[This is not going to be articulate, and I don’t care because I’m crying.]
When Henry and I first started dating, my favorite band was Cold. And by favorite, I mean that I would sob through their sets and be an emotional wreck for days after. The first road trip Henry and I ever took together was to Wisconsin, where they were performing a 30 minute set at a radio festival. It took us two days to get there and it was worth every fucking second, even when I cried for an hour on the way home and fought with Henry because he wouldn’t take me to Wisconsin Dells (this is totally one of those stories that will get passed on from generation to generation). We also saw them in Norfolk, Virginia and a million times here in Pittsburgh. And before Henry, there was my best guy-friend Wonka, and together we saw them together in Hershey, Columbus OH, and Buffalo. I still have the orange Starburst that Scooter Ward gave me before the show in Hershey, where we bonded over Robert Smith and I cried in his face. I keep it in the freezer every summer to keep it from melting.
The last time I had the chance to see them was April of 2004, and I was in a very bad place emotionally. I had written Scooter a letter, thanking him for his words and for always being there for his fans. Cold shows were one of the only times I felt I belonged somewhere, and I needed him to know that. But I couldn’t find the nerve to give him the letter. He was standing a few feet away from me before that show and I panicked. Henry, supportive boyfriend that he is, was so angry with me.
“Just give him the fucking letter! He’s right over there! No one’s even bothering him!” Henry doesn’t get it, that it’s not just some petty star-struck syndrome. It’s something more than that, something greater. It’s about being in the presence of someone who I know gets it, someone who I feel a connection with, even if I don’t know them personally. Someone who, in a strange and inexplicable way, was the only one there for me.
I remember wanting to go home. Doors hadn’t even opened yet and I was ready to surrender and just walk away. I knew that I was going to walk inside that venue, the now-defunct Rock Jungle, and lose my shit like I always did when they took the stage. But Henry convinced me to stay, and once inside, he swiped the letter from me and hand-delivered it to Sam, the drummer. Henry wasn’t happy about it, because it made him feel lame, like he was passing notes in high school. But it made me feel like a weight had been lifted.
The next time they went on tour, I was pregnant and knew it would be a bad idea, so I didn’t go to any of the shows.
Unfortunately, they broke up soon after that, and I had always regretted that I missed what could have been my last chance to see them. I knew that Scooter was going through some shit, and I was worried that he wouldn’t bounce back, that the scene would take away another underrated, amazingly talented and inspirational man.
In October, my friend Jenny texted me, alerting me that they had reunited. I will never forget where I was — in line for Cheeseman’s Haunted Hayride. It was one of the best nights ever.
And that’s how Henry and I ended up in Cleveland last night, watching them live at the House of Blues. For the first time in five years. FIVE YEARS and they still rip my heart right through my fucking ribcage.
I think my favorite part of the night, and the only part where my face wasn’t wet, was when Henry lost his cell phone. We were sitting upstairs, and had switched seats three times because Henry is a fucking retard and kept choosing inappropriate seats. (He was happy to be seeing a band with an older fanbase, where sitting down didn’t call forth the Old Person spotlight.) So in our last seat switch, he reached down and noticed his cell phone was missing. “That’s what you get for clipping it on your belt like an asshole,” I scoffed. Within seconds, people around us noticed that something was amiss, and a small search party had spontaneously formed. I couldn’t call his phone, because I had no service (I found out a few minutes later that it was only in the exact spot I was sitting, and that if I moved my arm to the left, it worked, but owellz0rz Henry), so some dude was all, “Hey bud, I am old too like you so I want to come to your aid. Here, please use my phone to locate your own!” And Henry was all, “OMG thank you, Hot Older Guy!” and then tried in vain to tuck in his Fellow Oldie boner.
Anyway, the man two seats down from me had been sitting on it, so he handed it over and everyone had a good chuckle. I continued sitting there as I had been all along, rolling my eyes. Seriously, there were at least seven to nine people scrambling around, looking under seats, and scratching their temples, but I was not one of them.
