations. The language of Anita Bryant and the other conservative, "family values"-centered individuals who speak out against gay rights in the film echoes the sentiments of those who to this day try to prevent homosexuals from enjoying the same rights as the heterosexual population. Only months ago, the very state in which Milk and his cohorts fought to prevent the passage of Prop. 6 passed Prop. 8, and the rhetoric in favor of that equally demeaning and ridiculous proposal was no different from what we heard in the theatre this afternoon.
It's astounding the irrationality that stems from a fear of that which is different from you. When Milk debated Prop. 6 initiator John Briggs, he approached the conversation with logic and reason whereas Briggs spoke in circles and contradictions. It reminded me a great deal of the Republican propaganda that circulated during the recent Presidential election campaign, which used absurd half-truths and self-refuting ideas in an attempt to explain why Barack Obama's push for universal equality was bad.
For that reason and many others, it's interesting that the release of Milk coincided with Obama's election. Never in my lifetime had I seen people as engaged in the political process and excited about the prospects of change and equal rights as they were in this film - until Obama ran for and was elected president. Although those who seek to suppress the rights of those who are different clearly never will go away, perhaps we still can move toward the ideals for which Milk died.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Where have all the bloggers gone?
I remember a time not too long ago when every time something remotely interesting occurred in my life, I blogged it. A time when I spent the first hour or so of my morning reading and commenting on all my friends' blogs and catching up on more public (i.e., celebrity-related) blogs. But very few people blog anymore, and if they do, their entries are few and far between. The most active blogs are those with a purpose (like my friend Kimberly's Poor Girl Eats Well). People just aren't talking about their lives in blog form as much anymore.
Yesterday I was admonishing one of my friends (who used to write the most HILARIOUS blogs) because he hasn't blogged in more than a month. Then it occurred to me, I haven't been blogging so much either. I told myself my blogging urge had quieted because of MySpace's many recent glitches. I made this pretty blogger.com space to make up for that, and I've written all of three blogs on it since early February. I used to average three blogs A DAY.
So what's happened? The Internet has evolved. Now I spend the first hour or so of my day catching up on Facebook and Twitter. Everyone sends out pieces of their lives in snippets. The social networking site seems to have taken the place of the blog in many ways.
In some ways, that's cool. We're all growing busier by the minute. One may not have ten or twenty minutes to devote to writing a thought-out, carefully-worded essay on the state of their world. But it takes mere seconds to tweet, especially if you have a widget built right into your browser that lets you keep up with your friends' updates and post your own while you're doing other things. We still can keep up with each other, but more efficiently.
As the same time, you lose something. There's no way my friend Elise could pack one of her crazy stories into a Facebook status (so thankfully, she still blogs from time to time). You can only express so much in 140 characters or less.
Yesterday I was admonishing one of my friends (who used to write the most HILARIOUS blogs) because he hasn't blogged in more than a month. Then it occurred to me, I haven't been blogging so much either. I told myself my blogging urge had quieted because of MySpace's many recent glitches. I made this pretty blogger.com space to make up for that, and I've written all of three blogs on it since early February. I used to average three blogs A DAY.
So what's happened? The Internet has evolved. Now I spend the first hour or so of my day catching up on Facebook and Twitter. Everyone sends out pieces of their lives in snippets. The social networking site seems to have taken the place of the blog in many ways.
In some ways, that's cool. We're all growing busier by the minute. One may not have ten or twenty minutes to devote to writing a thought-out, carefully-worded essay on the state of their world. But it takes mere seconds to tweet, especially if you have a widget built right into your browser that lets you keep up with your friends' updates and post your own while you're doing other things. We still can keep up with each other, but more efficiently.
As the same time, you lose something. There's no way my friend Elise could pack one of her crazy stories into a Facebook status (so thankfully, she still blogs from time to time). You can only express so much in 140 characters or less.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Bastard!
"Reality" TV amuses me to no end. I know I've expressed this before, but the anthropologist in me is fascinated watching how people react to unusual situations.
I've been on plenty of tirades about the Bachelor. Although I love watching it, it's so cruel...and unrealistic. While it is entirely possible for you to meet your soul mate and love of your life on a television show in which you are courting several people at the same time over the course of a few weeks, it's highly unlikely.
Here's what happens... All of these contenders are thrown into this surreal situation of dating the same guy. They come into it expecting to fall for him, so they do, especially when thrust into all of these over-the-top, fantasy, fairy-tale romantic dating situations. I have no doubt they develop real, true feelings. Whether or not it's the type of love that lasts through a lifetime of actual reality is another matter.
Being a romantic at heart, though, I was excited to see Jason become The Bachelor this season, and was convinced he could find his happy ending. At least I wanted him to, and I wanted to watch it happen.
So I watched every episode, enjoyed all the cattiness (because of course that's what makes the early episodes truly interesting), and picked my favorites. Early on, I predicted Stephanie, Jillian, and Melissa would be the final three. Though I adored Jillian, I figured Melissa was better suited for him and he ultimately would choose her.
