So we finally get to the site, and it is basically a fence around an open field with one massive permanent stage, several mobile stages and tons of booths selling band merchandise and concessions. Oh, and a skate ramp for pro skaters to do tricks on, but that is irrelevant to this story. While waiting to get into the park, I get to do some people watching, and I learned quickly the adhesive magic egg whites perform on hair.
A quick note on the set up of the main stage. In order to keep the show on schedule, the stage was split in the middle by a giant stack of amps. one half of the stage was always being set for the next group while the current band played on the other half. It ran like clockwork.
When we finally get in, my buddy and I head straight to the main stage. It's 11:15 am and the 1st band is almost done with their set. The first thing I notice is that punk music is supposed to be listened to live. I forget the name of the band, but I remember being surprised at the energy they brought to the stage, especially before noon. The next band up I do remember. It was a female fronted band called Tsunami Bomb, and they were pretty great. Since it was early, I got all the way to the front row and got to shake hands with the lead singer. It marked the first and only time I've had a crush on a musician. She was crazy cute with funky pink highlighted hair, and she gave off a very energetic and positive vibe.
So after the lovely lady punk finished, My attention was drawn to the left hand stage where a band of filthy men in dirty white t-shirts was ready to play. This would be Andrew W.K. If you don't know what Andrew W.K. sounds like, picture the happiest music you've ever heard channeled through metal guitars and sung by a demon. It was the musical equivalent of adding habanero pepper to dark chocolate, but in a good way. It was also my introduction to the mosh pit. While Andrew jumped around the stage dancing like a lunatic and telling everyone how much he loved them, I jumped around like a lunatic in the gentlest mosh pit ever. The nice mid-western punks kids made a circle (like you do) and we all jumped around inside, crashing into each other as politely as possible. It also may have been that it was just now noon, and most of the crowd was still waking up. If anyone ever fell down, three people grabbed them and pulled them up so the party could continue. My day was already turning out much differently than I had thought. These were not a bunch of anoying losers listening to crappy music. These were a bunch of nice, cool kids (for the most part) dancing to high energy, positive punk rock.
Up next were the Mad Caddies, a fantastic ska-punk band with a burly lead singer parading around stage slapping his belly (it was more fun than it sounds, I promise)
About halfway through their set, I realized we were being invaded by an army. I turned around to see a sea of Black and Green, with huge banners held high. Who could be playing next that inspired such rabid devotion? I looked at the big board with the list of bands, somebody called the Dropkick Murphys was up next. What was this all about?
It turns out that the Dropkick Murphys are a high octane Irish punk band from Boston, and holy crap do they put on a show. The experience of watching this band play in front of their fans is kind of like being in the coolest cement mixer ever.
Up next was a band named Thrice, but I can't tell you how they were though because after two plus hours in front of the middle stack of speakers, I could no longer differentiate sounds. So after the set, it was time to take a break and refuel.
On a side note, punk fans do not always bathe, and this can be a problem when you stand in the sun on a giant concrete slab in July with a few thousand of them. Thankfully, the security crew did something amazing. They hosed down the crowd. Nothing makes you forget the fat sweaty guy rubbing against you like a shot of water hose to the face.
After a couple hours of food eating and CD buying, it was time to get back to the main stage to see this AFI band I'd heard so much about. As the band before them started their set, the once blue sky had gotten quite cloudy, so the crew set about covering all amps in plastic and waterproofing the stage. The band before AFI finishes, and the sky has gotten scary dark. Then I see this band of guys dressed in black with black hair and black eye makeup and pasty white skin come out on stage. They start to play their first song, a slow, doomy intro song, that increases to a fantastic creshendo. The crowd has become a sea of kids in black screaming as loud as I ever ever heard. The tension builds and builds until Davey Havok, the lead singer walks out onstage looking like Alice Cooper's bastard child. The band hits a monster cord has Davey jumps in the air like David Lee Roth, and, as if on cue, the skies open up and pour down upon us. The crowd and the band are like a single, seething entity screaming as one. The rain pounds the sweltering concrete and sweaty crowd and causes a fog of steam to rise above our heads as Davey walks into the audience, held up by his rabid fans, and shows everybody what a real rock star looks like. My little mind is officially blown. I am shrieking and singing words to a song I don't even know. Once the set is done, everyone is screaming so long they have to wait for the poor schlubs who have to follow them. The rain stops before the next band starts and the sky is sunny by the time the Ataris start playing after them.
Although it was still early in the evening, AFI had wiped us out and it was time to go home. But was a day I'll never forget.
I think that's quite enough for now, Up next: how curling caused me to stop writing in my blog.
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