**WARNING: Lots of words about bands and music ahead. Maybe there might be something you like though, so you should give it a chance. It’s 2016! You never know!**

It’s not that I don’t look forward to every show I attend, but the last few months have been excruciating waiting to see Citizen. I’ve been listening to them a ton since summer and this tour lineup was golden, start to finish. Originally, I was going to go by myself, which is no big deal but this show was at the Altar Bar and the vibe there always brings me down when I’m alone. I can’t really put my finger on it, but somehow that place is a magnet for assholes and I almost always have a problem with someone. And I knew I was going to have to stand on the balcony on account of my old lady brittle bones, which meant I was going to be surrounded by the drunk assholes who shout to their friends over top of the music. And what’s  more annoying than paying money to see one of your favorite bands when you can’t escape banal conversation?

Mr. Smalls > Altar Bar, forever.

Anyway, on Monday—two days before the show—I twisted Henry’s arm hard enough* that he conceded. Thank god too, because I had already bought his ticket, ha.

*IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Before the show, we had a quick dinner at Thin Man Sandwich Shop. I had that grilled ricotta chiesi you see down there. IT WAS SO GOOD. I love that place.

Guy: Henry, how are you?

Henry: Not thrilled, guy. 

After dinner, we walked over to the Altar Bar, where Henry immediately started grimacing as he saw generations way below his lining up at the door. To be fair, it was a pretty mixed bag as far as ages go, but Henry’s so old that he’s always going to stick out. I at least got carded still.

We were early enough that I was able to snag my favorite balcony spot, which is practically right over the stage. I knew it was going to get crowded on the floor and I haven’t been feeling well enough to risk getting a shoe in the face, or to even be that close to people in general.

Milk Teeth came on promptly at 7:

Talk about being transported back to the mid-90s, holy shit. And I mean that in all of the best ways. They have a grunge throwback sound that made me feel like I was back in Lisa’s Jeep, learning to drive in Jefferson Memorial.

They’re from England and this is their first time touring the US. And Pittsburgh got to be their first taste of America. That’s….alarming.

I’m pretty vocal about my pickiness for female singers, but I’m board with these guys 100%.

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The girl next to me whipped around, look me straight in the eyes, and said very seriously, “She is everything. My God!” I agreed with her wholeheartedly, but then she went back to talking to her date and I was like, “HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHEN YOU HAVE BEEN TALKING THROUGH THEIR ENTIRE SET!?”

Other than that, my balcony neighbors weren’t too bad. I even helped her date save her spot when she went to the bathroom. That’s very un-Erin-like. I really must have been sick.

Chooch really likes this video:

Henry had to think about it for two days before committing to a solid, “They weren’t bad.”

I was all up in some GIRLPOWER after that, though. SOMEONE TEACH ME HOW TO PLAY BASS. Or how about whatever the easiest instrument of all time is, but maybe one step up from a triangle.

Next up was Sorority Noise! The crowd started to get a little rowdier at this point, which chiseled deeper frown lines into Henry’s weathered face.

This one young girl came pushing through the crowd right as they started and she shouted back every single word, and what the hell is my problem, but this made me cry tears of joy!? I had to stop myself from saying into Henry’s ear how happy it made me to see young kids having something to feel passionate about, but I knew he would roll his eyes so I veiled my face with my hair and cried in private.

I think a lot of it is that I didn’t have that when I was a teenager. I had a lot of canned happiness and sobbing alone in my bedroom.

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I hope when Chooch is older and starts going to shows with his friends, that he’s one of those kids down there ferociously pointing his finger at the stage and shouting along to all of the words that get him through his days.

AND I LEARNED TO LOVE MYSELF MORE THAN I COULD EVER LOVE YOU – gets me every fucking time.

Turnover was next and I had to brace myself for their beautiful blend of modern shoegaze, and also I had no idea their singer had such a Henry-esque haircut! I kept asking Henry if that’s what he looked like in the nineties and he would only answer in various degrees of frowns. He was even wearing Henry-approved jeans. Also, he recently shaved his mustache, so imagine how much more Young Henryish he must have looked.

I was almost peeing my pants, waiting for Turnover. Listening to them makes me feel like going out and catching lightning bugs, or some other precious summer activity that you would never expect me to do. Like, holding hands with Henry.

I was really glad Henry was there, because Turnover is the kind of band that seeing alone would be depressing.

Would you come here and spin with me?
I’ve been dying to get you dizzy,
Find a way up into your head
So I can make you feel like new again

Also? They’re on my record label crush, Run For Cover. There’s not one bad band in that bunch.

Like, for instance….CITIZEN.

As soon as they started playing, there was this massive surge of people pushing toward the stage, and Henry leaned against the balcony with a big smile because looking down disapprovingly upon a mass of crowd-surfers is worth the price of the ticket for him. So while he stood laughing out loud at the kids below, I used that as my opportunity to openly weep and mouth the words to every song, like the true sad girl I am.

I could honestly fill this entire post with Citizen videos because it’s too hard to choose one song to represent them. A lot of people hated their last album because they shifted from a pop-punk vibe to a more grungy slow-burn sound. I personally like them both ways and to me, they’re still the same band. Isn’t that the point of being a musician, to continually evolve and hone your sound? Who wants to keep putting out the same album over and over.

Their old songs seemed to merge effortlessly with the new ones that night, it wasn’t like a jarring shift in the vibe as they bounced back and forth between their discography. I kept reading things on various forums about how crowds weren’t responding well to the new songs, and I’m sorry, but the Pittsburgh crowd was fucking in it to win it.

It was everything I hoped it would be and I felt so alive. Meanwhile, the guy next to me got ditched by his date. Maybe she ran off to find the singer of Milk Teeth, since she thought she was “everything” even though she talked through Milk Teeth’s entire set. So he ended up forfeiting his spot and I was so worried that assholes were going to swoosh in, but two peaceful, older guys (older as in like late 20s, lol) took the empty spot and my night got to continue along down the river of tranquility. Everything was fucking perfect and beautiful and I loved everyone that night, even kind of Henry.

This is how you keep my top from popping off. Get me to at least two shows a month and I won’t rip your face off.

I love them so much.

The next day, I was at work and Henry sent me a text that said, “Last night wasn’t bad.”

THAT MEANS, IN HENRY-SPEAK, THAT HE HAD A NICE TIME!

HENRY IS A CITIZEN FAN!

HENRY LIKES SOMETHING I LIKE!!

What a fucking beautiful night. My heart is exploding.

After catching Frameworks open for United Nations during the summer of 2014, my heart was hooked like the lip of trout. They’ve got that emo revival sound that resonates with me, so I’d been keeping a watchful eye on this Florida bunch.  Finally, they announced a headlining tour with Donovan Wolfington, and I was on board. I didn’t even bother asking anyone to go with me. I’m over that hassle.

In exchange for not having to go, Henry gave me a free Lyft to the Smiling Moose on Sunday, and also an allowance to cover my ticket and cider. Clearly, Papa Tightwad was in a good mood, knowing he could go home and binge-watch How It’s Made in his underroos.

Before the show started, I chilled in the bar in the back of the room, drinking some outer space-priced pumpkin cider and being entertained by a pair of older Bosnian gentlemen who were apparently there to support one of the local bands but I couldn’t tell if they were being serious or not because my facetious meter has been damaged through years of hard use. In any case, I chugged my ritzy cider so that I could go closer to the stage. (All Ages show, yo.)

The first band was Curse Words. I felt drawn to them immediately. That sad boy emo gets me every last time, and I already can’t wait to see them again/stalk them all around the ‘Burgh. Our neighbors moved out so maybe I can get them to come over and play a house show, OMG.

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After their set, an influx of old people rushed the stage. Mom-types started skipping around, hugging teenage girls and thanking them for coming out, and it became clear that the entourage of the second band had arrived. It was adorable and fucking annoying simultaneously, but I’ll tell you what: I was buffeted by the comforting scent of freshly laundered sheets, hand sanitizer, and Werthers Originals, thanks to the grandparents closing in on me. This was a nice change from the usual stench of B.O. and farts that usually permeates the upstairs of the Smiling Moose.

The band of the hour was another local band called the Incandescence. I want to jump on board and tell you that I was blown away, but…I didn’t get it. Musically, they were all over the place and I understand that genres are binding, but in their case, it felt like they didn’t have an identity. Aside from having a super-charismatic drummer who reminded me so much of my old friend James Hosfield with long hair, I was pretty bored and disconnected. Plus, I was surrounded by all of these preppy girls who were clearly classmates of these guys (I couldn’t tell if the band was high school- or college-aged) who were totally clueless on how to act at a show and kept complaining that it was too loud.

STILL, I was happy to support them.

And then the whole place cleared out afterward.

#loner

Anyone who hates opening bands would be super pissed at a Smiling Moose show because it’s the openers that pack the place. It’s always a family affair at every show I’ve gone to there, little Billy’s band got their first real gig and the whole fucking family tree has to storm the venue. It’s actually super awesome to witness. I can’t imagine my family ever coming together to support me in something like that, so it gives me hope when I see Aunt Betty and Grandpa Walt cringing and beaming with pride at the same time. And this is why, even if the band isn’t my thing, I will still scream and clap alongside the people who are required to scream and clap.

