Monday, June 12, 2006

I am that fanatic

I've been to batches of shows where I sorta knew the band and upon entering their concert world found myself next to that fanatic who, alone among the hoards of novices like myself, was a true fan. You know who I am talking about, this person knows all the lyrics to all the songs and dances like a dervish for 93% of the show and basically makes you feel like you either don't quite get it or that they have a better dealer than you. In San Diego so many of the shows are marred by stupid crowds who have only showed up because some radio whores told them to and therefore they only know the encore song and maybe two other "deep tracks." The energy of such events tends to be flawed. The societal restraints are still firmly in place, and the eyes overpower the ears, pulchritude winning over orgiastic release. If your lucky there's pulchritude at these things.

Being a fanatic has its rewards. Half way into Eagles of Death Metal's set at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland, Oregon, my wife grabbed the hips of the teenager in front of her (brought to the event by his Zorba the Greek grandfather) and started shaking some life into the rigid little putz. My friends wife swung in front of the little fellow and shook her experience right at him, and the two basically gave him a dose of "the ladies" as frontman Jesse Hughes constantly reminds the crowd is the reason for these rocknroll events. Our little trio had escaped propriety and we were just going nuts, and it struck me that I could care less that most of the capacity crowd was three levels lower than us. They aren't all looking at you. Just remember that.

Final point: When the third song triggered the beefy dickheads to fight forward in an attempt to make a manpit, Hughes himself aimed the bouncers to rip their violent asses out of the show, all while finishing the song. And then before the next number, like a leader, pointed out that some "ladies" had been bounced about and this was certainly uncool. A fucking pro, and a gentlemen. Get that last drunk asshole off the dance floor.

2 comments:

ibfamous said...

thanks alot, that last drunk asshole was my ride and i had to chat up some fat broad just to get home.

VSK said...

Hey famous at least you got home!!

That was a great night! Walking home after was the icing, and the sex later, the cherry.