Dear concert goers,
I know that you stood outside for hours, possibly in inclement weather you weren't dressed for (thanks to an attempt at being fashionable), just to secure that spot on the barrier. Believe me, I understand, I've done it myself far too many times to count. I get it that being close enough to the lead singer to touch him/feel his breath/show him your tits is high on your bucket list, and I'm not trying to get in your way of that novel pursuit. However, I am here to do a job, my job, the job that I've wanted for years, as passionately perhaps as you have wanted to feel that band member's "package." And really, I don't need your crap.
Yes, part of my job is coming between you and that "indie sex god" you are drooling over up on stage. In fact, in order to do said job, I have to stand 6 inches from that guy and still try to make him look properly shaped, and if I'm lucky even in the right light and properly framed, thanks to some tricks performed by modern technology and a lot of expensive glass. It would really make it a hell of a lot easier if you weren't throwing beers at me, trying to pull my hair, asking me for my photo pass so you can get backstage and seduce someone, and yelling at me to get the fuck out of your view so you can take your own camera phone snaps.
The thing you guys are failing to get, possibly blitzed out of your mind on several shots you took to tame the horror of a crappy opening band, or just plain tired and with achy feet from standing there so bloody long, is that I will only be in your way for 3 songs. Three. Fucking. Songs. Around 10 minutes, that's all I get, to get in that tiny barrier where I'm falling all over the six other photographers, running to catch each member of the band who are oblivious to my need to get an image of them, trying to make the best of the insane effects the light guy is trying out, and not piss off the security guards so they kick me out before my 3 songs are even up. After those three songs, I'll be out of your way, probably never to see you again, and the show goes on like I was never there, and by the time you leave you'll be so thrilled with the two hours of music you just lived through (unless the band really sucked and let you down all around), you won't even remember hide nor hair of me.
I started out where you guys were once. I skipped a whole lot of great gigs to save up the money for my gear, and I went to a lot of lousy gigs I didn't want to in order to get the portfolio I needed to get a job taking pictures. Here's a hint... If having your own photo pass really means that much to you, you can do it too. But you should really start by chilling out. To work in the music industry requires eating a lot of humble pie, sucking up, and being nice to people no matter how little you can stand them. Going around with your nasty attitude towards the venue staff, security, the bartender, the band's crew, and yes even the journalists, is not the way to go. Unless, you know, being a groupie is all you aspire to in life, and you don't know that "you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar" might apply to those endeavours too...
12.11.13
An Evening With Joe Bonamassa - Landmark Theater, Richmond VA - 10.09.13
On Saturday night, Joe Bonamassa brought his trademark brand of blues-rock to the restored Landmark Theater in the heart of downtown Richmond, VA. The show was sold out, and the crowd seemed thrilled to be visited by talent as vast as Joe's.
The show started out with an almost country-sounding rendition of ACDC's classic 'Highway to Hell' blasting through the PA system as the house lights darkened, beckoning the waiting fans to scuttle to their seats and wait for what would come next. In the darkness, Joe made his way to a stool in the center of a rug bearing his initials, and sat under a spotlight and strumming away on an acoustic guitar with the speed and talent that has brought him recognition from fellow guitar greats B.B. King and Eric Clapton. After the fast-paced intro, the other four members of his acoustic ensemble joined him for 8 other songs. Joe doesn't just awe with his playing however, he also sings along with each track, and is very well backed by an assortment of "worldly instruments," as he called them, expertly played by his 4 companions, the aforementioned Sherinian, Lenny Castro on percussion, Irishman Gerry O'Connor on banjo & fiddle, and Mats Wester from Sweden on the exotic nyckelharpa and other rare instruments.
Joe's wit and quirky personality shone throughout the set, as he teased about being honored to open for Joe Bonamassa, as well as jokingly scolding the crowd for clapping when he mentioned his keyboardist Derek Sherinian working with him on Black Country Communion ("None of you bought that album! It sold 17 copies.") and again when they all cheered for his mention of joy to play in Richmond ("Only 35 of you came to my last show here!"). The crowd cheered on, hoping to undo their previous wrongdoings, and ensuring Joe would remember Richmond on yet another stop - and perhaps get another chance to play his song named after the city, which earned the biggest applause of the night.
After a brief intermission, the set returned plugged in, for 9 more songs and an encore of 2 more, fully electric. It was truly An Evening with Joe Bonamassa, as the delighted crowd got to experience the full spectrum of his talent and catalog. As amazing as Joe is acoustic opening for himself, he fully comes alive electric, and he can make his Les Paul guitar sing with passion. Joe was backed up during the acoustic set by Tal Bergman on drums, Carmine Rojas on bass, and again Derek Sherinian on keyboards and Lenny Castro on percussion.
While the blues rock of Joe Bonamassa is not usually my style, I (and many others in Richmond) left a convert, amazed by the sounds of Joe's guitar crying out in his arms. I look forward to my next opportunity to spend an evening with Joe Bonamassa.
The show started out with an almost country-sounding rendition of ACDC's classic 'Highway to Hell' blasting through the PA system as the house lights darkened, beckoning the waiting fans to scuttle to their seats and wait for what would come next. In the darkness, Joe made his way to a stool in the center of a rug bearing his initials, and sat under a spotlight and strumming away on an acoustic guitar with the speed and talent that has brought him recognition from fellow guitar greats B.B. King and Eric Clapton. After the fast-paced intro, the other four members of his acoustic ensemble joined him for 8 other songs. Joe doesn't just awe with his playing however, he also sings along with each track, and is very well backed by an assortment of "worldly instruments," as he called them, expertly played by his 4 companions, the aforementioned Sherinian, Lenny Castro on percussion, Irishman Gerry O'Connor on banjo & fiddle, and Mats Wester from Sweden on the exotic nyckelharpa and other rare instruments.
Joe's wit and quirky personality shone throughout the set, as he teased about being honored to open for Joe Bonamassa, as well as jokingly scolding the crowd for clapping when he mentioned his keyboardist Derek Sherinian working with him on Black Country Communion ("None of you bought that album! It sold 17 copies.") and again when they all cheered for his mention of joy to play in Richmond ("Only 35 of you came to my last show here!"). The crowd cheered on, hoping to undo their previous wrongdoings, and ensuring Joe would remember Richmond on yet another stop - and perhaps get another chance to play his song named after the city, which earned the biggest applause of the night.
After a brief intermission, the set returned plugged in, for 9 more songs and an encore of 2 more, fully electric. It was truly An Evening with Joe Bonamassa, as the delighted crowd got to experience the full spectrum of his talent and catalog. As amazing as Joe is acoustic opening for himself, he fully comes alive electric, and he can make his Les Paul guitar sing with passion. Joe was backed up during the acoustic set by Tal Bergman on drums, Carmine Rojas on bass, and again Derek Sherinian on keyboards and Lenny Castro on percussion.
While the blues rock of Joe Bonamassa is not usually my style, I (and many others in Richmond) left a convert, amazed by the sounds of Joe's guitar crying out in his arms. I look forward to my next opportunity to spend an evening with Joe Bonamassa.
5.9.13
I Am A Masochistic Music Fan, And You May Be Too...
Have you ever been hurt by a band? Answer truthfully. Were you ever insulted upon meeting your favorite artist? Scorned after a post-gig love affair? On less personal notes, offended by a band's continual skipping of your town/region/country on tours? Disgusted by their new mashup of musical genre (*coughbonjovicough*)? Anyone who has passionate affection for more than one musical artist can probably answer "yes" to at least one of those questions, if not more.