Also, for the first half of these shows, they take the heat off me with their white hair and wrinkles and I don’t have to be That Lady Standing Alone who is either Someone’s Mom or Lost.

(In all honesty, the only time I ever got any weird looks was when I was the Young Girl Alone at the Boz Scaggs show.)

By the time Donovan Wolfington’s set started, there were only about 15 of us left. Like you couldn’t hang out for another hour, guys, really?

D.Wolf was super entertaining. I’ve never seen them live before but I was really looking forward to it. I will give most any band on Topshelf my full, undivided attention and these guys did not disappoint. They were pretty hilarious, which always makes me love bands even more.

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Finally, it was time for Frameworks. I wish I could properly explain what it is about this style of music, and this band in particular, that makes me weak in the knees. I tried to articulate it at work the other day, the whole screaming thing. Because I know, it’s a curious concept for a lot of people who think that it’s just screaming for the sake of screaming. Sure, there are definitely bands out there like that. But those aren’t the ones I like. I tried to get my work friends to believe that there are different types of screaming, but that was received by a collective “come the fuck on” look from all of them.

But it’s true! For instance, people assume that I must like death metal, because of the screaming.  But I don’t! I’m not a fan of that type of screaming, and it also has a lot to do with the music behind the screams.

“The kind of screaming I like is the emotional kind,” I said, attempting to delve into a lesson in emotional hardcore/Emo Revival, but if anyone had been taking me seriously before that point, I had definitely lost them with the “emotional” thing. And then somehow I heard myself casually admitting that I pretty much cry at the drop of a hat. “I started crying before the opening credits of Fuller House even started,” I laughed. “Like, Henry was still looking for it on Netflix and I started crying.”

“Oh my god,” Glenn muttered. “WHY?!”

I’M JUST REALLY FRAGILE AND SENTIMENTAL OK!??

But whatever. I laughed along with everyone because it was a pretty funny conversation for a Tuesday morning, but this really is something I take seriously. If I’m not at a show, I’m listening to music, and if I’m not listening to music, I’m reading about it. And somewhere in between, I’m watching music videos on YouTube. It really is practically my entire life, oh well. This music has been slowly suturing my heart for the last several years and I will keep going to these shows as long as they exist because it’s so much cheaper than therapy and anti-depressants.

There is just something so cathartic, standing feet away from the stage, while someone is shouting his words in your face.

I had been looking forward to this show ever since it was announced and it honestly didn’t disappoint. It was perfectly abrasive, beautifully raw, and the only way it could have been more intimate would have been if we were all sitting cross-legged on my bed.

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In between songs, one of the guitarists thanked everyone for staying after all of the “Church dwellers” left, which was an accurate assessment. Selfishly, I love these shows with sparse crowds because it’s so much more comfortable and relaxed, but it really sucks for the bands. Pittsburgh is so fucking backwards with some things. Get with it, Pittsburgh.

After the show, I mustered up the courage to talk to Luke, the singer. I felt so bad that my town didn’t show up for them (their other shows in bigger cities seemed to do well, big surprise) and I really wanted him to know that I appreciated them. During their set, Luke had mentioned that this was only their second time playing here, so I used that as my conversation starter.

“I was at that United Nations show two years ago, and you guys totally stole my heart,” I freakishly gushed. He put his hand over his heart and said that meant a lot, and then he formally introduced himself with a handshake. This is the part in every conversation with bands where I have no idea which route to take, so I always pull the ripcord and take the emergency exit while shouting, “OK THANKS HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU WERE GREAT BYE.”

Sigh. This part never gets easier for me.

Whenever I start to get pulled down into negativity’s undertow, I just have to look back on these moments and remember that I am living my life. No one is stopping me from enjoying the things I love. And I don’t mind being alone anymore, and my life is full of beautiful music and experiences because of that. Things are so much better now.

I think I shook for two whole days after this show. It was some kind of spiritual to-do, you guys.

For a day that’s supposed to be steeped in calendar-dictated synthetic love and bacon-flavored sentiments on beds of rose petals (isn’t that what you young couples do these days? Wrap everything in bacon?), my house was popping off with explosive attitudes and screeching histrionics. I was still half-sick and miserable; Chooch was code orange whiny—and if we’re being frank, probably feeding off of my irritability;  and Henry was just tired of taking the brunt of it.

So, no gluten-free, lavender-infused, edible-gold-sprinkled, heart-shaped Pinterest-approved pancakes for us. :(

It was starting to look like Chooch and I weren’t going to the Never Shout Never shout that night after all. My only saving grace was that he hated me slightly less than Henry.

(Henry committed some heinous slight against him that evening, didn’t make him a King’s banquet for dinner, and then when Chooch whined about wanting more, different food, Henry started yelling about how he’s not a restaurant and he’s tired of making separate meals for everyone and then I got involved by yelling, “Well fuck me for being ethically against eating meat!” and the night just went south from there because it’s all about Henry. Henry Henry Henry!)

The only thing we had in common with Valentines Day was the color red we were all seeing.

But we managed to compose ourselves and push in our devil horns long enough to get in the car and have our chauffeur drive us to Mr. Small’s, where we were magically transformed into MOTHERFUCKING SWEETHEARTS.

This could only mean one thing.

HENRY is the catalyst. Henry, you reactant! Henry, you motherfucker. 

As soon as Chooch and I walked into Mr. Small’s, one of the guys from the opening band, Waterparks, interrupted his conversation with some young fan girl to say to Chooch, “Hey, I like your hair!” Chooch just casually shrugged, like, “Yeah, of course you do.”

Duh.

I wish I was more like Chooch. Instead of cooly brisking past, I was choking on my tongue in an attempt to thank the kind boy on Chooch’s behalf.

We purposely arrived two hours after doors. I rarely miss the opening bands, and I think it’s so important to support them, especially the ones that are local. But I have to consider that my nine-year-old has a low threshold for standing in one room. So, we missed Waterparks and Get the Picture (sorry, guys) but arrived just in time for JuleVera, whom I was really looking forward to after missing them at Warped Tour due to conflicting set times.

Their singer Ansley is only 18 years old. So young! And as soon as she started singing, Chooch looked at me with ruddy cheeks and this big goofy grin that I recognized as his I’M IN LUFFFFFFF AND CANT FIGHT IT HELP I’M DYING face of anguish.

“We have to go to their merch table after they’re done!” he hissed.

Guys, I didn’t expect to like them as much as I did, but they sounded great, and any young band that can spend three minutes between songs doing a drum and guitar solo without coming off as douchey or losing the interest of the crowd has genuine talent.

Chooch declared that this is his new favorite band and I’ll co-sign that.

As soon as their last song ended, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to their merch table, quickly, before the line gets too long!

Sadly, most people there were more interested in the dregs of the music scene, namely Metro Station who were up next. So not many people rushed to the merch tables.

I was super proud when Chooch passed up the row of CDs and pointed to the vinyl, which I happily purchased for him. CHOOCH IS AMAZING. THE NIGHT IS AMAZING. EVERYTHING IS AMAZING WHEN HENRY ISNT THERE!

Lol sike. But seriously, Chooch and I generally get along much better when. Henry isn’t in the temperament equation.

Right after I paid the top-knotted merch girl for the record, Ansley walked over. Begin obligatory awkward transmission of the night.

She seemed shy, he was definitely shy, and I was shoe-horned into an uncomfortable position of being Son’s Mouthpiece. So I quickly said it was our first time seeing them.

“Oh cool! Did you like it?” she asked Chooch directly.

“#^*^^+£[#^@&$” he gurgled with a nod. Then I quickly took their picture and whisked him away before we could fall any further into social peril.

LOOK HOW RED HIS CHEEKS ARE!

We went back into the main area afterward and scored a decent spot in a sparsely populated area by the bar barrier, and I was thankful to sit down on the floor with my back against a wall, because I had the day-after-food-poisoning weakness. Chooch smiled deliriously at his record for awhile and then eventually, Metro Station came on.

I try really hard not to flat out hate a band, but my feelings for Metro Station come very close to simulating bricks of ultra-negativity being hurled through glass walls. OK I hate them. They were pretty popular in what, 2007 or something? Because Miley Cyrus’s brother is in it? And they had one catchy song called “Shake” that made all the Radio Disney kids feel like rebels for listening to what they were told was “punk” music?

Then they went away and it was wonderful! Five Metro Stationless years!

And now they’re back. And disgusting. Honestly, they sound like mediocre karaoke at the corner bar. But they have BRIGHT STAGE LIGHTS  and TRACE CYRUS!

That’s MILEY’S BROTHER Y’ALL.

He took his shirt off at one point and all the girls screamed their panties right off their bodies and onto the stage, and I was just left standing there in a stupor, like “Ew, why?”

