Music: The Pre Concert Build-up

I remember my dad telling me not to get too excited. I was bouncing with energy as we drove to the House of Blues in Cleveland. I remember him telling me that there were only two members left out of the original five. Even so, how could i NOT bounce with energy? My excitement for this concert had been building for weeks, and i was just about to explode. We were on our way to see the New York Dolls.

The Dolls had just reformed with their three living members the year before for a festival in England. Since that time, original bassist Arthur Kane died of leukemia, leaving only frontman David Johansen and rythym guitarist Sylvain Sylvain left. The two found new members, and decided to set off on a U.S. tour. Nearly 30 years after they broke up, the New York Dolls, were touring. It can be argued whether or not the Dolls were punk or glam, but to me they were icons. Johnny Thunders died long ago, and the passing of Arthur "Killer" Kane was still fresh on everyone's minds, but could these New York Dolls we were going to see on stage really be THE New York Dolls that I had heard on cd and in my head? Or, were we going to see a couple old guys play their hits with a young backing band? My dad didn't want to see me disapointed, and tried to warn me. But I was young and couldn't possibly imagine the show not living up to my expectations.

What my father and I witnessed, we still talk about to this day. The show was nothing like either of us had preparred ourselves for. It was possibly one of the greatest sets either of us has ever seen preformed live. There was no mistake. This was not some band just going through the motions, trying to relive the glory days. They were for real. The band was smooth and cohesive when they needed to be, and rough around the edges at all the right parts. They kicked ass. They played fast and hard. They were the New York fucking Dolls.

Fast forward a few years to 2008. The lineup for Lollapalooza is released, and one headliner makes my jaw drop: Rage Against the Machine. This is a band I missed the boat on, and didn't become a fan of until after they had broken up. I never thought I would get a chance to see them live. Here was my chance.

The plan was set: my friend Jordan and I would meet up in Chicago and go to Lollapalooza for the sole purpose of seeing Rage. Yes, there were other bands we wanted to see, and even preformances I still talk about to this day (Louis XIV, Butch Walker, Brand New, The Ting-Tings), but we would not have even considered going if it wasn't for Rage. They were scheduled to headline Day 2. So we got to the stage they would be playing on before noon, and camped all day. Waiting. We would move closer every so often, making friends with those around us, also waiting for Rage. It must have been over 90 degrees. 45 minutes before Rage was set to go on, I got that feeling... I had to go to the bathroom. I hadn't gone all day, and I'd been trying to stay hydrated. So I did what any loyal fan would do. I stuck an empty bottle down my pant leg, peed in the bottle, screwed the cap on, dropped the bottle on the ground, and kicked it forward into the crowd of people... all while standing shoulder-to-shoulder, packed in like sardines.

Their preformance that night was like none other. They played the songs I knew and loved to perfection. Clearly, the band had not lost a step since they had been broken up. It was the most electrifying show I've ever seen. Seriously, I have never left a concert with my heart pounding and blood pumping as fast as it was after seeing Rage Against the Machine. As we left Grant Park, making our way to the train back to the hotel, fans were still screaming and cheering through the streets of Chicago. The yells echoed off the buildings all through the area. It was an incredible atmosphere. The air was humming with energy. It was a surreal experience all together. I will never forget it.

My love for Rage Against the Machine, spawned my intrest for their guitartist, Tom Morello's solo career. His music, even though acoustic is usually not my cup of tea, strikes something deep inside me. It is a similar feeling to when I listened to London Calling by the Clash for the first time. The political angst, social unrest, and disgust of greed are all ideas I can easily get behind. Morello has toured for his solo project, calling himself The Nightwatchman, multiple times, but always opening for someone bigger, who demands a hefty ticket price. I began to doubt if I would ever get a chance to see Morello's Nightwatchman material.

In addition to this, It has been announced that Tom Morello is creating, and writing a comic book to be released this October. I won't get sidetracked by discussing the details, but I will say that the more I learn about Tom Morello, the musicians that inspired him, what his passions are, and the professional goals he has, are very similar to my own. As cheesy as it is, I want to see him succeed, because that would mean that some of my dreams are attainable, and would serve as motivation for me to continue to work towards them.

Yesterday, I learned that Tom Morello, The Nightwatchman, will be headling the Grog Shop in Cleveland, OH with guest Tim Mcilrath (lead singer of Rise Against). ...I've never been this excited for a concert before.