Now here's the hook... How often do you go back for more abuse?
I have seen the whole charade enough to know when my friends and myself are loving the pain. Sadly it has been all too often where I've had no choice but to sit back and watch friends turn into groupies, be dismissed the next day and shooed away, never again seen in the same light by their idols. Yet those girls are the ones who continue with their undying love and fail to realize their love wasn't returned during that bathroom encounter. Ick. On the other end of the spectrum, I have male friends who continually build up the same excitement every time their "one true love" band announces a new album, only to be disappointed when it's the same crap rehashed since the 90s, with a new duo done with an artist they loathe, and their town is yet again left off the tour. Does it matter to them that they are so irrelevant to the famous guys they've modeled their lives after, and that this scenario will play out until they're balding old men?
No. Masochistic band fans love the pain. It hurts so good, after all.
In a way one could see music fans as some of the most optimistic and hopeful souls on earth. We may listen to the most depressing lyrics, dress all in black, and lock ourselves away with just our tunes for days on end (or perhaps that was just me at 16) but every time we are let down we get back up again, with more strength than we ever show in real life. We handle the artificial disappointments doled out by our loves with dignity, easily recover, and are quick to forgive and forget.
I often wonder if it isn't an addiction, chasing that first high we got from our bands; yet just as the heroin addict can never repeat that feeling, nor can we. The first 5 times I heard Rebellion (Lies) by Arcade Fire, I had chills and goosebumps. When I saw them from the midst of O2 Arena in London, that feeling had long since passed, and I merely stood there in a sense of panic wondering what they'd done to my song to keep it from giving me that feeling. Ever since, I've loved at least a half dozen songs on each Arcade Fire album, but none have raised my arm hairs. I keep buying their CDs though, and in the back of my mind cannot kill that hope they will write something else that stirs me so deeply. The same goes for gigs - my first proper Franz Ferdinand gig literally changed my life. While that sounds incredibly corny, it was chasing that feeling again which turned me into a highfalutin, world traveling woman of the world who worked 4 disgustingly degrading jobs to pay my way across the Atlantic and back not once, but thrice. Those gigs were amazing, and a series of events pertaining to their aftermath led me to the very bed I lie in as I type this; however the rush I got at that first gig in Providence never came back. I had lost my sense of awe at their live shows, and my inhibitions went up and up the more I ran into the guys in the band. I no longer wanted to be a fan having a good time, because those people annoyed me - and I didn't want to annoy them. Going to gigs, sometime around gig 15 of 29, became a right effort. I know that effort will be massively multiplied come seeing them again in October, but that hasn't stopped me from buying tickets to 2 gigs so far. My inner masochist is looking forward to that pain.
It isn't just the live gigs. I do it with the albums, too, and I know I'm not alone. My friend and I have been debating all week, ever since the new Franz album came out, whether or not we like it. At first, we didn't - hell I even hated the mere IDEA of it. But now, it's growing on me. Am I liking it because it's them? Did I ever *not* like it, or was I just resistant to the change? Have I forgiven them for skipping my entire half the country five times in a row, doling out drama galore to do with this album, and taking 4 years to produce something that probably should be better for that time frame? I'm not one to forgive and forget, so that can't be it. I think the masochist in me is coming out. When it no longer hurts to like them, the masochistic band fan must find a way to drag that knife. As my friend and I debated this album online, another friend of hers chimed in, "Why wouldn't you like it? You love Franz." Neither of us really had a good answer, but we tried. That's the thing, after all. We're all just too big of masochists to enjoy the good parts, and when loving our loves stops hurting, we have to find a way to get our fix.
How about you? Do you like your music with a side of heartache, or are you more subdued than that? Do you know the warning signs of band masochism in case you or your friends need an intervention?
Now here's the hook... How often do you go back for more abuse?
I have seen the whole charade enough to know when my friends and myself are loving the pain. Sadly it has been all too often where I've had no choice but to sit back and watch friends turn into groupies, be dismissed the next day and shooed away, never again seen in the same light by their idols. Yet those girls are the ones who continue with their undying love and fail to realize their love wasn't returned during that bathroom encounter. Ick. On the other end of the spectrum, I have male friends who continually build up the same excitement every time their "one true love" band announces a new album, only to be disappointed when it's the same crap rehashed since the 90s, with a new duo done with an artist they loathe, and their town is yet again left off the tour. Does it matter to them that they are so irrelevant to the famous guys they've modeled their lives after, and that this scenario will play out until they're balding old men?
No. Masochistic band fans love the pain. It hurts so good, after all.
In a way one could see music fans as some of the most optimistic and hopeful souls on earth. We may listen to the most depressing lyrics, dress all in black, and lock ourselves away with just our tunes for days on end (or perhaps that was just me at 16) but every time we are let down we get back up again, with more strength than we ever show in real life. We handle the artificial disappointments doled out by our loves with dignity, easily recover, and are quick to forgive and forget.
I often wonder if it isn't an addiction, chasing that first high we got from our bands; yet just as the heroin addict can never repeat that feeling, nor can we. The first 5 times I heard Rebellion (Lies) by Arcade Fire, I had chills and goosebumps. When I saw them from the midst of O2 Arena in London, that feeling had long since passed, and I merely stood there in a sense of panic wondering what they'd done to my song to keep it from giving me that feeling. Ever since, I've loved at least a half dozen songs on each Arcade Fire album, but none have raised my arm hairs. I keep buying their CDs though, and in the back of my mind cannot kill that hope they will write something else that stirs me so deeply. The same goes for gigs - my first proper Franz Ferdinand gig literally changed my life. While that sounds incredibly corny, it was chasing that feeling again which turned me into a highfalutin, world traveling woman of the world who worked 4 disgustingly degrading jobs to pay my way across the Atlantic and back not once, but thrice. Those gigs were amazing, and a series of events pertaining to their aftermath led me to the very bed I lie in as I type this; however the rush I got at that first gig in Providence never came back. I had lost my sense of awe at their live shows, and my inhibitions went up and up the more I ran into the guys in the band. I no longer wanted to be a fan having a good time, because those people annoyed me - and I didn't want to annoy them. Going to gigs, sometime around gig 15 of 29, became a right effort. I know that effort will be massively multiplied come seeing them again in October, but that hasn't stopped me from buying tickets to 2 gigs so far. My inner masochist is looking forward to that pain.
It isn't just the live gigs. I do it with the albums, too, and I know I'm not alone. My friend and I have been debating all week, ever since the new Franz album came out, whether or not we like it. At first, we didn't - hell I even hated the mere IDEA of it. But now, it's growing on me. Am I liking it because it's them? Did I ever *not* like it, or was I just resistant to the change? Have I forgiven them for skipping my entire half the country five times in a row, doling out drama galore to do with this album, and taking 4 years to produce something that probably should be better for that time frame? I'm not one to forgive and forget, so that can't be it. I think the masochist in me is coming out. When it no longer hurts to like them, the masochistic band fan must find a way to drag that knife. As my friend and I debated this album online, another friend of hers chimed in, "Why wouldn't you like it? You love Franz." Neither of us really had a good answer, but we tried. That's the thing, after all. We're all just too big of masochists to enjoy the good parts, and when loving our loves stops hurting, we have to find a way to get our fix.
How about you? Do you like your music with a side of heartache, or are you more subdued than that? Do you know the warning signs of band masochism in case you or your friends need an intervention?