And when they lovingly name-dropped their homeboys in Attila and Falling In Reverse, I was ready to go home and start my own Pittsburgh chapter of Girls Against Misogynistic Bands.

Get the fuck out of my face with your Ronnie Radke shout-outs.

Total lowpoint of the night. And they didn’t really match the vibe of Never Shout Never anyway, so why. Even Chooch was cringing.

Turnover playing over the sound system while Metro Station’s fecal residue was being scrubbed off the stage. I actually cried out, “Ooh, it’s Turnover!” and I doubt anyone cared.  Chooch definitely didn’t.

The singer of dumb Metro Station walked past us and I was really angry to note that he had a CURE PATCH on the back of his dumb black denim shirt. Robert Smith’s face does not belong on such filth.

Never Shout Never took the stage at 10 and the night vastly improved. Chooch’s excitement was contagious. Every time Christofer would describe the next song, Chooch would quickly shout out what it was going to be and he was so happy the one time that I got it wrong, because he’s Mini Erin, and that’s something I too would gloat about.

At one point, Chris mentioned that he had been eating “marijuana-infused honey from Denver” all day, and what he really needed right then was a cup of red wine, half wine half gingerale, and someone should be awesome and get that for him. Chooch was like, “MOMMY! DO IT!!!” I mean, we were standing right on the other side of the bar so I could have easily turned around and snapped my fingers, but I figured 20 other broads were well on their way back to the stage with his wine…

Also, I’m such a great mom for exposing my 4th grader to this shit.

After another song, Chris said, “So…where’s that wine?” because no one had actually gone through with it so then I was like OMG SHOULD I BE THE ONE!? SHOULD I DO IT!? but by the time my mind worked out 87 different variations of how this scene could play out, some dude had climbed onto the stage and handed him a cup, courtesy of some chick who is probably still Snapchatting about her 10 seconds of recognition.

It would have been pretty hilarious to send Chooch up with it, though.

Ugh. Missed opportunity!

Anyway, they played one of my favorites, “On the Brightside” and I was so glad!

And Chooch kept screaming “Red Balloon!” and then when they finally played it, he smirked at me, like “See what I did?” Sure Chooch, whatever. He was stoked when a menagerie of balloons was released from a net in the balcony. Kids and balloons, amirite?

We moved closer toward the end of the show, once I was confident that I could stand without leaning back on something sturdy and we realized that there was an empty pocket near the left side of the stage.

Being there made me think of all the shows I’ve seen in that place, and how fucking fantastic it is that now Chooch is seeing shows at this exact same venue. This night was pure magic. (With the exception of Metro Station, ugh! That part was fucking voodoo.)

I left Chooch alone during the encore so I could buy him a shirt before the merch table was swarmed with people. The merch guy told me that Chris wasn’t going to be coming out after, and that he already had done a meet and greet before the show, so part of me was sad for Chooch, but super stoked for myself because all I could think about was RESTING MY WEARY BONES IN MY BED.

“Oh well, at least I’ve already met him once,” Chooch shrugged, content with his JuleVera experience and just an overall night of beautiful music (and 30 minutes of garbage cacophony).
  

***

On the way home from the show, I was angrily retelling the horror story of Metro Station to Henry.

“One of their songs was literally just them yelling ‘she likes girls girls girls,'” I seethed.

“Oh, I thought they were saying ghosts. ‘She likes ghosts ghosts ghosts….'” Chooch piped up from the backseat.

You’re giving them way too much credit, buddy.

After last month’s experience at the Smiling Moose, I wasn’t sure that I was ready to go back there again alone. But Hail the Sun was playing and I really wanted to see them because they bring me great joy, and after the last few week’s of feeling bogged down by…what? Dismal weather? Restlessness? Mental illness? Bad Mexicans? I really needed to get my ass to a show. It had been a month since the last one and that’s just unacceptable.

I was prepared to go alone, especially after Henry ignored the Hail the Sun Facebook invite I sent him. And then yesterday, he sent me a text that said, “Did you get tickets yet? Because it’s sold out.” And my face was flush with panic as my fingers quickly typed in the information to Facebook because one of the local bands on the bill was selling tickets directly and I was prepared to beg them for one. But then Henry was all, “Lol.”

I hate him.

Good thing I asked Janna to watch Chooch because Henry ended up going with me after all! I was in such a great mood because of it that I actually paused outside of the Smiling Moose in order to have a pleasant conversation about my ray-gun purse with some pink-haired lady smoking a cigarette. She asked if it was Betsey Johnson and I was all, “Ha! I wish. If it is, someone accidentally sold it to me for super cheap!” And then we talked about Betsey Johnson’s current line of things while Henry stood there, bored and cold.

That is how you know I’m in a fine mood: when I engage in real life, proper conversations with strangers!

It was happy hour when we got there, so Henry happily went to the bar in the back of the upstairs. For as many times as I have been there, I have never gone to the bar upstairs (only the main one downstairs) because I always go right to the front near the stage and people-watch, i.e. nervously text and tweet while watching people out of the corner of my eye. The first band was still setting up, so I  joined Henry and had whatever Arsenal Cider was on tap. Henry asked the bartender—who was super nice, and one of the best parts of the Smiling Moose; I fucking love their bartenders—what some kind of beer was and a man turned around and said, “If you like IPAs, you will really like that.”

Henry doesn’t like IPAs, whatever that means, so he was like awkwardly trying to thank the guy for his suggestion without actually ordering one.

I stood back there with Henry through two songs from the opening band, Scene Stage the World, but finally Henry sighed and said, “Go. I know it’s killing you” so I happily skipped away to the stage. I liked this band, but no offense to them since I have no clue what the meaning behind it is, but I really hate the name. I’ve had to double check 5 times to make sure I got it right because y brain just won’t accept it as a real thing.

After their set, I weaved my way back to the bar and saw that HENRY AND IPA GUY were talking! They looked like all ‘Nam buddies, too, all casual and comfortable against the bar, beers in hand, until I rolled up and it got awkward real fast. I caught the tail end of their conversation, and Henry was saying something like, “Yeah, I like them” about some band which is probably a total fucking lie because Henry likes nothing. My presence really put a damper on their budding romance though: the conversation seemed to taper off mid-stream and Henry’s new boy toy uncomfortably shifted away from the bar, leaving me and Henry standing there alone. Then he eventually drifted away.

“Whoa, did I interrupt something?” I laughed.

“What? No! He was just telling me that he came here from West Virginia to see that band. One of the guys is his downstairs neighbor or something…”

WHOA, he was telling Henry about his living situation?! UBER INTIMATE.

And that’s when I discovered that Henry, Mr. Ew, IPAs Are Yucky, had an IPA IN HIS HAND.

“It’s actually not bad,” he said, wiping foam off his mustache with the back of his hand. “It’s like….creamy. Here, try it!”

Bitch, get that glass of adultery out of my face.

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Just then, someone walked by and Henry quietly shouted, “IS THAT DONOVAN? HE CUT HIS HAIR.”

For someone who doesn’t like any of the bands I take him to see, he sure as fuck can spot all the members. Yes, Henry, that was indeed the singer of Hail the Sun. Good job!

“That guy has a fake leg,” Henry whispered. “DON’T LOOK! I saw him adjusting it earlier.” This is what Henry does at shows. He rarely looks at the stage. So if you’re ever at a show and see Henry there, you better check yourself because he will definitely be watching.

Like the fucking background creeper that he is.

I ditched Henry again in favor of the second band, False Accusations. Before they even started playing, I felt like I had seen them before because their bassist especially looked very familiar to me. Then they started playing and hearts sprung out from my eye sockets and a crown of blue birds circled around my head.

The guitarist’s dad was in attendance, and he pushed his way through the crowd in order to snap some pics with his flip phone and I melted from the adorableness of it all. Turns out that the dad was also Henry’s fake-leg friend from the bar. He couldn’t wait to tell me afterward.

Anyway, I scoured my blog after their set, determined to figure out where I had seen them before, and it turns out that they were the opening band when we went to see Icarus the Owl 9/2014, but we had arrived during the tail end of their set and never caught their name. WELL, NOW I KNOW.

And this is why I continue to write on this thing regardless if people read it or not, because it sure beats relying on my own memory.

The third band was Makari, and I was excited to see them because I had heard of them and thought they were going to have that Blue Swan vibe that I love. But no. It was like something from a 2008 Rise Records showcase. I mean, they weren’t BAD, but they were kind of boring and the singer was a little annoying.

However, their bassist looked like a young Raising Arizona-era Nic Cage and I pretty  much spent their entire set marveling over that while trying to scream about into Henry’s furry ear. Henry just frowned in disagreement.

Makari doing Makari things. They’re from somewhere in Florida, but the singer told us that he was actually born in ALTOONA, PA which no one was that impressed about but I really wanted to scream, “DID YOU EVER GO TO LAKEMONT PARK!?!?!?” This was the most interesting part of their set for me.

That’s the wall where I almost died last time.