Girlfriend of the year!
I know, right – where’s the climax to THAT story?
The opening band -Drama Club – came on around 8. I was a little ambivalent about them. The singer sounded like he was trying to come across way more glam than he was, but then some of the band members looked like they were on the cusp of being scene yet stuck in a decidedly non-scene band. I didn’t mind them, but I wasn’t riveted. It made me miss the energy of younger crowds at post-hardcore shows and this is no joke, there was a fleeting moment when I imagined I was in the middle of a scene kid group hug. I made the mistake of telling Henry after Drama Club’s set and he of course was annoyed.
[Music geek side note: there were several moments when the singer of Drama Club sounded vaguely familiar to me, and then he mentioned that they’re from Wilkes-Barre, PA. I thought to myself, “Huh. I wonder if that’s the dude from Lifer” because how many bands are actually from Wilkes-Barre, and it totally is; he just dyed his hair black and became fey. The whole way home, I kept bragging to Henry about being a music genius and I think he wanted to dickslap me. Now I’m nostalgic for Lifer.]
The next band was the Killer and the Star, Scooter’s side project which currently features Rocky Gray (ex-Evanescence) and Michael Harris (Idiot Pilot). Scooter sat down at his piano and by the time the second word was sung, my cheeks were salty. I didn’t even try to stop it, I know a thing or two about futility. But sitting there, listening to these beautiful songs, it made me angry that he doesn’t get more respect, that some people think “Just Got Wicked” or “Stupid Girl” is the extent of what he has to offer, when his songwriting weaves the perfect blend of melancholy, angst, and aggression, the resulting product something I can’t even put a label on. Call Cold nu-metal if you want, but there’s depth there in the music and the lyrics. A lot of it. And this new project is the perfect vessel for him to scream “LOOK AT WHAT I CAN DO!” Killer and the Star is still slightly heavy but Scooter’s piano-playing and soulful vocals (he sings differently with this band) bring a bluesy element to the plate, making it impossible to compare it to anything else.
“Hallelujah” was my favorite song, and Michael Harris was amazing to watch on stage. The vocals he provided melted with Scooter’s and I kind of couldn’t handle it. I imagine it’s what church-y people feel like on Sundays – goosebumps, tear-stung eyeballs, and involuntary shudders. The hairs on my arms were erect. (ERECT.)
I really was so unsure that I would ever get to hear this man sing live again, and to have him there, mere feet away, it made me appreciate him so much more. After that set, I looked at Henry and whispered, “I’m not so sure I can handle this.”
“Yes you can,” he said, and gave me a patronizing back-pat. My man.
I distracted myself by hating the Southern drawlers behind me, one of which was wearing some nasty patchouli/ash concoction that buffeted me every time she came back from getting a beer. Then I noticed one of the stage guys propping a bust of Michael Myers on top of one of the speakers and I felt giddy. Terry Balsamo used to come out on stage wearing a Michael Myers mask, but he quit doing that sometime after they stopped touring for 13 Ways To Bleed On Stage. And then he left to play for Evanescence, but that’s all I’ll say about that, otherwise I’ll get angry.
Before Scooter came back out with Cold, there was a little tribute video that was played on the big screen in front of the stage, recapping Cold’s journey to get where they are now, starting in the early nineties when they were Grundig. And even that proved to be a test for my tear ducts.
This is the first time the original 5-man lineup has been back together in something like five years. In fact, the last time I saw them live, it was the new lineup and it felt so strange and unfamiliar, like the first holiday after a family member dies.