11.3.13
Django Django - 9:30 Club, Washington D.C. - 09.03.13
The moment I first heard Django Django, I knew they were going to fill a special place in my heart - replacing Franz Ferdinand during an extended hiatus. It wasn't until I saw this gig that I found out how right my first instincts were.
No offense to the venue's many fanboys and girls, but the 9:30 Club has never been my favorite venue for a gig. It is a long up-and-back drive for me (6-8 hours RT), expensive and sometimes difficult to park at, not in the greatest part of town, and always full of... I think they're called hipsters now? I don't keep up with cultural trends, merely what I like, so I assume that's what everyone there in wingtip shoes and spending more time tweeting than watching the band was.
Anyways, to the point, it was a late show so we finally got there after the opening act ended (I had my rock loving old lady, i.e. mother, in tow) and amazingly found decent spots in the balcony. Once Django Django came on I realized why it had been so empty: everyone wanted to dance, and boy it was music to dance to. The whole gig, the old line of Franz Ferdinand's kept going through my head ("we just wanted to make music for girls to dance to") as I swayed along a little in the cramped upper deck.
The three Scottish and one Irish bandmates had boundless energy, and the songs on their debut self-titled album I had listened to on repeat came to life. At first, I had thought them hard to take serious in matching suits and hairstyles, but they were every bit as professional and talented as I had hoped. They played their album, and finally when they ran out of songs, apologized for not having more and said they were so happy they had been received so well that they would be back when they had written more songs.
Though the lads in the band aren't Hansen brothers cute, they have UK charm, and I was surprised to see how few women were at the concert. The ones I did see there were either in gaggles drinking together, or hanging in boredom off the arm of guys who wanted to dance. In retrospective, I believe Django Django was the most male-centric crowd I have ever been in.
After the gig, my companion and I alone got to chat briefly with half of the band, and I learned of an interesting connection between them and Franz, besides the fact that they are both Scottish. Out on the streets of D.C. the guys blended into the hipster boys and I almost would've missed them myself, had it not been for the tip of a kind 9:30 employee. The two of four that we met were quite exemplary of good band "customer service" as I like to call it, and I was glad they could spare some of their time. What a great show, I can't wait to see Django Django again.
No offense to the venue's many fanboys and girls, but the 9:30 Club has never been my favorite venue for a gig. It is a long up-and-back drive for me (6-8 hours RT), expensive and sometimes difficult to park at, not in the greatest part of town, and always full of... I think they're called hipsters now? I don't keep up with cultural trends, merely what I like, so I assume that's what everyone there in wingtip shoes and spending more time tweeting than watching the band was.
Anyways, to the point, it was a late show so we finally got there after the opening act ended (I had my rock loving old lady, i.e. mother, in tow) and amazingly found decent spots in the balcony. Once Django Django came on I realized why it had been so empty: everyone wanted to dance, and boy it was music to dance to. The whole gig, the old line of Franz Ferdinand's kept going through my head ("we just wanted to make music for girls to dance to") as I swayed along a little in the cramped upper deck.
The three Scottish and one Irish bandmates had boundless energy, and the songs on their debut self-titled album I had listened to on repeat came to life. At first, I had thought them hard to take serious in matching suits and hairstyles, but they were every bit as professional and talented as I had hoped. They played their album, and finally when they ran out of songs, apologized for not having more and said they were so happy they had been received so well that they would be back when they had written more songs.
Though the lads in the band aren't Hansen brothers cute, they have UK charm, and I was surprised to see how few women were at the concert. The ones I did see there were either in gaggles drinking together, or hanging in boredom off the arm of guys who wanted to dance. In retrospective, I believe Django Django was the most male-centric crowd I have ever been in.
After the gig, my companion and I alone got to chat briefly with half of the band, and I learned of an interesting connection between them and Franz, besides the fact that they are both Scottish. Out on the streets of D.C. the guys blended into the hipster boys and I almost would've missed them myself, had it not been for the tip of a kind 9:30 employee. The two of four that we met were quite exemplary of good band "customer service" as I like to call it, and I was glad they could spare some of their time. What a great show, I can't wait to see Django Django again.
18.6.11
Guitarists You Recognize By Riff
Below is a list of some of the guitarists who can be identified merely by riff. In no particular order, because I think they are all amazingly talented people. Feel free to comment if I have missed anyone you would like to see on the list, or just tell me which ones of these didn't stir something inside of you (The Edge did for me). In this case, I think the videos can really speak for themselves and no description is needed.
Click on each name to be linked to a video with a guitar solo by that artist.
The Edge
Jack White
Jimmy Page
Jimi Hendrix
Slash
Eddie Van Halen (Van Halen)
Pete Townshend (The Who)
Eric Clapton
B.B. King
Keith Richards (The Rolling Stones)
Robby Krieger (The Doors)
John Frusciante (Red Hot Chili Peppers)
Matt Bellamy (Muse)
I had to give an honorable mention to Matt, seeing as he's the NME readers' vote for greatest guitarist of all time. Frankly what did me in was this video - I'd never really thought of him as a great guitarist before. After all, we can all admit to recognizing some Muse songs by the riff, no?
Click on each name to be linked to a video with a guitar solo by that artist.
The Edge
Jack White
Jimmy Page
Jimi Hendrix
Slash
Eddie Van Halen (Van Halen)
Pete Townshend (The Who)
Eric Clapton
B.B. King
Keith Richards (The Rolling Stones)
Robby Krieger (The Doors)
John Frusciante (Red Hot Chili Peppers)
Matt Bellamy (Muse)
I had to give an honorable mention to Matt, seeing as he's the NME readers' vote for greatest guitarist of all time. Frankly what did me in was this video - I'd never really thought of him as a great guitarist before. After all, we can all admit to recognizing some Muse songs by the riff, no?
10.9.10
How The Music We Listen To Shapes the Men Of Our Dreams
Think back to the frontmen you idolized as a teenager, the crooners who lulled you to sleep as a little girl. Chances are, if you're anything like me, they were great romantics. Did you grow up wanting to fall in love with Jim Morrison? I don't think any girl can say there wasn't at least one frontman she hoped to find a real life replica of, and we're not talking just for looks.
As far back as I can remember, I was listening to The Who, with Roger Daltrey belting out Townshend's and Entwhistle's heartbreaks. Perhaps the biggest sap of all time is Bono himself, a key piece in my childhood, and womanhood. He always seemed to have such a big heart - not just for Africa and the starving babies, but for the women in his life. I thought that, surely, all men are capable of loving so much.
One of my close friends used to be able to sleep as a child only if her grandad played Chris Isaak. As an adult, she still listens to him, and in fact turned me on to the man's soulful words. You can feel his guitar weeping, but what brings on the tears in your own eyes is his sadness, his pleading, how in love he always is with a girl who won't love him back in the same way. What kills you inside is how you know he'll fall in love again, despite how bad it hurts. He'll let another one torture him, because the payoff is worth the pain.
The ones who say "baby" always got to me the most. Jon Bon Jovi created entire songs around this concept, and knowing the weakness it is in women. You'd think a woman was singing the song below, but it's not. It's a guy at the end of his chain, willing to do anything to keep his girl. I guess he's really turned that way - the softest songs are the ones about his wife. But is the world filled with Jon Bon Jovis? No, and most men would be ashamed to be caught dead listening to such drivel, let alone acting that way. I have a few select guy friends who have no shame in admitting it. I also know how they're as connected to those songs through the hard times as I have been.