Before Hail  the Sun came on, I turned around to talk to Henry (trust me, it pained me to do so), and I noticed that two of the guys from Save Us From the Archon were there!

“Henry!” I urgently hissed at him. “I want to congratulate them for getting signed to Tragic Hero!”

“Oh my god,” Henry sighed. “Then just do it.” Which of course kickstarted the hamster wheel of self-doubt in my head. SHOULD I?!?!?! SHOULDN’T I!?!? HOW SHOULD I SAY IT!?!? WHAT IF I STUTTER?!?! Ugh, I hate myself. Some prog-head was chatting their ears off anyway, so that was my sign to just turn back around.

But then finally, finally, finally it was time for Hail the Sun and I rejoiced! This was maybe the sixth time we saw them live and I have to say, it was definitely my favorite. I love that Donovan is the drummer/singer JUST LIKE PHIL COLLINS but that they have someone slide in for him halfway through the set so that he can get up front and center and scream into our faces. I love watching Aric Garcia do his tight, concise head shakes, and I love watching maniacal Shane Gann show off his skills for all the prog nerds.

Just being there righted so many wrongs. This is the only drug I’ll ever need.

(I mean, unless I end up with some serious illness, then I guess I’ll consider taking actual drugs.)

This song especially rips out my heart every time:

My heart drops when the t-t-telephone rings..

I like turning to Henry afterward and saying, “Maybe…” with a shrug. And he just smirks and rolls his eyes. Because he knows that I’ll probably starve if our lives ever divide.

The crowd was great, better than I could have imagined that night. That’s not to say that it didn’t smell like piss and B.O. up in there, because it still definitely did. Probably more so than the last few times I’ve been there, to be honest.

Set List:

• Will They Blame Me If You Go Disappearing?
• Cosmic Narcissism
• Paranoia
• Rolling Out the Red Carpet
• Human Target Practice
• Falling On Deaf Ears
• Black Serotonin
• Relax / Divide
• Ow! (Splidao!) [I Like It, Though]
• Anti-Eulogy (I Hope You Stay Dead)
  Encore:
• Railmaster
• Eight-Ball, Coroner’s Pocket

I wanted to buy merch afterward but Cheap Henry had no cash on him (ON PURPOSE probably) so I was like, “Fine, forget it!” and we left. On the way back to the car though, I saw AJ and Samantha from Save Us From the Archon, so I stopped them and just quickly let the congratulations blurt out of my mouth without thinking too much about it. They were super stoked about it and formally introduced themselves; it was wonderful and I was so thankful that Henry had kept walking because he always makes me feel 150% more stupid about fan-girling. When I caught up with him, he laughed and said, “Happy now?” YES, THANKS.

****

When we got back to our house, I noticed that Janna had driven HER MOTHER’S CAR to our house!

“OMG does she know you drove her car, JANNA?!” I cried while laughing hysterically.

“Yeah!” Janna scoffed, already regretting this poor choice of vehicle. “My car needs inspected so she told me to take hers!” she added defensively.

“BUT DID SHE REALLY!??!” I screamed, practically squatting to keep from peeing my pants. Janna just rolled her eyes. Then I took a picture of Janna’s mom’s car to send to Corey.

THOSE ARE THE EMOJIS HE USES FOR THE SILHOUETTE OF JANNA’S MOM IN THE WINDOW AS SHE IS BEATING HER AND YELLING AT HER.

OMG, TEARS. This will never get old.

What night, man.

Alternative Press finally posted the video of Craig Owens performing a brand new song, and it’s super exciting for me because Henry, Robbie, Nikki, and I were there, in the same room, watching with drool as this was filmed last month. (Well, maybe Henry wasn’t drooling; he probably waited until later and let it all out in private.)

That was such a beautiful day. I’m happy to have this video so that we can all relive it! Can’t wait to see what Craig has up his sleeve for 2016.

It’s Wednesday. There was a 2-hour delay because I guess it’s very cold out or something. (Yesterday was very cold too but when I checked the weather before leaving the house, 20 degrees somehow seemed like it would be “warm” so I wore a lightweight jacket and no gloves. I’m killing this adult game.)

I spent all morning designing new Valentines for non compos with intermittent KpopX mental health breaks. It is literally the only thing keeping me stable, thank you KpopX. My current favorite song/routine is 2Eye’s “Pippi” and did you know that if my birth dad hadn’t died and my mom hadn’t remarried, my last name would be Pippi? Seriously, shoot me. I would have said yes to one of those other pre-Henry dudes who actually asked me to marry them. (What were they thinking?)

Here is Chooch’s expression from when I made him watch the Pippi video this morning:

I’d like to add that a few minutes later, I was upstairs putting MY FACE ON, when I heard him in the living room absentmindedly humming 2eye’s masterpiece. Yeah, that’s what’s up.

I made Henry watch an acoustic rendition of “PIPPI” last night and his expression was pretty similar, except his eyes were more glazed.

(Don’t worry, everything else I listen to is depressing as fuck so I’m no less emo.)

***

Last week, Glenn happily sent me an article about “South Korea resuming propaganda broadcasts hated by North” because it mentions Kpop, but not only that, it gives a shout-out to one of my favorite KpopX routine songs!!

So, between KpopX and making new Valentine cards, I’m keeping busy. Gayle tried to force me to borrow a book from her and I was like, “NICE TRY GAYLE BUT I AM IN NO PLACE TO READ A BOOK RIGHT NOW.”

Also, I feel like I’m getting sick. I AM SLOWLY BREAKING, HELP. EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE. #SOS #911 #187

One of the first, if not the first, music videos I ever saw was for David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance.” My dad was really into recording (see also: taping) Friday Night Videos back in the early 80s, pre-MTV.

I still have one of his VHS tapes of homemade music video compilations; it’s labeled with a piece of masking tape and I refuse to pitch it.

“Let’s Dance” is on there.

Even as a super young kid, when I saw this video, I knew this guy was cool as fuck.

And then obviously “Labyrinth” happened. I watched that movie for the first time in third grade, at my friend Elisabeth Holtz’s house, sitting on the floor making shitty beaded jewelry and thinking, “I would not mind one bit if David Bowie kidnapped my little brother.” Legend.

In high school, I “borrowed” one of my dad’s Bowie CDs because I wanted to put “Changes” on a mix tape I was making, and then I conveniently “forgot” to put it back. That ignited a nice little fight. My dad and I were almost constantly feuding during my teen years so it was no big thing to me at all, but looking back on it now, it was pretty ironic that he was the one who introduced me to David Bowie and then there we were all those years later, fighting because of him.

I ended up just going out and buying my own Bowie CDs after that.

(With my mom’s money, haha!)

Waking up to the news of Bowie’s death this morning took my breath away. I woke up Chooch and said, “Something terrible happened…

David Bowie died.” And that’s when I realized I was crying.

Chooch shot up from his bed like Nosferatu from a coffin, and cried, “WHAT?! How!?” I told him it was cancer, and he went on a tear, motherfucking cancer up and down.

“Now there won’t ever be a sequel to ‘Labyrinth’,” he added somberly.

This feels like one of those universal deaths, the kinds that suck so hard and touch people on such a worldwide level, that we all kind of come together for a moment. It’s comforting. Especially when I open Facebook and see people mourning the same loss as me, when I didn’t really think we had much in common. David Bowie is the glittery, otherworldly, sonic thread that connects us. And there will never be another like him.

Thank you, David Bowie.

Hi guys I’m into things. Here are some of those things.

1.Not giving blood. Amber² gave blood today at work and then tried to thrust her vamp-wound in my face and I thought I was going to pass out. Then I made the mistake of telling her, Glenn and Todd that I donated blood ONCE in high school and honestly did pass out. “Someone had to help me walk to the nurse’s room. It was like a big scene,” I said. “Wow, that’s hard to believe,” Todd said and I think he was being sarcastic. Glenn tried to get me to donate blood by saying, “They brought their best leeches.” That was the second time in two days I almost puked at work. The other time was the day before because it was the first day I was wearing my new, non-trial pair of contacts and I had such a headache from my eyes struggling to adjust,  that I had to bury my head in my arms for a few minutes in the afternoon because I really thought I was in for an unfortunate lunch reunion at my desk.

2. KpopX. Yes, I’m still kpopping. I kpopped so fucking hard tonight too, you have no idea, and my goddamn gums are tingling somehow. I kpopped something in my neck the other day so that wasn’t good. Here is my current favorite KpopX routine, because hello, apples:

3. Making a Murderer. Yes, I’m basic. I’m obsessed just like everyone else. I mean, I’m already done watching it but that doesn’t mean I don’t spend every free minute reading Reddit and hounding my co-workers to watch it. (I heard that Lou has watched it but I try not to speak to Lou, so…)

4. The Law Firm Zine. I think I already mentioned this but I’m making a zine for the department at work and I am really pouring my heart into it. For literally no reason whatsover. I have two pages done so far with three more in the works. It’s going to be a real fucking stunner when it’s finished. I CAN’T WAIT TO SHOW EVERYONE.

