So, this tour was announced yesterday and it’s a dream and a nightmare all at once. Slaves is Jonny Craig’s current band and I have been boycotting them for over a year now because GIRL POWER, etc. But….Dance Gavin Dance, A Lot Like Birds, AND Strawberry Girls all on one tour? (Strawberry Girl’s is Zach Garron’s band, and he also used to be in DGD).

When I first saw this yesterday at work, I almost fell out of my chair. Then I shoved my phone in Todd’s face and said, “TODD. LOOK. OMG UGH.” And Todd was like, “Oh shit! What ever will you do?” because poor Todd knows all about the Jonny Craig Conflict since he has to sit near me now. So I texted Henry who was just like “LOL” because not only is it Jonny Craig, but it’s also a show that will require us driving to Cleveland on a work night.

But then Chooch said he wants to go, too. “We just won’t pay attention to Slaves,” he said with a shrug. Like, duh. Just ignore them! We’ll stick our fingers in our ears and yell “lalala”!

Anyway, Kurt Travis posted on Facebook that in addition to singing with ALLB,  he’ll be coming out and doing some of his old songs with DGD, which makes me believe that Jonny will be doing the same, since this is a 10th anniversary tour, and you guys know that DGD is in my Top 5 favorite bands of all time.

I’m so conflicted!

I actually sat here and cried about it this morning because will I be a hypocrite if I go? I don’t want Jonny to get a single cent of my money, but I also really don’t miss seeing DGD (they were just here in August on the All Stars tour and I skipped it because I didn’t care for any of the other bands, it was right after we came home from vacation, and I didn’t want to spend $30 to see one band play for 45 minutes. I figured I’d just wait for their next headlining tour…Sigh.

So I called Henry and before I said anything, I blurted out, “OK I know you’re going to say no, but…” and then I told him about the Kurt Travis thing and what if he sings Happiness with them?! I have never heard that song live! And Henry said, “Well, I guess I can’t say no, then can I?”

OH MY GOD.

I might have a heart attack.

I really don’t want to deal with Jonny Craig, but this is an opportunity that I really feel like I can’t pass up because it’s DGD and ALLB, and there’s always the strong possibility that Jonny will do something fucked up between now and then to get himself kicked off the tour. (Also, it’s fucked that Slaves gets top billing over ALLB, but whatever.)

OK, that’s all. Thank you for walking down Freak Out Alley with me.

[disclaimer: my blog keeps smashing words together after I hit publish; that’s not actually me trying to form post hardcore band names out of everyday sentences.]

We were duped by Riot Fest again. They said “Gates open at 11, guys!” and we fell for it. Our Lyft driver, Bobby (he asked us to tell him things about Pittsburgh and he definitely doesn’t want a Primanti’s sandwich, guys), got us there promptly at 11, only for us to stand in line for 90 MINUTES. Why you do this, Riot Fest? Why so mean? Aside from having a musical know-it-all standing behind us (talking about Gwar like he didn’t know Oderus died, though) and then being rained on for 30 minutes, it wasn’t the worst line I’ve ever stood in.

But then the lines started moving and we were one of the first 50 to be let in. It’s so strange being there that early, before any of the stages are bumpin’, none of the food vendors are ready, and people are just roaming around aimlessly in an attempt to familiarize themselves with the grounds.

This was the first year for Douglas Park to host the festival. When Riot Fest started 10+ years ago, it was actually just a bunch of shows split up around different venues of Chicago. It was only within the last 4 or so years that it became the sizable festival that it is today. Since 2012, it was held in Humboldt Park, but after last year, Humboldt Park was like, “Hell to the no,” so the organizers were forced to move it to nearby Douglas Park. Douglas is smaller than Humboldt, so the layout had the stages closer together. A lot of people were complaining about this, but I kind of liked that it was easier to run from stage to stage — last year, two of the stages were so far apart from each other, god help you if you were trying to split your time between the two of them. Henry and I practically walked the soles off our boots last year. It was a lot more hectic and the I’M GONNA BE LATE sensation that I’m so susceptible to really put a damper on my fun at times.

I’m tightly wound. And I have found that I describe myself this way so often, that it’s got to be a future tattoo.

First thing we did once we got through the gates was sign up to be bone marrow donors, which involved having the inside of our cheeks swabbed, so that was an unusual way to start things off, but you know me, such philanthropy.

“Does it hurt, donating bone marrow?” I asked Henry after we walked away with our BONE MARROW DONOR cards.

Henry just smirked at me. “Uh, yeah.”

Fuck.