Molly threw me. I couldn't stand Molly from day 1. I don't think she's at all attractive, her hair looks like a rat's nest half the time, and her laugh is annoying. Every time he have her a rose, I was shocked. I couldn't believe that he seemed so torn between Melissa and Molly on the finale, and his reaction to cutting Molly loose floored me.
But then he proposed to Melissa, they seemed so happy, and all was right with the world. Happy ending achieved, despite DeAnna's pitiful attempt to get him back. THAT was ridiculous; she looked like a fool, and shame on ABC for making that out all season to be a bigger deal than it was.
That's what ABC does best, though. Every rose ceremony has been "the most dramatic ever." Thus, despite ABC's claims that the "After the Final Rose" special would be so shocking and emotionally charged, I had very low expectations.
Then, the bombshell dropped. I was truly shocked, but I can see Jason's point entirely. You are rushed into a decision between two women for whom you clearly have deep feelings. That bitch DeAnna comes in and says, "If you have one certainty and one kind-of wild card, go for the certainty. Don't follow your heart, lead it." Had she not said that, I really think he would have picked Molly to begin with.
You spend however many weeks in this unrealistically romantic situation, and it's easy to get caught up in that. Of course the chemistry changes when the relationship shifts to real life, especially when real life is a long-distance relationship. If he really couldn't stop thinking about Molly, and he really didn't feel that Melissa was right for him, I see no point in him continuing a charade. I understand Melissa being perturbed that he didn't try harder to fight for their relationship after proposing to her, but he proposed under durress. I wouldn't want to be with a man who was so deeply in love with another woman.
However, there are a couple things about the "After the Final Rose" show that I don't buy. For one, I don't believe for a second that the break-up happened then and there. Who does that? I think it was over before the cameras started rolling, and the big on-screen split was for dramatic effect. When she spat, "You bastard!" I rolled my eyes. Hello! Soap opera! As my Jason and I discussed in the car this morning, the only thing that would have made it more soapy would have been if she'd slapped him and said, "But I'm having your baby!" Better yet, "Fine! I'm having Chris's baby!"
I also don't believe that Jason and Molly have had no contact whatsoever. That hello hug was not a hello hug between people who are seeing each other for the first time after having broken up, and the way she smiled at him when he came out was not the way you smile at someone who broke your heart. Maybe I'm just a bitter bitch, but I don't think it works that way. Then there are all the Internet reports that claim Jason and Molly have been spotted together in Grand Rapids multiple times since Christmas.
Anyway, those are my thoughts on the whole crazy turn of events. I'm looking forward to seeing what nonsense goes on in the "After the After The Final Rose" show tonight.
I've been on plenty of tirades about the Bachelor. Although I love watching it, it's so cruel...and unrealistic. While it is entirely possible for you to meet your soul mate and love of your life on a television show in which you are courting several people at the same time over the course of a few weeks, it's highly unlikely.
Here's what happens... All of these contenders are thrown into this surreal situation of dating the same guy. They come into it expecting to fall for him, so they do, especially when thrust into all of these over-the-top, fantasy, fairy-tale romantic dating situations. I have no doubt they develop real, true feelings. Whether or not it's the type of love that lasts through a lifetime of actual reality is another matter.
Being a romantic at heart, though, I was excited to see Jason become The Bachelor this season, and was convinced he could find his happy ending. At least I wanted him to, and I wanted to watch it happen.
So I watched every episode, enjoyed all the cattiness (because of course that's what makes the early episodes truly interesting), and picked my favorites. Early on, I predicted Stephanie, Jillian, and Melissa would be the final three. Though I adored Jillian, I figured Melissa was better suited for him and he ultimately would choose her.
Molly threw me. I couldn't stand Molly from day 1. I don't think she's at all attractive, her hair looks like a rat's nest half the time, and her laugh is annoying. Every time he have her a rose, I was shocked. I couldn't believe that he seemed so torn between Melissa and Molly on the finale, and his reaction to cutting Molly loose floored me.
But then he proposed to Melissa, they seemed so happy, and all was right with the world. Happy ending achieved, despite DeAnna's pitiful attempt to get him back. THAT was ridiculous; she looked like a fool, and shame on ABC for making that out all season to be a bigger deal than it was.
That's what ABC does best, though. Every rose ceremony has been "the most dramatic ever." Thus, despite ABC's claims that the "After the Final Rose" special would be so shocking and emotionally charged, I had very low expectations.
Then, the bombshell dropped. I was truly shocked, but I can see Jason's point entirely. You are rushed into a decision between two women for whom you clearly have deep feelings. That bitch DeAnna comes in and says, "If you have one certainty and one kind-of wild card, go for the certainty. Don't follow your heart, lead it." Had she not said that, I really think he would have picked Molly to begin with.
You spend however many weeks in this unrealistically romantic situation, and it's easy to get caught up in that. Of course the chemistry changes when the relationship shifts to real life, especially when real life is a long-distance relationship. If he really couldn't stop thinking about Molly, and he really didn't feel that Melissa was right for him, I see no point in him continuing a charade. I understand Melissa being perturbed that he didn't try harder to fight for their relationship after proposing to her, but he proposed under durress. I wouldn't want to be with a man who was so deeply in love with another woman.