5. Anticipating the new Basement album. They were on hiatus for some time and now they’re back and I’m excited. Did I say enough? You should watch this video and let the sounds enter you in whichever way you see fit.

6. Making plans to stay alive this winter. New year, same drill: keep busy so the winter depression doesn’t kill me. So far, there are several shows on tap, Corey and I have a pb&j and Mattress Factory trip planned for next month (and Kara too if she’s interested—KARA??), and some lame YouTuber has taught Chooch about geocaching so I’m apparently doing that with him this weekend while Henry hangs back and reupholsters the bar stools with fun fur, because I’ve projects for days, you guys. PROJECTS.FOR.DAYS. (That’s inaccurate. Projects for years.) Last night, I could hear Chooch in his room, cracking the fuck up, so I assumed he was watching one of his idiot YouTubers, but later I found out he was reading the blog post I sent him about the time we went geocaching (LETTERBOXING—I’m a purist; get that GPS jizz out of my face) when he was three. FLATTERED.

Um, other than all of that, I’m just sitting here, making Henry watch music videos with me on YouTube because I’m 16.

I guess that’s all. I’m always the lamest version of myself in January.

Fuck you, January.

It had been a minute since I was last at the Grog Shop in Cleveland, so I was pretty stoked. The Grog Shop has provided some great times for me and also is where I was first introduced to Strongbow in 2009. That was a gamechanger.

This is where Craig Owens was playing his acoustic set on December 16th, and it had all the promises of being intimate and beautiful.

Henry, Nikki, Robbie and I got there before doors opened. We had been standing for a bit in line when we realized some older lady was going around with a notepad, interviewing the people in line in front of us. I mumbled to my group, “Oh god, let’s not make eye contact. This lady looks—HI YES I WILL ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS ABOUT CRAIG OWENS!” My  tune changed as soon as she approached us because I LOVE TO HEAR MYSELF TALK.

Not really.

OK SOMETIMES.

She was kind of creepy, I’m not going to lie. She said she goes to all of his shows and does this, makes a list of why all of the kids are there, and then she gives it to him at the end of the night. She made it sound like they are tight, and who knows—perhaps they are. But she was still kind of annoying.

I made some past-tense comment about Chiodos and she snapped, “He’s still in Chiodos. They’re still together.”

Oh. OK.

(I really don’t think they are. But she clearly knows it all.)

Then she said something about how she wants him to play “3 AM” but she knows he won’t because he doesn’t plat Chiodos songs at his solo shows, which made me raise my eyebrows because he certainly has in the past.

“Isn’t it interesting to hear a man’s POV of a one-night stand?” she asked us in regard to the meaning behind “3 AM” and we all just  nervously laughed until she finally moved along.

The doors opened around 7 and we traded in our toys for meet-n-greet wrist bands and then I pushed away imaginary people on my mad dash to claim us seats at the bar. Henry gave me that “why are you running?” smirk.

BECAUSE I AM ALWAYS IN A HURRY? How is he not accustomed to this by now. I hate him.

And then I found out that they didn’t have Strongbow and sighed a sigh to end all sighs. They had some kind of cherry cider though so I got that and it was beautiful. Henry was the DD so he just sat there nursing his water while the rest of us went to town. That’s what you get for being a dad, Henry.

The first band to play was a local group of seemingly high school-age kids (I think they might have been slightly older but we’ve already established a few blog posts back that my eyes are third-rate) called Trusting Obscurity. They had a girl singer and I will give them an A for effort: they had enthusiasm and moxie.

But they weren’t really for me. Or Robbie. Or Nikki.

(I didn’t ask Henry though because he doesn’t have opinions.)

They were mostly alt-rock, did a decent Paramore cover (“That’s What You Get”) and a questionable Fall Out Boy one (“Sugar, We’re Going Down”) and then a mixed bag of originals. I thought the girl had a pleasing voice, kind of husky, but their set was kind of long and I was getting antsy. And then they did some bastardized reggae banger and here’s a fact about me: I don’t like reggae. SORRY MARLEYS.

I just can’t with the reggae.

Me and Sober Hank.

From the moment the second band started playing, my eyes dilated with pure hearts. whenskiesaregray were the perfect blend of hardcore and emo, reminiscent of The Saddest Landscape and Pianos Become the Teeth, and I thought I was going to catapult off my bar stool. I was so into it, that it was making my ribcage hurt.

It was like someone handed them an Erin Will Love You starter kit and they followed it step-by-step:

Their set was over entirely too fast.

We were talking about how none of us were very fond of the first band.

“Yeah, that first band played way too long,” I cider-shouted just as the singer walked by.

She might have heard. I don’t know.

About whenskiesaregray, Robbie said, “They reminded me of that one genre…you know, like The Number 12 Looks Like You and…”

“Circle Takes the Square!” I added, because I always have to add. If you’re not adding, you’re subtracting, OK?! Get on my math level.

“But what’s that genre called?” Robbie asked, and Henry at this point had the glazed-over eyes that he probably had all throughout high school too.

“Grindcore!” I remembered a minute or so later, and Robbie was like, “Yeah!” and Henry looked like he was having really bad flashbacks to the days when I was really into grindcore. (For example: THE LOCUST.)

Too Close To Touch was next and they were your basic post-hardcore type of band and in a perfect world, I would have been all over them. I don’t know if I was just way too excited for Craig or if I was losing consciousness from inhaling the French whore perfume of this one aging, over-dressed scene queen who kept sauntering past, but I don’t really remember much of their set. Plus, I was on my second drink — a real life beer — and another fact about me is that I drink so infrequently these days that two ciders/beers is going to more than do the trick.

I think it was right after this band when we Facetimed with Chooch and Nikki got really excited and came running over to say hi to him; Robbie, you better watch out! I know that Chooch was fine back home with Judy, but I still hate it when we’re apart for too long.

Until we reunite and start arguing three minutes later.

Before Craig came on, we all got up and found good spots near the stage. Robbie and Nikki went straight for the middle of the crowd, but I dragged Henry over to the right and we parked ourselves right between French hooker and her friend, Other French hooker.

I was prepared for them to start screaming like Japanese girls at a Corey Feldman concert, but when Craig came out and started playing, they stood there, motionless and with stony faces.

Very weird.

OK, here is where I eat crow. I had really lost interest after the last time I went to one of Craig’s acoustic shows. It was boring, I thought it was weird that he kept doing Hulk Hogan-esque “I can’t hear you!” motions with his hands, and I was irritated that we drove through a snowstorm (true story, published in 2011) to essentially hear a roomful of teenage girls sing the songs instead of Craig. I was really worried it was going to be that way again. But nope. Craig came out, strapped on that guitar, and sang his fucking face off.

The ratio of Craig Singing : Fans Singing was exactly proportionate to what you want if you paid to hear one of your favorite singers sing his songs. I was OK with the singalongs. The vibes were positive. Craig seemed absolutely jubilant. His voice was on point.

And the setlist was diverse and spanned his career perfectly: from Chiodos to D.R.U.G.S, to Cinematic Sunrise to his recent collaboration with Before Their Eyes:

He and Pete teased the new song that we got to hear earlier that day at the Alternative Press office, but then at the last minute they stopped playing it, laughed, and went on to another song. I felt kind of smug because we had been lucky enough to hear that song multiple times in one sitting and it is a glorious jam!

He ended the show the same way he had the other times I had seen him solo: by jumping into the middle of the crowd and closing it down with “Baby, You Wouldn’t Last a Minute…” which will always be my favorite Chiodos song.

(Because Craig doesn’t perform Chiodos songs when he’s out on his own.)

Afterward, we ran over to the merch tables, where a line was forming for the meet and greet. Even though we had already met him earlier, my stomach was churning. But I at least wanted him to sign the tour screenprint that I bought, because why not.

“Look, that lady’s giving him the list she was writing in line,” I laughed, and we all watched as she basked in the attention Craig was giving her. “Jesus, that’s going to be me one day, isn’t it?

” I groaned rhetorically. Ugh, she was SUCH A MOM.

We were pretty close to the front, so before I was fully ready, it was our turn. Nikki and Robbie went first and Nikki, true to her word, asked Craig if he’s ever met Justin Bieber. (She’s a pretty big Belieber.) I know you’re dying to know the answer: Craig has not ever met Justin Bieber.

When it was my turn, I just gushed endlessly about he’s been like, an icon in my family for years and my kid has quite literally grown up listening to him (I showed him this picture on my phone, even though we gave Chiodos a copy of it at the 2013 Warped Tour), and he made all the right “I’m interested in what you’re saying” facial expressions and hand gestures. Nikki took this picture so here, I have proof that I’m not always invisible:

He signed my screenprint and said that he was really happy I bought one, that there were only 100 made (I got #3!) and that no two are exactly the same and again, I blew my chance to mention Loma Prieta, Hotel Books, or any of the other 6 unique topics I had on the tip of my tongue instead of opting for the typical fan-gushing. I am the actual worst at talking to musicians.