My teenage years were the most detrimental to my perception. I fell into Depeche Mode, Interpol, The Arcade Fire, HIM, the overall new insurgence of guys who weren't afraid to put their masculinity on the line and even sound like queers to write and sing about the deeper stirrings of their hearts. Those were also the years I started to learn that real men aren't like my British psuedo-idols, they aren't that passionate, that soft, that open. They generally really do care more about sex, status, and good times than anything emotional. Surely there are exceptions, but they are few and far between, and they're often hurt and turned bitter by the uncaring girls along the way who give womankind a bad name.
I often wonder how this shapes the men. Do they become the songs they listen to, grow up seeing them as words to live by? Does the subject matter inundating our society now affect that? When my older brother was a teenager, times had changed. Romance, even just the mere acceptance of men singing about it, had died. George Michael, Simon Le Bon and many of the other greats of the '80s had come out of the closet and changed the perception of what was "straight." Nirvana and the deep grunge phase of self-loathing and pity were in. For the first time, songs about abusing women, slapping them around, dirty rap about sex on the dance floor and life as a pimp, were going mainstream. What happened to the days when America wouldn't show Elvis below the waist, in fear his shaking hips would stir up the yearning loins of teenage girls?
I'm not saying you should base a guy's personality and inclination towards treatment of women on the music he listens to. I've known perfectly good guys who listened to Slipknot, and rather wretched ones who had a fetish for Five For Fighting. I'm probably not even hitting the nail on the head with this one. It's just a theory, that if what a woman expects, or sees men as being, can be affected by her exposure to lyrical material… surely a guy's behavior can be too? Or is this another chicken-before-the-egg type deal, where we just don't know - do they listen to what the do, because they're already turned a certain way and that's what they connect to? I'm sure the people who want to blame Marilyn Manson for strings of suicides and school shootings are still trying to figure that one out. Any of the lads want to give me their 2 cents? Try opening up and talking about it. I know you can do it.
As far back as I can remember, I was listening to The Who, with Roger Daltrey belting out Townshend's and Entwhistle's heartbreaks. Perhaps the biggest sap of all time is Bono himself, a key piece in my childhood, and womanhood. He always seemed to have such a big heart - not just for Africa and the starving babies, but for the women in his life. I thought that, surely, all men are capable of loving so much.
You can run from love
And if it's really love it will find you
Catch you by the heel
But you can't be numb for love
The only pain is to feel nothing at all
How can I hurt when I'm holding you?
-A Man And A Woman (2004)
And if it's really love it will find you
Catch you by the heel
But you can't be numb for love
The only pain is to feel nothing at all
How can I hurt when I'm holding you?
-A Man And A Woman (2004)
One of my close friends used to be able to sleep as a child only if her grandad played Chris Isaak. As an adult, she still listens to him, and in fact turned me on to the man's soulful words. You can feel his guitar weeping, but what brings on the tears in your own eyes is his sadness, his pleading, how in love he always is with a girl who won't love him back in the same way. What kills you inside is how you know he'll fall in love again, despite how bad it hurts. He'll let another one torture him, because the payoff is worth the pain.
Give me a sign and let me know we're through
If you don't love me like I love you
But if you cry at night the way I do I'll know that somebody's lying
-Somebody's Crying (1995)
If you don't love me like I love you
But if you cry at night the way I do I'll know that somebody's lying
-Somebody's Crying (1995)
The ones who say "baby" always got to me the most. Jon Bon Jovi created entire songs around this concept, and knowing the weakness it is in women. You'd think a woman was singing the song below, but it's not. It's a guy at the end of his chain, willing to do anything to keep his girl. I guess he's really turned that way - the softest songs are the ones about his wife. But is the world filled with Jon Bon Jovis? No, and most men would be ashamed to be caught dead listening to such drivel, let alone acting that way. I have a few select guy friends who have no shame in admitting it. I also know how they're as connected to those songs through the hard times as I have been.
If you don't love me - lie to me
'Cause baby you're the one thing I believe
Let it all fall down around us, if that's what's meant to be
Right now if you don't love me baby - lie to me
-Lie To Me (1995)
'Cause baby you're the one thing I believe
Let it all fall down around us, if that's what's meant to be
Right now if you don't love me baby - lie to me
-Lie To Me (1995)
My teenage years were the most detrimental to my perception. I fell into Depeche Mode, Interpol, The Arcade Fire, HIM, the overall new insurgence of guys who weren't afraid to put their masculinity on the line and even sound like queers to write and sing about the deeper stirrings of their hearts. Those were also the years I started to learn that real men aren't like my British psuedo-idols, they aren't that passionate, that soft, that open. They generally really do care more about sex, status, and good times than anything emotional. Surely there are exceptions, but they are few and far between, and they're often hurt and turned bitter by the uncaring girls along the way who give womankind a bad name.
I submit my incentive is romance
I watched the pole dance of the stars
We rejoice because the hurting is so painless
From the distance of passing cars
But I am married to your charms & grace
I just go crazy like the good old days
You make me want to pick up a guitar
And celebrate the myriad ways that I love you
Can you see what you've done to my heart
And soul?
This is a wasteland now
-Slow Hands (2005)
I watched the pole dance of the stars
We rejoice because the hurting is so painless
From the distance of passing cars
But I am married to your charms & grace
I just go crazy like the good old days
You make me want to pick up a guitar
And celebrate the myriad ways that I love you
Can you see what you've done to my heart
And soul?
This is a wasteland now
-Slow Hands (2005)
I often wonder how this shapes the men. Do they become the songs they listen to, grow up seeing them as words to live by? Does the subject matter inundating our society now affect that? When my older brother was a teenager, times had changed. Romance, even just the mere acceptance of men singing about it, had died. George Michael, Simon Le Bon and many of the other greats of the '80s had come out of the closet and changed the perception of what was "straight." Nirvana and the deep grunge phase of self-loathing and pity were in. For the first time, songs about abusing women, slapping them around, dirty rap about sex on the dance floor and life as a pimp, were going mainstream. What happened to the days when America wouldn't show Elvis below the waist, in fear his shaking hips would stir up the yearning loins of teenage girls?
I'm not saying you should base a guy's personality and inclination towards treatment of women on the music he listens to. I've known perfectly good guys who listened to Slipknot, and rather wretched ones who had a fetish for Five For Fighting. I'm probably not even hitting the nail on the head with this one. It's just a theory, that if what a woman expects, or sees men as being, can be affected by her exposure to lyrical material… surely a guy's behavior can be too? Or is this another chicken-before-the-egg type deal, where we just don't know - do they listen to what the do, because they're already turned a certain way and that's what they connect to? I'm sure the people who want to blame Marilyn Manson for strings of suicides and school shootings are still trying to figure that one out. Any of the lads want to give me their 2 cents? Try opening up and talking about it. I know you can do it.
24.6.10
Female Rock Stars I'd Rather Be
Here I am, wasting valuable time I should be studying for the Virginia State Board test on compiling a list of those I'd rather be. Surely, this says something about myself that I should recognize...
25. Carah Faye Charnow (Shiny Toy Guns)
Listen to: "Le Disko" (2005)
Life must've been great for Carah, up until Shiny Toy Guns released her from their sinking ship. Oh well, she's living it up in Sweden now with new band Versant.
24. Hayley Williams (Paramore)
Listen to: "crushcrushcrush" (2007)
All the teenage girls want to be Hayley, and all their boyfriends want to bang her. Why shouldn't I jump on the bandwagon too? Hey, I wouldn't turn down her paycheck, either.
