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.
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