The lighting was terrible in this corner. I tried to take a group picture of Nikki and Robbie with Craig using the flash, but it was even worse. I wish we could go back and have a do-over!

You know what they say, you guys: those who meet Craig Owens together, stay together.

What a fucking epic day. I’ve been going to so many shows by myself lately, and it felt really great to have a crew there that night. Even Henry said, “Yeah. It was good” when normally his highest praise is “it wasn’t bad.” Henry actually said the g-word!

Going to work the next day sucked, but it was totally worth the exhaustion. Cleveland, you’re so close, yet so far away.

2 comments

At the last minute Monday morning, I bought a ticket to see Polyphia that night at the Smiling Moose. I saw them last year when they opened for Dance Gavin Dance and my heart immediately opened for them. I was never a big fan of prog, but I guess people change. People usually tell me I’m way off base when I make musical comparisons, but maybe my mind is just DIFFERENT ok? So if you asked me, I would tell you that Polyphia reminds me of the grandchildren of Chuck Mangione and Eric Johnson. Do with that what you will.

I’m still picky with this genre though. For instance, we saw Chon—another instrumental band in the same vein and they are actually taking Polyphia on tour with them next year—and while they were audibly pleasant, I was kind of bored.

Polyphia, however, did not bore me when I saw them last year.

Henry likes neither Chon not Polyphia, so this was another solo show for your girl ERK.

When I got to the Smiling Moose after work that night, there were strange vibes from the get-go. I wasn’t drinking that night because I really don’t want to rely on alcohol to help me get past my social anxiety, so that made it even worse because instead of killing time at the bar, I went right on upstairs where Save Us From the Archon were setting up and several small clusters of people were hanging out. Everyone always stops and stares at the girl who walks in alone.

Every time.

And it will never stop being incredibly uncomfortable for me. But…it’s either deal with it or miss a lot of great bands.

It got easier once more people arrived. Like this super tall guy who definitely commanded everyone’s attention so that I could go back to being a wallflower.

I thought he was going to stand in front of me the whole time, but was pleasantly surprised that he had enough concert couth to reposition himself in this one wall pocket near the side of the stage. Hats off to you, guy.

Once SUFTA started playing, my nerves were effectively shushed. This was my third time seeing them, and since they’re a local band, they typically inspire a lot of enthusiasm from the audience. I was really into it until halfway through when these two motherfuckers arrived and stood right in front of me. Look, I get it — these things are bound to happen, but they stood so close in front of me that my breath was making the fuzz sway on the back on the one guy’s peacoat.

And there were plenty of other open areas they could have stood.

AND THEN THEY TALKED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING.

They moved all the way up to the front after SUFTA. They were apparently friends with them and probably thought they were so badass coming to a show straight from their accounting jobs. Fuck those guys.

Whatever, SUFTA was insane as always and made my brain move around like a Rubik’s cube so I can’t be too mad.

In between sets, more people showed up and the front of the stage began to get more crowded. I watched as two docile, unassuming types took stage and got behind their respective drums and guitar.

“Hi guys,” said the guitarist in a fumbly kind of tone. “Our singer couldn’t make it tonight so um, we’re just going to an instrumental set for you.”

To myself, I’m thinking that this makes sense, given SUFTA and Polyphia are both instrumental. So the two guys start playing and it’s admittedly pretty heavy. I mean, my face wasn’t being melted off, but it was definitely more metal than the other bands.

Things were progressing nicely, people were moving around a bit, and then the breakdowns started.

This “oh shit” feeling come over me as the air in the room became pregnant with palpable doom. Amid the rustling in the crowd, I watched as a guy at the front of the stage turned around and charged right at me. “Fuck,” I sighed, bracing myself. But right before impact, he switched directions as though ricocheting off something invisible, and slammed into some guy who was big enough to absorb it without breaking a bone. And thus, the hardcore dancing started.

Moshing doesn’t bother me, but hardcore dancing is fucking obnoxious and dangerous. The Smiling Moose is extremely small, capacity is maybe 150? I’m no capacity expert, so that’s probably way off, but it is approximately the size of my downstairs. The room is as wide as the stage, which isn’t very wide at all. I always stand in the same spot at these shows — right near the front and against a wall. There was a line of us against this wall with no body-buffer on the other side of us. It was the wall, us, and then a bit of an empty space which is where all of the violent dance-spasms were performed.

This is all to say that I had nowhere to go and no one to shield me from the flailing limbs and flying fists.

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS!” I cried to myself, determined not to let them smell my fear. For the most part, these bros were doing an OK job of not body-slamming me, but there were quite a few sweaty backs I had to forcefully push back into the crowd, a couple of which knocked me off balance but  my friend Wall caught me every time. The kid behind me, bless his heart, protectively placed his hands on my arm a few time, like that was going to do anything to help. I probably would have been better off if Chooch had been behind me!

This went on in spurts. I watched as one of them grabbed the small, young guy in front of me and tossed him onto the floor and that poor guy had a very strong “ANTI-BRUTALITY” aura about him so I felt pretty bad for him. No actual fights broke out at least, even though there were some tense moments when I wasn’t sure.

But it would always end with jovial back-slaps and smiles and I just don’t get it, guys.

To each their own, but trying to not break a bone is not my idea of enjoying myself at a show.

For the last song, they called up “Dave” who was going to “help out” on vocals for the set-closer. Dave hadn’t even grabbed the mic yet and I was already gulping. If I had done my due diligence, I would have known that this was a local hardcore metal band called Delusions of Grandeur and I would have known to get in the back, maybe even all the way back to the bathroom, in a stall, crouched down with my head covered.

As soon as Dave emitted his first caterwaul, the meatheads got all riled up again and my “protector” declared that he was about to go fullblown windmill on this one.

And so he did.

And I had nowhere to go.

So I stood my ground, dodging fists and shoving bodies off of me, and then I got punched pretty hard in the arm and thought, “DO NOT CRY! DO NOT CRY! DON’T YOU DARE CRY!” So then I turned my fear into anger and stood my ground, prepared to throw down (I HAVE A TEMPER AND HIDDEN MUSCLES, OK?) while thinking, “I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS!” just as some bald-headed aging hardcore kid came rushing toward the stage from the back and added his own brand of nosebleed-waiting-to-happen dance moved. And this guy was easily Henry’s age.

But I did it! I endured their set without getting slaughtered and no one pulled my hair, which probably actually would have made me cry.

I hate having my hair pulled.

Just don’t touch my hair ever.

I briefly exchanged words with the drummer afterward as he was trying to push all of their gear into one of the wall pockets and I just couldn’t get over how this fucking nerdy little guy was in a band that incited such terror and aggression.

And then, for whatever reason, Polyphia ended up playing next, swapping spots with the fourth band in the line up and I had no problem with this, because my night was essentially done after being pummeled by flying flesh bags.

But Polyphia’s set was peaceful, beautiful, and worth the danger. I was glad that I fought to keep my spot because they are majestic to watch.

This guy especially:

I can’t remember the last time I saw such a perfect human being in person, but his face literally took my breath my away and I AM NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL. He was like some kind of angel and I had to keep rolling my tongue back into my mouth.

Peril aside, I left there loving Polyphia even more. There set was really short, adding to the weird vibes theme of the night. Everything about this night was off! But there was peace for Polyphia’s set and my adrenaline had finally reached A Normal Day levels by the time I left The Smiling Moose. And by “left,” I mean “pushed people out of my way, tried not to fall down the steps, and then burst through the door to reach that place where I was no longer surrounded by assholes.”

“There goes one of my assailants,” I texted Henry while waiting on a side street for him to pick me up. When I got in the car, smudged mascara and hair askew, Henry and Chooch just rolled their eyes at me. I felt like a new person.

A person who had just been picked up FROM PRISON.

***

The next day, I was telling my work friends about the night’s events which had turned into “I had to push some people off me and I got punched” to “I ALMOST DIED YOU GUYS!” Then we all watched this video together and Amber2 delightfully read out loud a sampling of the lyrics.

“Maybe it’s time for you to hang it up,” Glenn mumbled.

“YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” I cried.

At first, I was like, “I like heavy shit but this just isn’t for me.” But the more I watch this video, the more I actually like it.

Just next time, I’ll stand far away. Or outside. Someone can Periscope that shit for me.

We tried so hard to keep it a secret, but Robbie pretty much figured out right away that me, Henry and Nikki were taking him to Cleveland last Wednesday for the Craig Owens show. Henry and I weren’t sure if it was going to work out at all, since it was in the middle of the week, but Nikki super slickly went behind Robbie’s back and asked his boss to give him the day off. Once that happened, Henry bought the tickets and then we tried to come up with a plausible explanation as to why we were going to Cleveland on a random Wednesday, but stupid Bandsintown alerted Robbie that Craig Owens was playing that night, so he knew. It’s a lot easier to pull one over on our gullible 9-year-old, so I sometimes forget that everyone else wouldn’t just go along with a mysterious road trip without doing some serious investigating on their end.