23. Hoku
Listen to: "Another Dumb Blonde" (2000)
Despite having disappeared off the face of the world these days, it wouldn't have been bad to be Hoku in the early part of this decade. Anyone still remember the Legally Blonde soundtrack?
22. Amy Lee (Evanescence)
Listen to: "Call Me When You're Sober" (2006)
Amy is the gothic princess of this decade, and many other musicians and emotionally disturbed teenage girls have tried walking in her footsteps. Now if only she can stop sleeping with her bandmates and get on with this career.
21. Alison Mosshart (Dead Weather, The Kills)
Listen to: "Treat Me Like Your Mother" (2009)
Anyone who can hold their own in a band with Jack White gets bonus points from me.
20. Brandi Carlile
Listen to: "Follow" (2005)
What a way to escape Seattle... get found singing in a bar, sent on tour opening for Jamie Cullum, and next thing you know your songs are on Grey's Anatomy.
19. Feist
Listen to: "1234" (2007)
I think Feist's biggest claim to fame is being featured in an Apple commercial. Oh well, she's still hot.
18. KT Tunstall
Listen to: "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree" (2004)
I'd like to be KT just to play with all of her cool musical toys and have license to run around in leggings.
17. Aimee Mann
Listen to: "Pavlov's Bell" (2002)
The less-dike, more talented version of Melissa Etheridge. I love her.
16. Dolores O'Riordan (The Cranberries)
Listen to: "Zombie" (1994)
The voice just can't match the beauty of this Irish post-grunge goddess, who's managed to hold up a decent solo career as well.
15. Deborah Harry (Blondie)
Listen to: "Call Me" (1980)
Few beauties rivaled Debbie in the late 70s and 80s, and few still can. Suck it, Lady Gaga.
14. Eleanor Jackson (La Roux)
Listen to: "I'm Not Your Toy" (2009)
Proof that one CAN grow up in Brixton and live to tell the tale.
13. Imogen Heap (Frou Frou)
Listen to: "Let Go" (2002)
Haunting voice, talented lyricist, and a fashion sense almost rivaling Bjork. It's almost perfection, and she can thank her discovery to way more than Zach Braff featuring her in a movie.
12. Annie Lennox (Eurythmics)
Listen to: "A Whiter Shade Of Pale" (1995)
With an illustrious and long career, including such awards as an Oscar, AMA, Golden Globe and various BRITs and Grammys, Annie reigns in as worth twice her weight in gold. And who wouldn't give to age so well?
11. Katie White (The Ting Tings)
Listen to: "Shut Up And Let Me Go" (2009)
Being half the talent of a two-piece act and playing multiple instruments is no small feat, nor is pulling off her style.
10. Beth Gibbons (Portishead)
Listen to: "Roads" (1998)
To me, Beth Gibbons has always been the female Kurt Cobain... with a little less drama.
9. Neko Case (The New Pornographers)
Listen to: "People Got A Lot Of Nerve" (2009)
Gorgeous and versatile, with a beautiful voice.
8. Pink
Listen to: "So What" (2008)
Pink as a strong chick with a firm sense of self and no qualms about telling anyone off (especially through her music), even her scorned ex-husband. You go girl.
7. Nico (Velvet Underground)
Listen to: "Venus In Furs" (1960s)
An Andy Warhol star, model, and actress - the biggest downside to being Nico would be the final bicycle accident.
6. Fiona Apple
Listen to: "Criminal"
Seductress at heart, her voice moves slow like honey, her words wrapping around you and casting a spell that envelops the senses. She isn't half bad at the piano either.
5. Alice Glass (Crystal Castles)
Listen to: "Crimewave"
Ah, how fabulous it would be to look like her, to be that crazy and not get locked up...
4. Florence Welch (Florence & The Machine)
Listen to: "You've Got The Love" (2009)
How can she be so beautiful and yet look like a drag queen at the same time? Simply fabulous, darling. Simply fabulous.
3. Maja Ivaarson (The Sounds)
Listen to: "No One Sleeps When I'm Awake"
Men and women alike want this Swedish beauty. Her bandmates are hot, and her legs are hotter. Ugh. And did I mention her voice?
2. Lily Allen
Listen to: "Not Fair" (2008)
Ok, so she's not really a rock star, but she can sing - and really, who doesn't want to be (or in the case of the boys, be in bed with) Lily? Even Matthew Bellamy seems to have fallen for her charm. Probably the only woman alive who can make cursing like a sailor be deemed adorable, rip you apart yet make you think she's flirting with you, and start blogging wars with people more famous than her and get away with it. Ah, to live life as Lily Allen. Someone teach me how.
1. Karen O (Yeah Yeah Yeahs)
Listen to: "Zero" (2009)
I have a kink for leather jackets. Getting one with my name embossed on the back would just be radical. Beyond that, my list of pros in being Karen O goes on and on. She's my hero.
25. Carah Faye Charnow (Shiny Toy Guns)
Listen to: "Le Disko" (2005)
Life must've been great for Carah, up until Shiny Toy Guns released her from their sinking ship. Oh well, she's living it up in Sweden now with new band Versant.
24. Hayley Williams (Paramore)
Listen to: "crushcrushcrush" (2007)
All the teenage girls want to be Hayley, and all their boyfriends want to bang her. Why shouldn't I jump on the bandwagon too? Hey, I wouldn't turn down her paycheck, either.
23. Hoku
Listen to: "Another Dumb Blonde" (2000)
Despite having disappeared off the face of the world these days, it wouldn't have been bad to be Hoku in the early part of this decade. Anyone still remember the Legally Blonde soundtrack?
22. Amy Lee (Evanescence)
Listen to: "Call Me When You're Sober" (2006)
Amy is the gothic princess of this decade, and many other musicians and emotionally disturbed teenage girls have tried walking in her footsteps. Now if only she can stop sleeping with her bandmates and get on with this career.
21. Alison Mosshart (Dead Weather, The Kills)
Listen to: "Treat Me Like Your Mother" (2009)
Anyone who can hold their own in a band with Jack White gets bonus points from me.
20. Brandi Carlile
Listen to: "Follow" (2005)
What a way to escape Seattle... get found singing in a bar, sent on tour opening for Jamie Cullum, and next thing you know your songs are on Grey's Anatomy.
19. Feist
Listen to: "1234" (2007)
I think Feist's biggest claim to fame is being featured in an Apple commercial. Oh well, she's still hot.
18. KT Tunstall
Listen to: "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree" (2004)
I'd like to be KT just to play with all of her cool musical toys and have license to run around in leggings.
17. Aimee Mann
Listen to: "Pavlov's Bell" (2002)
The less-dike, more talented version of Melissa Etheridge. I love her.
16. Dolores O'Riordan (The Cranberries)
Listen to: "Zombie" (1994)
The voice just can't match the beauty of this Irish post-grunge goddess, who's managed to hold up a decent solo career as well.
15. Deborah Harry (Blondie)
Listen to: "Call Me" (1980)
Few beauties rivaled Debbie in the late 70s and 80s, and few still can. Suck it, Lady Gaga.
14. Eleanor Jackson (La Roux)
Listen to: "I'm Not Your Toy" (2009)
Proof that one CAN grow up in Brixton and live to tell the tale.
13. Imogen Heap (Frou Frou)
Listen to: "Let Go" (2002)
Haunting voice, talented lyricist, and a fashion sense almost rivaling Bjork. It's almost perfection, and she can thank her discovery to way more than Zach Braff featuring her in a movie.
