So we get to the show amble up to the front and WTF??? It looks like there's no photo pit. Upon closer inspection there is a barricade. It's about a foot wide. The security dudes tell us "you can get in if you fit in". This does not bode well. It's a tight fit and there's like nine other people jammed in there as well.
Yeah, so about ten of us jammed in there. JC's band equipment is packing up most of the stage so the opening band's gear is right up front. I'm inches away from the lead guitarist and I keep having to dodge his guitar neck. Thank god out of some miracle of foresight on my part I brought my ultra-wide angle lens.
The opening band. Funeral Party. Take equal parts 80's synth pop, emo whine, indie schlock, and sprinkle with copious amounts of 70's disco drumming and you have Funeral Party. It's an amalgam of sound and it doesn't sound good. Pick a lane buddy...
I head over to the Backstage Bar to grab a beer. The bar chick is awesome. She gives photographers employee discounts. $2.50 Lone Star tall boys. Normally they're $4.50. Quite a deal. I drink the beer and Funeral Party ends. I hurry back over and squeeze back into the "photo pit".
Here's where it gets horrible. The whole place is full of teenage hipsters who are all dressed like the decade of the 80's threw up all over them. I'm not kidding. So first thing that happens is a teenage girl who is standing behind me lets out an earsplitting shriek. I turn around and say "hey, my ear is right here." This only eggs her on. She's mad that I'm standing in front of her so she continues to shriek intermittently throughout the whole soundcheck. Which was an arduous 45 minute affair, by the way. Not only that, but between shrieks her and what I think was her boyfriend, (but he might have been her gay) babble incessantly about the most vapid shit. For instance, one topic of discussion for 10 minutes was "what if he pulls you up on stage? OMG!!! Wouldn't that just be insane? Like, no really. How crazy would that be???" Anyway. You get the point.
side note: I had a toothache all day and by the time I got to La Zona Rosa I had eaten a few codeine pills, downed a 60/40 and a Lone Star tall boy. I was feeling kinda weird.
Fast forward 45 minutes. Julian Casablancas takes the stage. The shrill shrieking sounds of countless boys and girls fill the place. The boy behind me keeps screaming "I LOVE YOU JC!!!". Hands are reaching out, groping me, grabbing me, prodding me, trying to get a touch of the illustrious JC. You would have thought the corpse of Elvis had been exhumed and reanimated for the '68 Comeback Special. It was that insane. Oh yeah, the shrieking girl was obsessed with touching JC, so whenever he came near I strategically blocked her. HAHA! Take that you teenage banshee.
So, where was I at? Oh yeah, the music. The band came out. There are like 4 guitar players and 100 million keyboards, etc. They rocked. Well, it wasn't bad. What I heard was some good guitar based rock with some indie and 80's pop mixed in to keep the kids happy. If someone GAVE me the CD I'd probably listen to it and it might grow on me after awhile. Who knows.
As far as performance goes. He kinda pulled off some kinda Iggy / Lou Reed sensual/angry thing which sent the kids into an orgiastic frenzy. From a photographer standpoint it was kinda sucky. He buried his face in the microphone and hid behind his hands. I managed to snap off some decent shots though.
All in all, it was an OK night.
No comments:
Post a Comment