Robbie loves Craig Owens even more than I do, so we thought it would be the perfect birthday/Christmas gift for him. Especially when our friend Jason mentioned that he could possibly get us access to the video session that was going to filmed earlier that day in the Alternative Press office. That meant we had to leave early on Wednesday, which really set off the alarms in Robbie’s head. Nikki said he was practically bullying her into telling him what was going on.

Surprises are so delightful!

We left an hour later than originally planned because Henry is the worst. Do you know how hard it was to sit in my house waiting for Henry to come home, when there were all these awkward vibes because everything was so suspicious?

< insert boring drive to Cleveland here. >

We arrived in Cleveland sometime after 1 and Nikki woke up from a nap.

“I had a dream that I asked Craig Owens how tall he is and he said he’s 5’10”,” she said. We all agreed that we felt like he was taller than that, so Robbie quickly googled and announced that Craig is, indeed, 6’2″. I wonder if Craig ever thinks about all the rando conversations his fans probably have about him on a daily basis. I mean, even Henry has talked about Craig’s hair A LOT over the years. He’s kind of obsessed with it and will always be the first one to notice if it’s changed since the last time. His only takeaway from the D.R.U.G.S. show we saw in 2011 was that “Craig’s hair is darker.”

We had just enough time to grab coffee and a quick poke through my favorite store of all time, Flower Child:

I had just ended a conversation with the owner about how much I love her shop and how I cried real tears when I was there a month ago and it was closed, when Henry got a text from Jason that said, “Get here NOW.” Henry barked, “Let’s go!” and whisked us out of the shop, which probably looked like we were the clumsiest shoplifters EVER. I can only imagine how suspicious we looked, tearing out of a shop that we had just entered a minute before, but I was too excited to be embarrassed.

“Where are we going?” Robbie asked nervously.

“We have to meet our friend Jason real quick. I have a case of root beer for him,” Henry stuttered.

I mean, that was partially true! Jason is a true root beer connoisseur and especially likes it bottled. So Henry brought a case of root beer from the Faygo Factory for him. This is why Jason likes Henry better than me. Well, that and because Henry doesn’t bring up Jonny Craig every single time we hang out with Jason.

And Robbie knew something was about to happen. He met Jason last year when we were in town for a Chiodos show at House of Blues; Jason met us at Melt for a quick hello and Robbie remembered that he was affiliated with Alternative Press, so even though there is no signage outside of the building that houses the office, it didn’t matter.

The jig was up!

“Don’t freak out,” I whispered over my shoulder as Jason keyed us through the AP door and led us into a back room where cameras were set up and Craig Owens was sitting on a stool, strumming his guitar and warming up.

Robbie’s face looked like this pretty much the whole time: somewhere frozen between a smile and a stroke.

Jason got chairs for us and basically bent over backward to make sure we were comfortable—he is such a stand-up guy! As if he hadn’t already done enough for us, now he was trying to give us more things. We promised him that we were fine, and after reminding us to turn off our phones, he retreated back to his office, because deadlines.

I accidentally took this blurry photo as I was tucking my phone away:

Jason warned me that the chair he gave me was kind of broken, which didn’t stop me from leaning back in it, and further and further back until I realized I was falling. I caught myself before anyone noticed and made sure to lean forward for the rest of the afternoon because I didn’t want to be That Person who disrupted filming.

Ugh, that would be so typical of me!

Craig performed two songs with his friend Pete: one was a song that was so brand new, Pete was having difficulties because they literally had just written the music for it the night before. Craig said it will be released sometime in 2016 as part of his new, top secret project. TOTALLY PIQUED.

The second song was off the new Before Their Eyes album which he produced. Both song were fantastic, but that first one was a stunner. Those two songs were being filmed for Periscope, but we got to hear the first one several more times when he was asked to play it again but with a more detailed introduction other than just, “This is…a song” which is how he had originally introduced it, ha! I love Craig.

When he finished performing the songs, he walked back over to where we were sitting so that he could join his friend (NICOLE RORK who is an exceptional photographer and I was low-key fangirling when I saw her there) and come up with some facts for the 10 Things You Didn’t Know segment that he had also agreed to film.

“Did it sound OK, guys?” he asked us, and we were all like, “HHHHHHHNNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHH YES.”

OK, Henry was way calmer than that.

I don’t want to give anything else away since these video segments haven’t been posted on Alternative Press’s website yet, but I just have to say that Craig is ridiculously interesting, multi-faceted, and extremely intelligent. Listening to him answer questions was riveting. All the behind-the-scenes minutiae was actually fascinating and I’m so humbled that we got to take it all in.

After about an hour of filming, he walked over to us and held out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Craig,” he said with a friendly smile and not the forced kind that Henry always adopts.

I’m sure internally, we were all like, “WE KNOWWW OMG!” but I feel like we kept it together and somehow managed to introduce ourselves without causing a nose bleed or biting off our tongues. He asked us how the drive from Pittsburgh was and Henry gave his stock answer, “Fine. Fine” while I blurted out, “BORING” and I think Robbie was just giggling at this point. Thankfully, Nikki was there to break the ice by telling Craig about her recent dream about him and his height.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tall!” he laughed. “Actually, all of the Chiodos guys are like, over 6 feet tall,” he added, and we were all like, “Oh wow,” with batted eyelashes and flirty giggles because CRAIG OWENS.

Somehow I was able to muster the courage and enough of my voice to thank Craig for allowing us to sit in on that. Thank you, Craig Owens, for being a true gentleman and so gracious to your fans.

(I love that there’s a Cure issue two above Robbie’s head in this picture!)

Before walking out to the parking lot with us to get the root beer, Jason asked again if we needed anything. “Any magazines? Anything at all? No, you’re good?” he asked, and we assured him that he had already done so much for us. Seriously, thank you Santa Pettigrew!

We were about to leave when Craig passed us in the parking lot. Thank god Nikki had the good sense to ask him if we could take his picture with Robbie. He very jovially agreed, at which point we all just stood there.

“Erin, take the picture,” Henry hissed. SORRY! I was in a Craig Owens daydream bubble. Henry’s burly tone snapped me out of it and I was somehow able to take the picture without fumbling for my phone.

We told him we’d see him later that night, and with a big smile, he said, “I hope you’re wearing your singalong pants!” I laughed along with everyone else, but I couldn’t help but feel a tiny pull of paranoia.

“Do you think he said that on purpose?!” Nikki whispered on the way back to the car, knowing that Craig and I had a…disagreement on Twitter four years ago because I wrote a bitchy blog post about how I went to his solo show and he let the audience sing most of his songs while he just stood there and held out his microphone. Look, my cat had just died and I was really emotionally fragile OK?! Nothing could have made me happy on that night.

But this particular night was about to be so much better. And we determined later that he probably didn’t mean anything by his singalong pants remark, thank god!

Afterward, we had about 90 minutes to kill before the actual show. We drove to Coventry in search of food, since none of us had eaten anything since breakfast, not like it mattered, because it probably would have gotten puked up anyway. (I mean, except Henry’s. Nothing fazes Henry.)

Big Fun is next to Tommy’s, so we popped over at dinner, hoping to find some toys to buy for the show. Anyone who brought a new toy or stuffed animal to the show got a meet and greet wristband. Even though we already had our time with him that afternoon, we wanted to do our part in helping out underprivileged children. Except Henry. He was like, “I don’t need no meet n greet bracelet, fuck off!”

Saul Berenson is big fun.

We wound up just going to a nearby Target, where I bought Candy Land, and Nikki bought a Mr. Potato Head and an exorbitantly-priced stuffed pony, which Robbie picked out with complete disregard to the price tag.

“Oh wow, that sucks,” I said when she told us how much it ended up costing her. “Mine was on sale for $4.”

“Mine was on sale for $4!” Nikki mimicked, and we all laughed. But then we all agreed that it was nice to do something charitable but Henry wouldn’t know what that’s like.

Doors to the Grog Shop weren’t open, so we stood in line where I thought about all the things I should have said to Craig.

**********

Things I Wish I Had Said To Craig:

• OMG I’m super stoked for the new Hotel Books that you produced!
• I love Lomo Prieta too! I saw them open for Pianos Become the Teeth last spring and they blew my mind!
• [SOMETHING ABOUT JONNY CRAIG!!!!]
• Do you like Artifex Pereo????
• What is your stance on the whole Blue Swan music movement and would you ever consider working with any of the bands in that genre?????
• WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOREIGN HORROR MOVIE!?!?
• And in response to his ironic Juggalo tattoo inside his lip: HENRY WORKS IN A FAYGO FACTORY!

Today, we’re going to Cleveland with Henry’s son Robbie and his girlfriend Nikki for the Craig Owens solo show at the Grog Shop. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen Craig solo and I’m excited but super nervous because he’s always been one of The Big Ones in my life, you know? Some of his words are tattooed on my arm, so to say that I think highly of him is kind of an understatement:

My all-time favorite Craig Owens experience was back in 2009 when Alisha and I went to see him, also at the Grog Shop. That was such a fun day and one of my favorite memories of Alisha, so today is making me miss her tons!