12. Annie Lennox (Eurythmics)
Listen to: "A Whiter Shade Of Pale" (1995)
With an illustrious and long career, including such awards as an Oscar, AMA, Golden Globe and various BRITs and Grammys, Annie reigns in as worth twice her weight in gold. And who wouldn't give to age so well?
11. Katie White (The Ting Tings)
Listen to: "Shut Up And Let Me Go" (2009)
Being half the talent of a two-piece act and playing multiple instruments is no small feat, nor is pulling off her style.
10. Beth Gibbons (Portishead)
Listen to: "Roads" (1998)
To me, Beth Gibbons has always been the female Kurt Cobain... with a little less drama.
9. Neko Case (The New Pornographers)
Listen to: "People Got A Lot Of Nerve" (2009)
Gorgeous and versatile, with a beautiful voice.
8. Pink
Listen to: "So What" (2008)
Pink as a strong chick with a firm sense of self and no qualms about telling anyone off (especially through her music), even her scorned ex-husband. You go girl.
7. Nico (Velvet Underground)
Listen to: "Venus In Furs" (1960s)
An Andy Warhol star, model, and actress - the biggest downside to being Nico would be the final bicycle accident.
6. Fiona Apple
Listen to: "Criminal"
Seductress at heart, her voice moves slow like honey, her words wrapping around you and casting a spell that envelops the senses. She isn't half bad at the piano either.
5. Alice Glass (Crystal Castles)
Listen to: "Crimewave"
Ah, how fabulous it would be to look like her, to be that crazy and not get locked up...
4. Florence Welch (Florence & The Machine)
Listen to: "You've Got The Love" (2009)
How can she be so beautiful and yet look like a drag queen at the same time? Simply fabulous, darling. Simply fabulous.
3. Maja Ivaarson (The Sounds)
Listen to: "No One Sleeps When I'm Awake"
Men and women alike want this Swedish beauty. Her bandmates are hot, and her legs are hotter. Ugh. And did I mention her voice?
2. Lily Allen
Listen to: "Not Fair" (2008)
Ok, so she's not really a rock star, but she can sing - and really, who doesn't want to be (or in the case of the boys, be in bed with) Lily? Even Matthew Bellamy seems to have fallen for her charm. Probably the only woman alive who can make cursing like a sailor be deemed adorable, rip you apart yet make you think she's flirting with you, and start blogging wars with people more famous than her and get away with it. Ah, to live life as Lily Allen. Someone teach me how.
1. Karen O (Yeah Yeah Yeahs)
Listen to: "Zero" (2009)
I have a kink for leather jackets. Getting one with my name embossed on the back would just be radical. Beyond that, my list of pros in being Karen O goes on and on. She's my hero.
10.8.09
Depeche Mode - The Borgata, Atlantic City, NJ, USA - 1.8.2009
To quote one of my new friends from the gig, I finally "lost [my] Depeche Mode virginity." Apparently that, is something quite special. I have to agree now that it's all over.
The venue was the Event Center inside the Borgata, a typical upscale Atlantic City casino. Why the band always returns to such a small show that they can't possibly make much money on is beyond me. I am guessing that they enjoy the intimacy and change up from the big stadium tours. Either way, it's special from the fans, and they come out of the woodwork from all over to see it, much to the annoyance of the Borgata. I got there around noon; others had lined up from 5 am. You could see them wandering around hiding (and sleeping) behind signs, decked out in black and looking either morbid or anxious, I couldn't tell. Some were even brave enough to wear shirts from old tours past. Most didn't want to be too obviously given away to the staff, who's goal in life for that day was to run out anyone there for the gig before 6 pm.
I found a restraunt right at the bottom of the escalators up to the show. There was a little "outside" area and one open table, with a perfect view of everything. I had it in my head that I would just jump the surrounding fence to line up if all else failed, and we sat down to the longest meal of my life. At some point, the waitress figured out what we were doing, and stopped coming back. It went on like this for hours, with people slowly forming a line, being scuttled off by an aging security guard, lurking in the shadows again and starting all over. Finally he told people at 5 they could line up, and just as everyone slacks off, he comes back at 4:10 to place a rope in a spot mere feet from my table. People come flying over from all directions, and I was so taken by surprise I froze and let about 20 more people get in line before I figured out what to do. Forget the fact that we were all friends minutes before, or that we all knew who really got there first, it was cutthroat and everyone got angry. I ended up 70 people back, and when they came to randomly wristband people, my band ironically said just that.
Having lived the anger of that lineup situation once, I feel it deserves no more words. After being herded like sheep many times, we were stamped with invisible stamps, the doors opened, and people speed-walked (we were told not to run) to their favorite spots. As I watched the barrier in front of Dave fill up row by row, I knew I would never be front and center for this show, but I found an opening 2nd row by Martin, and it was mine. What a great place to be, Martin girls are so sweet. I couldn't complain, my first DM show wouldn't be thousands of people back in an arena, I was still close enough to feel the sweat. And sweat I certainly felt, my own. It had to have been 105 on the floor. The air was off to help save Dave's faltering voice, to good means I suppose as he lost it later on and dates had to be cancelled. With all the body head packed together and lack of air circulation, the temperature grew with nothing to help relieve it. People were passing out, despite the guards throwing mini bottles of water around now and then.
Peter Bjorn and John opened the show with a surprisingly extended set. After hearing them on the radio, I expected them to be quite boring. They were not. Even the next day, I had their songs as ear worms. Their sound is so haunting and frankly, just Scandinavian, it stuck with me. Live, they have some moves down. During one song, the bassist and lead singer switch instruments so that the bassist can leap into the crowd. Further on, during 'Young Kids', the singer hands the bassist his guitar and takes his turn jumping in. He ran along the barrier, waving a shaker in our faces. When he suddenly popped up inches away, I was mezmerized by his blue eyes, and we exchanged a smile. What amazed me the most about this, was how he didn't even miss a word while being folded like a pretzel by the guard getting him back onstage. I stupidly didn't snap a single photo during their set, and to my own comic relief, I didn't realize until later that the bassist's lisp upon speaking was actually a thick Swedish accent. I couldn't tell you where I had thought they were from.
Finally Depeche Mode comes out, but the crowd is too hot to really cheer a whole lot. The band opened with 'In Chains', the first song on the new album. I'm not sure it translates live as well as it could, and it's a little slow to open with. 'Wrong' wasn't as much of an anthemic live feature as I expected; 'Walking in My Shoes' lacked some of its old fervor. I could go on like this for awhile. Instead, I'm just going to blame the heat. The crowd just wasn't feeling it. Either way, the setlist was a good mix of old and new songs. It failed to represent every album over the years, but did a good job trying. It always comes to mind, what Fletch likes to say about their shows. The way Dave dances about, they just can't play for 3 hours, he would kill himself. He always tells us that they aren't The Cure, and that Robert Smith can do it because he stands in front of the microphone all night. Being a fan of many energetic bands, it makes perfect sense. As worn out as I get in the crowd, I can only imagine how they feel up there.
About halfway through the show, slightly more hydrated, people seemed to find more energy. Following Martin's solo set, Dave returning to do the vocals on his self-penned 'Come Back' leading into 'In Your Room', the place seemed to light up. 'I Feel You' was quite thumping, and Dave even managed to find his moves during 'Never Let Me Down Again' despite a torn calf muscle. It was about then that a group of fans pulled out printed up signs saying very Depeche words (such as "Faith") and the members' names. The cameraman beautifully caught this for the projections, and Dave and the others couldn't stop smiling about this.