However, there are a couple things about the "After the Final Rose" show that I don't buy. For one, I don't believe for a second that the break-up happened then and there. Who does that? I think it was over before the cameras started rolling, and the big on-screen split was for dramatic effect. When she spat, "You bastard!" I rolled my eyes. Hello! Soap opera! As my Jason and I discussed in the car this morning, the only thing that would have made it more soapy would have been if she'd slapped him and said, "But I'm having your baby!" Better yet, "Fine! I'm having Chris's baby!"
I also don't believe that Jason and Molly have had no contact whatsoever. That hello hug was not a hello hug between people who are seeing each other for the first time after having broken up, and the way she smiled at him when he came out was not the way you smile at someone who broke your heart. Maybe I'm just a bitter bitch, but I don't think it works that way. Then there are all the Internet reports that claim Jason and Molly have been spotted together in Grand Rapids multiple times since Christmas.
Anyway, those are my thoughts on the whole crazy turn of events. I'm looking forward to seeing what nonsense goes on in the "After the After The Final Rose" show tonight.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Tell me we were meant to be a happy accident
It had been nearly two years since I last saw one of my favorite bands of all time, Sister Hazel. So when we discovered they were playing here in Tuscaloosa last night, we jumped at the chance to go (even though Cowboy Mouth was playing in Birmingham the same night).
They played at The Jupiter, a club on the infamous Strip just off campus. It's kind of a strange venue: small floor space with ramps leading up to a bar area with several small tables. The bar itself is a giant square in the middle of the room, which was packed by the time Sister Hazel came on.We arrived near 8:30, about a half-hour after doors (because at the end of a long work day, who wants to go through the BS of waiting in line for the doors to open and then standing at the stage for 2+ hours waiting for the headliner to start?). We found the center part of the stage crowded but the wings only one row deep so far. So, being that we always in the past have stood on stage left (in front of Ken and Jett), we decided on a change of scenery and went to stage right. This plan backfired, to my great joy, but we'll get to that.
We had to wait only about 30 minutes before the opener began, during which time I splurged on two DCs with lime. Neither alcohol nor soda is on my new diet, but it was a festive atmosphere, and the Diet Cokes tasted loverly.Hana Pestle, the warm-up artist, was a very cute (though toothpick slender with no T or A to speak of) redhead with a beautiful voice, which resembled a cross between Sarah McLachlan and Jewel. Her original material got extremely repetitive after a while, but the crowd really enjoyed her covers of Janis Joplin's "Me & Bobby McGee" and Radiohead's "Creep." I most enjoyed the boys next to me making fun of this weird rat-tail thing she had hanging off the back of her shirt.
Another 40 minutes passed before Sister Hazel finally took the stage. We learned quickly that the people in front and to our right were the right people to stand by. They embraced us as members of their group, proclaiming as little wenches tried to squeeze up front that we were all together. The people who wound up behind us, however, were not so pleasant. They were perfectly friendly (especially the one who kept pressing her double-D breasts into my back), but they sang loudly and no where remotely near on key for most of the concert, and kept trying to reach for the guys through two rows of people in front of them (knocking me in the head a few times in the process). Nonetheless, it was an amazing set. 
We discovered as the crew set up after Pestle that the band had completely reversed positions, so we were, as usual, right in front of Jett and Ken. Ryan made a number of trips to our side, too, so Drew and Mark were the only band members we never saw up close and personal. There were numerous times when Ryan, Ken, or Jett would come right up to the edge of the stage to play, towering right over our heads. I got some fabulous up-the-nose shots on my camera.The setlist (below) was fairly standard, drawing a little from Somewhere More Familiar and Absolutely, a lot from Chasing Daylight and Fortress. We also were treated to "I Don't Mind," the first single from Ken's new solo album (see the official music video; it's hilarious) and their concert staple cover of the Outfield's "Your Love" (see my video from their 3/30/07 Birmingham show). In addition, when the group of fans beside us told Ken that their friend Amy was there celebrating her 20th birthday, the band broke into an awesome impromptu cover of Pure Prairie League's "Amie."
The funniest moments were Ken's Duran Duran impression (I wish I'd recorded it) and local radio personality Just Hannah's attempt at singing "Swan Dive." The most memorable moment was the end of "Champagne High." The entire band sang for 30 seconds or so in gorgeous a capella harmony, and the crowd went absolutely wild when they finished. Ken said he got goosebumps.
It was a little sobering to realize, however, how old Jason and I are. We both complained of sore feet and backs as we walked back to our car, with every intention of getting in bed and going to sleep the second we got home (whereas all the folks around us were discussing where to go next).
SETLIST
Shame
Change Your Mind
Your Mistake
Strange Cup of Tea
Your Winter
I Don't Mind
Come Around
Beautiful Thing
This Kind of Love
Happy
Mandolin Moon
Swan Dive
Champagne High
All For You
Encore:
Your Love (Outfield cover)
Everybody
Welcome to Scarlett's Web 2.0
Welcome to the new home of Scarlett's Web. After encountering too many bugs on MySpace recently, I'd rather not use it for my blogging needs anymore. Archives from July 2006 to January 2009 remain there, but all new posts will go here.
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