In an effort to dial back the amount of information I’m tempted to cram down the Internet’s throat, I am going to now make a list of the bands that we saw on Day One, even if it was just a partial set, and then briefly (LOL, what’s that word mean?) talk about the highlights. EVERYSINGLETHING! It was all a highlight! OK, but really. I’m going to try to do this. Henry’s comments/thoughts/reviews are indented.

Bands We Saw On Friday

• Coathangers –  I really am not a fan of girl bands. Luckily, we were just strolling past while they were christening the main stage.
• Into It. Over It. – I’ve wanted to see them for quiet some time so I was excited that this would be the first band of the day for us. Henry was not impressed. My favorite part was when Evan stopped playing a few notes into a song and said, “No. Fuck that. You people paid a lot of money to be here and I’m not playing this song out of fucking tune” before starting over. Respect.
  • I don’t remember.

• Real Friends – I missed them at Warped Tour in July, but was like, “It’s fine, they’ll be at Riot Fest, so…” but then their set overlapped with Mariachi El Bronx, so I only got to stick around for two songs before running to the Roots stage for a Mexican dance party.
  • We’re not real friends. At all.
• Mariachi El Bronx!! – God, I love this band! It’s literally the mariachi side project of the Bronx, a band that I used to really love but admittedly haven’t listened to in a while. I saw Mariachi El Bronx once at Warped Tour years ago and they stole my gringo heart. Even Henry smiled a little bit. Go listen to them if you’re having a bad day or so hungry that you’re not sure what you want to eat. 
  • Nope.

• Bayside – I don’t care how many times I have seen them, I can never miss an opportunity to hear my heart breaker jam “Don’t Call Me Peanut.” Chooch used to love that song when he was younger and would sing it quietly from the backseat, so I got all sad-eyed and missed him a ton during their set. I was a late-comer to the Bayside scene and never really bothered with them until 2009 when I saw Anthony Ranieri on the Where’s the Band? tour, which also featured Chris Conley, Matt Pryor, and Dustin Kensrue. What a fucking lineup of heart-eye emojis before heart-eye emojis existed. That’s one show I would love to relive. Anyway, Anthony ended up winning my idiot heart that day and I have been a Bayside fan ever since, but I still feel likean00b every time I’m in that crowd.  Anyway, go listen to Bayside. It’s like being hugged by someone you don’t mind touching.
  • It’s a band.

• Every Time I Die: I always, always, always miss this damn band every time they play Warped. But not on this day,motherfuckers. We got a good spot near the side and Henry was like, “Who are these guys again?” and seemed pretty relaxed during the intro where they played the theme to Perfect Strangers, like it wasgoingto be a bunchofBalkiBartokomouses andCousinLarrys playing chill 1980s sitcom scores on mandolins. But then Keith Buckley and crew came storming out andHenrysighed. I really liked what I heard/saw butmyactual highlight of their set has nothing to do with the music — we were standing right next to the press gate so after a few songs, a throng of photographers came filing out. I happened to glance at one of them and realized that she looked super familiar. “I think that’s Ashley Olson!” I shouted into Henry’s face. “WHO?!” he asked. I just rolled my eyes because he is so old and dumb and this just proves that he clearly never listens to me when I talk about my interests. Anyway, Ashley is one of the best up-and-coming music photographers I have seen lately. I started noticing her last year when she was on tour with Chiodos, because Craig Owens would always regram her photos and they were stunning. And I never use the word “stunning.”I’ve been following her on Instagram ever since, and her Warped Tour photos this summer just blew my mind. Plus, she has good taste in bands, so. She ended up walking away and I regretted notsayinghi to her. (I even double-checked on Instagram to make sure it was her, and her most recent post was from Riot Fest, so I figured that was a pretty good sign, haha.) Halfway through ETID’s set, she came back! She was standing in front of me for a minute, getting in some more shots, and then she retreated. The guy she was with was still standing in front of me, talking to someone, so she was just hanging back, waiting for him. I really dislike approaching people because I get so awkward and creepy, but I said to Henry, “Ok, I’m going in…” and dove right the fuck into Small Talk Ocean. And it went, well, swimmingly! (God, my writing skills just slay.) I thought it was going to be a “hi/bye” type of transaction, but we ended up having a nice, meaningful chat for several minutes, during which she hugged me TWICE, and said that she had noticed me earlier because I was wearing my (ugh, Chooch’s) Emarosa “For Fox Sake” shirt. So we chatted about how wonderful those guys are and I said, “My 9-year-old son met Bradley this summer at Warped—” Ashley cut me off to say, “You do NOT have a 9-year-old son.” I laughed and said, “I do! I’m 36!” and she was genuinely surprised and kept saying, “NO YOU’RE NOT!” I enjoyed the moment because I know my extended youth is fleeting and these days are slipping through my fingers. I’m reminded of this every time I look in the mirror and see more gray hairs and deeper bags under my eyes. Ashley gave me a sticker and we tookaselfie. “That’s really cute!” she said when I showed her, and asked me to tag her in it so she could save it. I think I’m getting better at talking to strangers! I’ll be kidnapped any day now. 
  • It all runs together after awhile.