I would love to go through every song they played, giving you objective thoughts and reviews based on technical merit and sound quality, but the truth is, I’m still an emotional wreck. Today, I was still crying as I recounted the show to a friend on the phone. I still got choked up when I said, “Scooter seems happier now,” because while I don’t know him personally, I care about him very hard. To see him on stage, in his glory, in his element – it was fantastic. And he is so humble, pausing to thank his fans after every song. A middle-aged woman with spiky red hair and clothes too tight for her age, yelled, “No, thank YOU!” and I thought to myself, “Hey old broad, you might be too old to get away with wearing that studded belt that I know you think you’re rocking, but Amen.” But then I secretly wished she’d fall over the balcony, because fuck, she was annoying.
The show was like being home again.
I didn’t talk.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t move, apart from a few feeble attempts at applause.
I just sat there, motionless, and, with a few friendly reminders to breathe, I let my heart melt. It is agony at times, running this psychotic gamut of emotions, like swishing hot tea over a toothache – painful but it feels so fucking good.
On the way to the car, I looked at Henry and tried to talk but all that came out was audible sobs (Henry’s instinct was to ignore me and ask aloud, “I wonder which way I should go to get out of here” as he left the parking garage, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a greater scope to that question). I felt emotionally exhausted, drained, numb, but 100% willing to do it again, like, right now.
You can make fun of me for crying. You can tell me that Cold is so 2002. You can tell me to get a life. But the one thing I know for sure is that, no matter how much it hurts, I would rather feel this than nothing at all. And if, someday, music stops making me feel that way? Well, why bother.
I’d sit here and tell you how much I know how you feel, but you already know that. If nothing else, our virtual friendship has been based on the fact that we have a similar deep-down heart-wrenching love for music and the bands that make it.
Your concert experience sounds so awesome and I’m so happy that you got to see them again. That must have been insanely exciting.
And the whole part about you writing a letter to Scooter thanking him almost brought tears to MY eyes, because it totally reminded me of when I wrote an email to the boys at MCR saying the same things. It makes me sad, and it makes me ache to know that I’ll never get the chance to really know them… to hang out with them and just be able to let them know how much they mean to me… But hell, they really do make me feel like they understand me. They really do “get it” like you said.
So yeah. Babbling fool, I am. I’m so happy you enjoyed your show. And I would NEVER. EVER. make fun of you for crying at a show!
I am so glad you took the time to leave this comment. You always make me feel validated, like I’m not some dumb girl. I think it would be so awesome if someday we got to go to a show together!
How kick ass would that be?? Someday, we totally should. :D And you’re quite welcome. I get so excited reading your posts about music and shows, because you’re the first person I’ve ever met who is so emotional over it, like me. I love it!
P.S. Thank you for that email with the link for the music – I’m so checking that out in a few!
I can’t judge you for crying. I cried at the SPICE GIRLS concert, erin. THE SPICE GIRLS.
…The less-shameful detail of that story was that it ruined my makeup (no, I’m not joking)
the point is (and there was one) that music is friggin awesome. And you fall into the category of awesome people who can be truly touched and respond to someone else’s art. their being able to move you so deeply is a great thing, really.
it’s so awesome you got to experience this and I am one happy bitch for you :D
There you go, making me love you even more!
woo!!! treat me to lavish gifts!!!
We’re playing ‘leading ladies’ over at m livejournal and I really think you should come play!
thank you for writing this.
It was hard:(
I’ve cried at Blink shows. I have that picture of me and Tom, I wrote all over the back of a 8×10 print and gave it to Lil Chris (one of Travis Barker’s guys, died in that plane crash, RIP) and begged him to deliver it to Tom. I don’t know if he ever got it, but I like to think he did.
Dyanna´s last blog post..Almost Finished!
I hope he did.
“I imagine it’s what church-y people feel like on Sundays – goosebumps, tear-stung eyeballs, and involuntary shudders.”
i love this statement, though i know a LOT of church-y people whose love for god isn’t NEAR as real as your love for cold and scooter and music in general.
i just watched the killer and the star video…
ok. yeah. THAT’S emotion.
I don’t connect with people very often, if at all, so to get to have that with SOMETHING – it’s really important to me.