Then, after a mere two-song encore containing 'Stripped' and 'Personal Jesus', they were done. A few people scrounged up a setlist and were quite disappointed about the songs that had been cut out. I was, too, for a bit before talking to someone on the crew. He gave me a setlist and said to hold onto it, as it was special. He explained to me about the venue having a curfew and fining ridiculous amounts of money for going over. I myself work at a venue with this rule, and understood completely. However, the sad thing is, a majority of the fans wanted to complain about how the band should've just payed the fine, played on anyways and suffered through for them. This was a big letdown for me, finding out that DM fans can be so filled with negativity. After everything this band has been through, and that they still tour, you'd think they would have earned a little more respect from their so called "fans." Again, I think of Fletch, saying that their message board is just "one long moan."
The show, for what it was, and all the un-luckiness of the tour, was quite good. Things didn't go exactly as planned, but I'm happy that I got to see them in such an intimate setting. In fact, I'm happy I got to see them at all, amongst all the people who didn't. I don't see the need to complain. The unhappiness of others, something that just isn't needed post-gig, has discouraged me from wanting to return to the setting of a Depeche gig anytime soon. As it is, there isn't much need, because the setlist and even the choreographed phrases and moves hardly change. I guess I need a little more. But I would never say I've been let down, I for one, have been fulfilled.
The venue was the Event Center inside the Borgata, a typical upscale Atlantic City casino. Why the band always returns to such a small show that they can't possibly make much money on is beyond me. I am guessing that they enjoy the intimacy and change up from the big stadium tours. Either way, it's special from the fans, and they come out of the woodwork from all over to see it, much to the annoyance of the Borgata. I got there around noon; others had lined up from 5 am. You could see them wandering around hiding (and sleeping) behind signs, decked out in black and looking either morbid or anxious, I couldn't tell. Some were even brave enough to wear shirts from old tours past. Most didn't want to be too obviously given away to the staff, who's goal in life for that day was to run out anyone there for the gig before 6 pm.
I found a restraunt right at the bottom of the escalators up to the show. There was a little "outside" area and one open table, with a perfect view of everything. I had it in my head that I would just jump the surrounding fence to line up if all else failed, and we sat down to the longest meal of my life. At some point, the waitress figured out what we were doing, and stopped coming back. It went on like this for hours, with people slowly forming a line, being scuttled off by an aging security guard, lurking in the shadows again and starting all over. Finally he told people at 5 they could line up, and just as everyone slacks off, he comes back at 4:10 to place a rope in a spot mere feet from my table. People come flying over from all directions, and I was so taken by surprise I froze and let about 20 more people get in line before I figured out what to do. Forget the fact that we were all friends minutes before, or that we all knew who really got there first, it was cutthroat and everyone got angry. I ended up 70 people back, and when they came to randomly wristband people, my band ironically said just that.
Having lived the anger of that lineup situation once, I feel it deserves no more words. After being herded like sheep many times, we were stamped with invisible stamps, the doors opened, and people speed-walked (we were told not to run) to their favorite spots. As I watched the barrier in front of Dave fill up row by row, I knew I would never be front and center for this show, but I found an opening 2nd row by Martin, and it was mine. What a great place to be, Martin girls are so sweet. I couldn't complain, my first DM show wouldn't be thousands of people back in an arena, I was still close enough to feel the sweat. And sweat I certainly felt, my own. It had to have been 105 on the floor. The air was off to help save Dave's faltering voice, to good means I suppose as he lost it later on and dates had to be cancelled. With all the body head packed together and lack of air circulation, the temperature grew with nothing to help relieve it. People were passing out, despite the guards throwing mini bottles of water around now and then.
Peter Bjorn and John opened the show with a surprisingly extended set. After hearing them on the radio, I expected them to be quite boring. They were not. Even the next day, I had their songs as ear worms. Their sound is so haunting and frankly, just Scandinavian, it stuck with me. Live, they have some moves down. During one song, the bassist and lead singer switch instruments so that the bassist can leap into the crowd. Further on, during 'Young Kids', the singer hands the bassist his guitar and takes his turn jumping in. He ran along the barrier, waving a shaker in our faces. When he suddenly popped up inches away, I was mezmerized by his blue eyes, and we exchanged a smile. What amazed me the most about this, was how he didn't even miss a word while being folded like a pretzel by the guard getting him back onstage. I stupidly didn't snap a single photo during their set, and to my own comic relief, I didn't realize until later that the bassist's lisp upon speaking was actually a thick Swedish accent. I couldn't tell you where I had thought they were from.
Finally Depeche Mode comes out, but the crowd is too hot to really cheer a whole lot. The band opened with 'In Chains', the first song on the new album. I'm not sure it translates live as well as it could, and it's a little slow to open with. 'Wrong' wasn't as much of an anthemic live feature as I expected; 'Walking in My Shoes' lacked some of its old fervor. I could go on like this for awhile. Instead, I'm just going to blame the heat. The crowd just wasn't feeling it. Either way, the setlist was a good mix of old and new songs. It failed to represent every album over the years, but did a good job trying. It always comes to mind, what Fletch likes to say about their shows. The way Dave dances about, they just can't play for 3 hours, he would kill himself. He always tells us that they aren't The Cure, and that Robert Smith can do it because he stands in front of the microphone all night. Being a fan of many energetic bands, it makes perfect sense. As worn out as I get in the crowd, I can only imagine how they feel up there.
About halfway through the show, slightly more hydrated, people seemed to find more energy. Following Martin's solo set, Dave returning to do the vocals on his self-penned 'Come Back' leading into 'In Your Room', the place seemed to light up. 'I Feel You' was quite thumping, and Dave even managed to find his moves during 'Never Let Me Down Again' despite a torn calf muscle. It was about then that a group of fans pulled out printed up signs saying very Depeche words (such as "Faith") and the members' names. The cameraman beautifully caught this for the projections, and Dave and the others couldn't stop smiling about this.
Then, after a mere two-song encore containing 'Stripped' and 'Personal Jesus', they were done. A few people scrounged up a setlist and were quite disappointed about the songs that had been cut out. I was, too, for a bit before talking to someone on the crew. He gave me a setlist and said to hold onto it, as it was special. He explained to me about the venue having a curfew and fining ridiculous amounts of money for going over. I myself work at a venue with this rule, and understood completely. However, the sad thing is, a majority of the fans wanted to complain about how the band should've just payed the fine, played on anyways and suffered through for them. This was a big letdown for me, finding out that DM fans can be so filled with negativity. After everything this band has been through, and that they still tour, you'd think they would have earned a little more respect from their so called "fans." Again, I think of Fletch, saying that their message board is just "one long moan."
The show, for what it was, and all the un-luckiness of the tour, was quite good. Things didn't go exactly as planned, but I'm happy that I got to see them in such an intimate setting. In fact, I'm happy I got to see them at all, amongst all the people who didn't. I don't see the need to complain. The unhappiness of others, something that just isn't needed post-gig, has discouraged me from wanting to return to the setting of a Depeche gig anytime soon. As it is, there isn't much need, because the setlist and even the choreographed phrases and moves hardly change. I guess I need a little more. But I would never say I've been let down, I for one, have been fulfilled.
4.8.09
Depeche Mode 1.8.2009 photos
I still need to write a proper review for the show, but for now I wanted to share the photos. I'm very happy with how most of these turned out.
