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.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
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.
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