I love his solo work, but I will always love him in Chiodos the best. Chiodos was like the gateway drug into me becoming a scene kid back in 2006, so I’m sure Henry has mixed feelings about Craig too, haha. I just pointed this out to him and he did that laugh-without-mirth thing that he does when he wants everyone to know that he hates his life and nothing is amusing.

This is what I live for.

From the very first moment I first heard Dance Gavin Dance almost 9 years ago, I was instantly smitten. I was already neck-deep in the post-hardcore scene, but this just sounded so different to me. I obsessed hard and it quickly became the official soundtrack of 2008-2009, to the point where Henry had become numb to it. Through numerous line-up changes (including three singers!), I have never given up on them. So when they announced a few months ago that they’re celebrating their 10 years as a band with a tour, I knew I had to go even though Jonny Craig’s band, Slaves, was going to be there and I absolutely cannot stand them (I actually despise the other guys in that band more than I hate Jonny Craig, so you know it’s real). I felt like a hypocrite though, since I’ve said many times that I wasn’t going to support a single thing JC does anymore, but then Kara reasoned that I shouldn’t feel that way about this, because I love DGD so much and JC is a part of their history. So, I decided that I would go and just deal with it.

And I’m so happy that I did! It was mind-exploding. In addition to Slaves, Strawberry Girls and A Lot Like Birds were also on the tour, which meant all three DGD singers plus one former guitarist could potentially perform together. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I missed that! And I am a super huge Kurt Travis fan kid, so getting to hear him sing with ALLB and then DGD in one night was almost too much for me to handle. It’s been over 5 years since I’ve seen him perform with DGD so I was in sheer Heaven.

And seriously, this 15 second Instavid from ALLB’s set gives me unlimited heart-flops and goosebumps:

DGD’s set started out with their current singer, Tilian, who I do actually love a ton and he has really breathed new life into DGD. I love the direction they have been going with him and I’m happy to see that he’s survived through two albums so far!

With Tilian, they played some songs from Instant Gratification and Acceptance Speech:

• Stroke God, Millionaire
• On the Run
• Strawberry Swisher, Pt. 3
• Death of a Strawberry
• Jiggler
• Variation

The crowd was pretty great all night, but it was nuts for DGD. Especially anytime Jon Mess starts screaming. He is fucking beloved and more than anything, he is the one I would want to meet someday even though this entire band intimidates me so badly. I just think he’s a literal genius, 100%. Even HENRY likes Jon Mess and has said more than once that he’s his favorite DGD member, past or present. For Henry to even seriously answer that question is a huge deal. It was fun watching him do a slow clap after every song, too. HENRY IS A FAN.

After Variation, they left the stage while the Instant Gratification banner fell, revealing another one with a giant “X” made from all of their album covers. And then everyone returned, with Kurt Travis and Zachary Garren replacing Tilian and the current touring guitarist from Eidola. IT WAS FUCKING AMAZING.

With Kurt, they played:

• Tree Village
• Rock Solid

• And I Told Them I Invented Times New Roman
• Robot With Human Hair 2 1/2

This video isn’t from the Cleveland show, OH WELL. The only one I could find from that one was terrible.

I still don’t like Jonny Craig for personal reasons that admittedly have nothing to do with his music and I’m not sorry for that, but I have to say that it was pretty amazing getting to relive some of my favorite moments of DGD history, and especially hearing this song, it was just unbelievable. Discovering DGD really changed the course of my musical tastes and I will forever attribute that to Jonny Craig, because it was his fucking stupid golden voice that hooked me from the very first second and forced me to pay attention. DGD definitely isn’t a band for everyone and the only reason I even gave them that first play was based on their band name. So yes, sometimes judging a band by their name pays off.

• Uneasy Hearts Weigh the Most
• We Own the Night

I remember seeing ALLB on tour with DGD a few years back and thinking that for sure Kurt would come out and sing “Uneasy Hearts…” with them, since that song has dual-singers, but instead, Donovan from Hail the Sun did the honors. But on this night, Jonny, Kurt, AND Tilian all took turns singing it and my head and heart could barely handle the fact that ALL DGD SINGERS WERE ON THE SAME STAGE.

The show ended with just Tilian-era DGD blowing the roof off the joint with “We Own the Night.” I just wish that Dayshell hadn’t been on the tour so that maybe DGD would have played longer, giving Kurt and Jonny more stage time. Also, I hate Slaves and literally stood with my back toward the stage during their entire set* (which, by some grace of God, was cut short) but I understand why they were there, at least. It made sense to bring out the past singers’ current bands, and Strawberry Girls, but as far as I’m aware, there isn’t a real connection with Dayshell and DGD.

*(I’m not going to lie, Jonny sounded fine during his set with Slaves but the rest of the band sounds like a tinny landslide of shit-filled pots and pans. I’m not even saying  that because I hate those douchebags. They honestly just aren’t a good band and it sounded like they were just playing the music for the same song 4 times.)

But oh for fuck’s sake, I just can’t stop replaying this night over and over in my head and smiling and crying and then thanking Henry for taking me to Cleveland on a work night and then buying me this sweet ass screen print!!

DGD is in my Forever Top 5 and I can’t tell you how many times a day I think about the future tattoo I’m going to get to honor them. But it has to be epic. With strawberries and robots with human hair and the art of Mattias Adolfson (with his permission, of course). Because this band has made the music that is fucking everything to me.

I’m still wearing my House of Blues wristband. LE SIGH.

Are you at work right now, in dire need of looking for something to drown out keyboard strokes and coughing chokes? Something to break up the constant tirade of radio station Christmas carols? Well thank god today is my late shift and I’m home right now, listening to what’s good and I have some time to kill so why not post them here for maybe one or four people to listen to and either love, hate, or not care?

(I just sprayed one of my finished paintings with sealant and I inhaled a little bit and now I’m typing this while floating 8 feet in the air on a cotton candy pillow.)

1. OK KID – Heile Welt

German rap-emo hybrid. Don’t let the “rap” part deter you because this is the jam. I heard this on an emocore playlist and fell in la-la-love.

2. Hotel Books – Dreaming or Sinking

Henry rolled his eyes and sighed when I put this on once in the car because he dislikes this genre. Spoken word mashed with sad boy music and it’s perfection. The last I heard, they were working with Craig Owens a new album and I’m pretty stoked for that.

3. Before Their Eyes – We Won’t Make The Same Mistake Again (Feat. Hotel Books)

And when I first heard that Hotel Books was featured on this Before Their Eyes track, I was like, “No. That’s not going to work. How is that going to….Oh damn, this is perfection.” I used to LOVE BTE back in the day, when I was REALLY a scene kid, and I actually had no idea that they were even still making records, so this is just very pleasing to me all around.

4. Citizen – Figure You Out

So I cut you open so I could see you inside out.
And figure you out.

This definition of emocore on Urban Dictionary is so perfect: “the breaking point from where emo becomes so emotional that listening to it is like throwing your soul in an emotional wood chipper, once you hear it you will never feel happiness again.”

In other news:

• I’m still trying to make sense of my thoughts and feelings of the Dance Gavin Dance show from last week. One day soon I will write about it, hopefully while not abusing the CAPSLOCK. YOU KNOW HOW I GET!!!!111 Every time I sit down to write it, I start crying and wistfully watching YouTube videos from their recent shows and why can’t we just go back to that night, Henry, why!? Or more realistically — WHY DIDN’T WE TRY TO GO TO MORE THAN ONE SHOW!? Henry, you’re the worst.
• Yesterday, I half-jokingly texted Henry and asked him if we could go to next year’s Bledfest. His response was, “When is it?” Not “Where?” or “How much?” or “NO!!!” or “*I’m just going to ignore this text and go back to racing around the Faygo factory on my pallet jack*” So I told him it’s Memorial Day weekend in Michigan and then he was like, “There’s not even a lineup yet…?” and I was like “I don’t care because I know I will like it no matter what…?” and then he was like, “We’ll see” And then I was like “It’s really close to Bill and Jessi…?” and he was like, “*sigh*” but then he started looking up maps and shit on his phone so that basically means yes, we’re going to Bledfest. And Bill confirmed that he’s 99% sure they will be around that weekend, so basically we have to go now, Henry. Thanks bye.
• Ugh, Christmas. But yay – Secret Santa! Work is going to be really fun next week. I’m currently stressed out because my Secret Santa recipient always immediately knows it’s me every year because I can’t just be normal about it. Never forget when I was Glenn’s Secret Santa, LOLforever.

OK I hope you found a song or two out of this post that you liked! Go kiss a succulent for me today!

(Unless it’s a cactus. Then just maybe blow a kiss.)

Stuck here at work during the mayhem that we in Pittsburgh know as Light Up Night. Foxing is carrying me over the finish line and I’m in a sharing mood so might you listen to this video that I very generously included.

I plan on doing fuck all this weekend and I can’t wait. I never thought I’d say this without irony, but Netflix and chill for real.