And I feel like the older I get, the less I can relate to people my age. So it’s even more important to me now. And the rare chance I get to make a new friend who feels the same, it’s something I value even more now, if that makes sense.
I feel the same way whenever I see Ben Folds play. I nearly had a breakdown when I heard that Ben Folds Five were getting back together for one night in Chapel Hill and I couldn’t go. :o(
Isn’t it amazing how someone you don’t really even know personally can change your life completely and seem to connect with you on a much deeper level than most other people? I love that about music. :o)
I can’t get your videos at work (f-ing chemists blocking our social networking sites), but I can’t wait to watch them when I get home!
Glad you had a good time!
See? This makes me like you even more now! I think experiences like this are so personal, and it’s hard and slightly embarrassing for me to write about it, because it’s so intimate. I can write about any other detail of my life and not bat an eye, but this — it makes me blush, like someone found my paper diary.
So when I do get the nerve to share this, it makes it worth so much more when even ONE person comments to say that they get it, and then share their own experience. So thank you for telling me about Ben Folds!
I’m glad it was everything you wanted. :)
They’re supposed to tour again in October. Hopefully they’ll come through Pittsburgh and we can go!
Yay! That’d be awesome!
“It’s something more than that, something greater. Being in the presence of someone who I know gets it, someone who I feel a connection with, even if I don’t know them personally. Someone who, in a strange and inexplicable way, was the only one there for me.”
So far, only you and Jenny get that part.
“I think my favorite part of the night, and the only part where my face wasn’t wet, was when Henry lost his cell phone.”
That part made me laugh.
I would save such a Starburst, too. Perhaps I have already saved far more embarrassing items. I’m so glad the letter somehow DID get to the band. Writers, performers, they like to know that they have connected with their audience.
D’oh, I thought I had replied to this already!
There are few people in my life who get that, too, and I am fortunate that you and Jenny are two of them.
I hope that someday we can see the Cure together. I think that would be the best Cure experience ever!
I felt the same exact way when I was at Fuel concerts. Hell, I even cried at a few of them, so I can’t judge you for that! Carl Bell knows how to frickin’ read my every emotion. It’s been a little over a year since I saw them last, but I remember every concert of theirs that I’ve been to like yesterday. The thing is, I doubt that they’re reuniting any time soon. =*(
I’m happy that you got to see Cold again. It’s amazing when you find a band that “gets it” about you through their lyrics. =)
I’m so sorry I dropped the ball on replying to you!
Thank you for sharing your story here with me. I know how much you love Fuel and I think it is awesome that you have something like that in your life. It’s important. I like Fuel a lot — their first album, anytime I hear a song from it, I think about the best summer of my life (1998) and I get so overwhelmed with emotion. Fuel is a super great band and it’s a shame that Brett left. I haven’t heard any of the stuff they did with the new singer — do you like it?
No worries. =D I’m trying to clear out my emails and it gets hard to do that sometimes! Haha.
No problem. They haven’t really done much as of late…apparently there’s legal issues with them finding a new record label, so they sorta dropped off the radar for a while.
The stuff with Toryn is okay, but it’s nowhere near Brett’s caliber.
I am looking for an old mtv concert of colds. I dont remember the series name but it was the first time I saw and heard them. It was quite an experience. I can only tell you the drummer had a leopard dye job I think and the guitarist was wearing a michael myers mask.
Hi there Martin!
I think I know the concert you’re talking about, but I can’t find it anywhere online. If Terry was wearing a Michael Myers mask, it was probably from somewhere between 2001-2002, maybe even 2003.
Have you tried asking someone in the Cold Army forum? http://www.coldarmy.com/ Someone there might have a copy of it. Hope you find it!
It might not have been Mtv as I have found an old video of them on You Tube posted as a HBO Reverb concert. Man… why, why, why didn’t I record that lol. I’ll hit up the Cold Army like you suggested. Thanks for the reply, take care :)