Click on the title of this post to view a slideshow, or here to go directly into the photos. Feel free to save or repost, but do NOT claim them as yours or remove my signature.
Click on the title of this post to view a slideshow, or here to go directly into the photos. Feel free to save or repost, but do NOT claim them as yours or remove my signature.
29.7.09
Bon Jovi - Giants Stadium, East Rutherford, NJ, USA - 29.7.2006
I wondered why today I had a burning desire to listen to some Bon Jovi, after what must be months since I've put them on. I finally realized, it's been 3 years since one of the greatest shows of my life.
It's funny how these things happen, how you go into it blind and know you've hit it lucky. When tickets went on sale to this show, I didn't buy any, as I couldn't afford them. I sat there on Ticketmaster, watching good seats pass through my hands, and having to let them go. As time went on, I knew it was the last night of the tour, and something just screamed at me to go. When I found a fan selling a pair of 15th row floor seats at face value, I still couldn't afford them, but I emptied my rainy day fund anyways. At that moment in my life, I needed it. It turned out to be one of those things that all odds were against me doing, and yet I overcame.
The Yards, winners of the tour-long "Have A Nice Gig" contest, opened the show. I don't remember much about them, besides the fact the crowd was kind of dead. I imagine they were just happy for the exposure.
Next up, was Nickelback. They opened with Animals, their only song I give a damn about. I was surprised, actually. What a ballsy move to open your set with a song about a guy getting head while he drives, I thought. Turns out, it went on to be a single. I guess that's just how they roll. I obviously didn't know enough about Nickelback to know this. Overall, I thought they were too arrogant, and that almost all their songs sound the same. They're a little too "hard" and not "heavy" enough for me. The crowd's reception of them was mixed, which they didn't seem to appreciate. I remember one of them saying that next time, everyone would be in that stadium to see THEM open up. Uhhuh.
Seeing a band play their home town is always the best. Last nights of the tour are also either epic, or tragic. In this case, they were still running on the ultimate high. They played until nearly midnight, almost 3 hours. The setlist was 25 songs long, 8 in the encore alone.
Come to think of it, until about the 10th song, I was pretty disappointed and worried. It was a very standard setlist. Yeah, the crowd was great, and it was a high energy show, but they weren't playing anything special. When Jon came down the catwalk, barely a foot from me, I wouldn't even touch his outstretched hand, despite practically being thrown at him by the broad beside me. I was pouting.
Then they did Wildflower. I hadn't been checking setlists, so I didn't know it had already made a few appearances, but still a rare one. Hopes were up. Everything after that, was wham after wham. During Undivided, I watched the planes flying overhead, and realized just how close we were to where 9/11 took place (the subject of the song). Then they ended with Livin' On A Prayer, but we all knew it wasn't over.
The first song of the encore was I Am, my favorite song on the current album. The one that had never been played live before (nor since), that I never thought would be. Jon had lived up to his promise to play every song on 'Have A Nice Day' live. For once, he didn't let us down. I felt like I could die happy at that moment, everything after that was icing and cherries. They went on to do Blood On Blood, These Days (one of my favorite songs by any band), Wild Is The Wind, and I'd Die For You. The show ended with Wanted Dead Or Alive, and almost all save one song I had ever placed on my "Jovi setlist wish list" had just been ticked off. I was in shock, I was happy, I felt so lucky to have been able to experience this show. It was on par with what people travel to Japan or the UK/Europe to see them play, and I got it, 5 hours from home, with a little good luck and guesswork. Amazing.
(Please ignore the fact I look mad/exhausted in these...)
In reflection on all this, I wonder what happened to the band. I wonder why they had to go make country music, why they went back to terrible setlists, why they aren't closing out Giants Stadium and Springsteen is instead. I wonder what happened to my enthusiasm for big songs, big crowds, big bands. My ability to ignore the wank that always seems to follow. My dream to follow them around the world. I wish I could rediscover my love for Jovi. I wish I hadn't let others ruin it for me. They have a new album coming out soon, who knows what might happen. I have no expectations.
It's funny how these things happen, how you go into it blind and know you've hit it lucky. When tickets went on sale to this show, I didn't buy any, as I couldn't afford them. I sat there on Ticketmaster, watching good seats pass through my hands, and having to let them go. As time went on, I knew it was the last night of the tour, and something just screamed at me to go. When I found a fan selling a pair of 15th row floor seats at face value, I still couldn't afford them, but I emptied my rainy day fund anyways. At that moment in my life, I needed it. It turned out to be one of those things that all odds were against me doing, and yet I overcame.
The Yards, winners of the tour-long "Have A Nice Gig" contest, opened the show. I don't remember much about them, besides the fact the crowd was kind of dead. I imagine they were just happy for the exposure.
Next up, was Nickelback. They opened with Animals, their only song I give a damn about. I was surprised, actually. What a ballsy move to open your set with a song about a guy getting head while he drives, I thought. Turns out, it went on to be a single. I guess that's just how they roll. I obviously didn't know enough about Nickelback to know this. Overall, I thought they were too arrogant, and that almost all their songs sound the same. They're a little too "hard" and not "heavy" enough for me. The crowd's reception of them was mixed, which they didn't seem to appreciate. I remember one of them saying that next time, everyone would be in that stadium to see THEM open up. Uhhuh.
Seeing a band play their home town is always the best. Last nights of the tour are also either epic, or tragic. In this case, they were still running on the ultimate high. They played until nearly midnight, almost 3 hours. The setlist was 25 songs long, 8 in the encore alone.
Come to think of it, until about the 10th song, I was pretty disappointed and worried. It was a very standard setlist. Yeah, the crowd was great, and it was a high energy show, but they weren't playing anything special. When Jon came down the catwalk, barely a foot from me, I wouldn't even touch his outstretched hand, despite practically being thrown at him by the broad beside me. I was pouting.
Then they did Wildflower. I hadn't been checking setlists, so I didn't know it had already made a few appearances, but still a rare one. Hopes were up. Everything after that, was wham after wham. During Undivided, I watched the planes flying overhead, and realized just how close we were to where 9/11 took place (the subject of the song). Then they ended with Livin' On A Prayer, but we all knew it wasn't over.
The first song of the encore was I Am, my favorite song on the current album. The one that had never been played live before (nor since), that I never thought would be. Jon had lived up to his promise to play every song on 'Have A Nice Day' live. For once, he didn't let us down. I felt like I could die happy at that moment, everything after that was icing and cherries. They went on to do Blood On Blood, These Days (one of my favorite songs by any band), Wild Is The Wind, and I'd Die For You. The show ended with Wanted Dead Or Alive, and almost all save one song I had ever placed on my "Jovi setlist wish list" had just been ticked off. I was in shock, I was happy, I felt so lucky to have been able to experience this show. It was on par with what people travel to Japan or the UK/Europe to see them play, and I got it, 5 hours from home, with a little good luck and guesswork. Amazing.
(Please ignore the fact I look mad/exhausted in these...)
In reflection on all this, I wonder what happened to the band. I wonder why they had to go make country music, why they went back to terrible setlists, why they aren't closing out Giants Stadium and Springsteen is instead. I wonder what happened to my enthusiasm for big songs, big crowds, big bands. My ability to ignore the wank that always seems to follow. My dream to follow them around the world. I wish I could rediscover my love for Jovi. I wish I hadn't let others ruin it for me. They have a new album coming out soon, who knows what might happen. I have no expectations.
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