Henry was like, “You and all your weird Instagram crushes” when I excitedly showed him the picture. I was happy that he didn’t come with me when I was talking to her because who brings their dad to Riot Fest, you know?

• Coheed & Cambria: Heard part of their set while roaming around. I used to really like them when they first came onto the scene but then I stopped for no real reason. Their drummer is a douchebag on Twitter, that much I know; tweeting shitty things to Jonny Craig’s ex-fiancee and it’s like, “Why do you care? Don’t you have some lame hip hop rhymes to lay down?”

• THRICE: You know how your elderly Uncle Milton is always telling the same stale-ass war story every time you sit down at the kids table to eat fucking figgy pudding, supposing you live inside a Christmas carol? Well, just call me Uncle Milt because DID YOU KNOW THAT MY KID IS NAMED AFTER THE DRUMMER IN THRICE? Well he is. It’s true. (His real name is Riley,btw.) And I am contractually obligated to mention that every single time I write on my blog about Thrice, or text someone about Thrice, or hear the song Three Times a Lady by Lionel Richie. CHOOCH WILL LOSE HIS NAME IF I DON’T. And then that fucker Bastion from Never-ending Story will have to give him a new one and it’ll be something stupid. Like Chooch.Ok Ok Ok, let’s reel it back in here for a second. Thrice is one of my all-time favorite bands and I won’t get too whiny about it because there are definitely more than one lengthy post in the archives about my love for them, so I will give you the truncated version: The last time I saw them was in 2009 and then they went on hiatus and everyone was like WILL THRICE EVER COME BACK!? They played a show (one show) a few months ago and I knew, I just fucking knew, that they were going to be announced for this year’s Riot Fest and I was fucking right because I spend way too much time analyzing this shit. There were three bands that were announced last May for Riot Fest that made me fall to my knees and beg Henry, and Thrice was one. I was fucking giddy all day, but then right before their set, my stomach got all knotted and my eyes got all moist and sting-y, and I knew I was in for it. Yep, I cried for most of their set—which was SO FUCKING GOOD and it alone was worth the drive to Chicago. Crowd was great and really into it and it felt sogoodto be there in the middle of it all. My connection with Thrice is on another level. Like some spiritual shit. This Riot Fest moment was brought to you by some strong 2003 feels.
  • They’re ok.

Those clouds, tho. Thrice was literally bringing Heaven down to earth. OH YEAH, I WENT THERE.

• Faith No More: Friends. This is the top reason I had to go to Riot Fest. Faith No More is one of the few bands that I never grew out; they’ve stuck with me through every musical phase I’ve gone through, from gangsta rap to synthpop. I was in middle school when I first heard Midlife Crisis (back when it was cool to discover new music on MTV!) and it was the first “heavy” band that appealed to me and I was like OMG someone take me to the mall right this instant so I can buy thatfuckingcassingle (which I still have!). I can’t say that they were a gateway band for me though, because they were literally the only metal-type band that I liked until junior year when I became a closet Marilyn Manson aficionado. Naturally,FNM would go on  to break-up before I ever had the chance to see them, so that sucked. (I did get to see Mike Patton’s sideprojectFantomas though, in 2000…or 2001?) As 7:45 approached, I started to freak the fuck out—I was so giddy and excited and probably super annoying forHenryto be around. (I mean,moreso.)FNM was headlining the second main stage, so there was a huge crowd there. We got a decent spot on the right side, andIwas relieved that there weren’t anydrunkdouchebags around us. Everyone was cool and excited, if not a little disappointed that they were only given an hour to play. But for someone who had never seen them before that night, an hour felt like a fucking gift. I thought it was fantastic — they sounded great, they played most everything I wanted to hear (unpopular opinion, but I REALLY like “Stripsearch” and would have maybe fainted if they played it), obviously MIDLIFE CRISIS. Just hearing Mike Patton’s otherworldly voice traveling across that park gave me chills. I have chills again just writing about it. Also, it wasreallychilly. This was definitely one of the Top 3 moments of the weekend for me, and I just kept murmuring, “That was so fucking amazing.” I need to invent some new adjectives to use when talking about music because “amazing” just doesn’t cut it anymore. The only downside was when Mike Patton told everyone to snap their fingers. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SNAP MY FINGERS,MIKEPATTON!
  • They were good.