Music: NKOTBSB at Quicken Loans Arena 7-27-11

The problem with marrying someone with a diverse taste in music is that you must take the good with the bad. On the night of our first anniversary, instead of listening to the new release by Flogging Molly, I found myself listening to 21 by Adele during our romantic dinner at home. While my wife has been known to sing along to Rancid with me, she will also sing along to Ingrid Michelson (usually alone). Together, we have seen The Offspring, Dropkick Murphys, Cake, The Flobots (twice), and even a taste of the local punk rock scene with First Offense, as well as many other, lesser known, bands. For all the concerts I’ve taken my wife to, simply because I wanted someone to go with, I suppose I owe her a concert or two of her own choosing. This is how I found myself at a New Kids On The Block and Backstreet Boys concert.

She had never been to a concert until she met me, so she never got a chance to see her teeny-bopper idols, the Backstreet Boys, live, in the height of their popularity. When tickets went on sale last winter, we were preparing for the birth of our daughter. We both knew our priorities would drastically change after she was born, limiting the number of concerts we attend. So we bought tickets for this show well in advance while we had the extra money. So far this year, since the birth of our daughter, I have missed concerts by Dropkick Murphys, Rise Against, Bad Religion, Local H, Flogging Molly, and I will most likely miss Tom Morello opening up for Incubus. Never the less, here I am, seeing the Backstreet Boys. (Don’t feel too bad for me, I’m going to Lollapalooza as a birthday present.)

Clearly, I knew most of the crowd would be female, but I was not prepared for the sheer volume of 25-40 year old women trying to relive the glory days of their youth. The safe money says most of the clothing worn this evening was pulled from the back of the closet, dusted off, and worn for the first time in 10-20 years. But this night wasn’t about looking trendy or fashionable. This was about swooning over the boys (men?) on stage. To these women, this night was about casting aside their adult lives, going back in time, and indulging in their teenage selves for just a few hours.

The tour was called NKOTBSB. The bands took turns singing songs. Occasionally they would share the stage at the same time, but for the most part each band would sing 2 or 3 songs in a row then go backstage, letting the other band preform. The transitions were well done, giving both bands numerous epic entrances. Just because something is executed well doesn’t mean it was good.

From the eyes of this punk, the concert sucked. The light show was impressive, never reusing the same effects, always changing it up. And the indoor fireworks were cool. Indoor fireworks are always cool. But the music, the eye candy for the ladies, and the 10-minute break during the show where each band member personally introduced and complimented a member of the opposite band… it was all pretty awful. Every crotch grab, every torn shirt, every pelvic thrust; I just shook my head while every woman in attendance (my wife included) shrieked for more. The crown jewel of these moments came when a member of one of the bands (I honestly have no idea which one) unloaded a barrage of 10 pelvic thrusts in a row. In unison with his 10^th thrust, fireworks erupted. It was somehow awesome, in its own cheesy, over the top, kind of way. I want my pelvic thrusts to trigger fireworks.

As New Kids prepared for their encore; the intro to a song that I instantly knew started. That drum beat. That mandolin. It was “Shipping Up To Boston” by Dropkick Murphys (F.Y.I., New Kids On The Block are from Boston. I know, “who cares,” right? But this part of the concert makes more sense knowing this). At first I was worried they would attempt to do their own version of the song, ruining something I loved in the process. Fortunately the intro was only played to build momentum for the encore. When the lights came on, there was the band, dressed in Boston Celtics jerseys. In the Q, they had the audacity to wear Celtics jerseys!? As I took a deep breath to begin booing, all the ladies in the house beat me to it. Only they didn’t boo. They welcomed their idols to the stage despite the green jerseys. The Backstreet Boys joined them on stage for the finale. They were decked out in their own Orland Magic jerseys. I was disgusted, and the women continued to swoon.

The show ended and I turned to my smiling wife. Seeing them was everything she hoped it would be. She had a great time: mission accomplished. Even though I recognized way too many songs for me to feel good about myself, I felt like one song was missing. So, I asked my wife, “Why didn’t they sing “Bye, Bye, Bye”? Wasn’t that one of their hits?” Apparently that was ‘N Sync, not the Backstreet Boys. I didn’t know, and I’m glad I didn’t know.