Setlist, according to the Internet (it looks right to me):

1. Motherfucker
2. Be Aggressive
3. Caffeine
4. Evidence
5. Epic
6. Black Friday
7. Midlife Crisis
8. Gentle Art of Making Enemies
9. Easy
10. Separation Anxiety
11. Ashes to Ashes
12. Superhero
13. Introduce Yourself

I still can’t believe No Doubt got to play longer than Faith No More. I mean, I can, because Americans have a knack for making mediocre bands rise above the good ones. But, THAT’S A POST FOR ANOTHER DAY, SMILY FACE.

• Ice Cube: Immediately after FNM ended, the main stage to the left came to life and I couldn’t get out of that area fast enough because — No Doubt. Words cannot express how much I dislike that band and Gwen Stefani. And maybe I’m biased, but holy shit they sounded atrocious. Not just her cat-in-heat voice, but the whole band. I know, I’m full of the unpopular opinions tonight. That band just gets under my skin for some reason that I can’t explain; it’s not even like I associate them with bad memories or anything. They just have never sounded pleasant to my particular ears. I remember in high school when No Doubt was playing at Starlake and pretty much every fucking female I knew went to that show, regardless of how much they liked them, if at all. I was like “Lol, nope,” stayed home and listened to Spanish gangsta rap, probably. Anyway, back to 2015: Henry and I finally made it across the park to the Roots stage, where Ice Cube was about to headline. I had no fucking qualms with Bye Felicia’ing No Doubt in favor of Ice Cube. I was never even really a big Ice Cube fan, but my inner Yo Girl was definitely curious to see his set, which to be honest was mostly one long commercial for Straight Outta Compton, but it was high-energy, he sounded great, and the crowd was fucking going nuts. There were people climbing trees, trying to get a better view. His special guests were his son, MC Ren, and Yella. Some people were speculating that it was going to be Dr. Dre, and if I had been one of those people, I would have stayed for the whole set to find out. But I was pretty confident that Dre wasn’t going to show up to perform for an hour on a stage that wasn’t even the main one. So we left after I got to hear Check Yo Self, which I have to admit, was pretty fucking cool.

Douglas Park didn’t have any lights so if you weren’t close to a stage, good luck. There was lots of stumbling and stepping in invisible mud pits on the way to the exit, and then a long walk into the sketchier area of the neighborhood, looking for the designated Lyft pick-up area, which is one of the reasons I could never go to Riot Fest alone: there are too many things you have to know about! Too many logistics! Thank god Henry looks into all of this or I’d probably be sleeping on a bench in Douglas Park right now instead of blogging in my dining room.

So, impromptu props to Papa H for getting me there and back all three days with absolutely no incident.

***

We got back to our shitty hotel after a pleasant ride with a Lyft driver (“You were really talkative with tonight’s Lyft driver; you must be hammered,” Henry observed, to which I clarified that I was not hammered from the ONE Strongbow I drank eight hours earlier, but that it was because I thought the driver was cute, duh) and I collapsed onto the bed and cried, “TONIGHT WAS FUCKING AWESOME.”

Then we fell asleep to Jaws, which was also on when we left earlier that morning, too.

GOD, EVERYTHING WAS SO PERFECT THAT DAY.

While I’m trying to sort through my cluttered, unsophisticated 15-year-old’s diary full of thoughts on all the bands I saw this past weekend, let’s talk instead about the VENDORS.

Music festivals are RUDE. You’ve already spent Heaven’s rent on a ticket (and if it’s more than a one-day festival, plan on eating lots of pb&j for the next month since you just sacrificed  your grocery money) and now there’s all these food vendors and merch tents lining up to take your car payment too.

I mean, unless you do a better job at planning for these things than I do. Which, thankfully, Henry does. He had been saving for months! What a novel idea that I didn’t even consider.

The downside to this is that he had been hoarding actual cash money so that we wouldn’t have to use our debit cards at all that weekend. I say “downside” because that money was in HIS wallet so I had to constantly ask him if I could buy things and I felt like Chooch, begging for every shiny thing.

What a strong, independent woman I am!

I’m so used to going to Warped Tour, where we’re at the mercy of the venue-provided food options. And it’s overpriced bullshit food too, like chicken tenders and nachos that cost $10. A vegetarian’s nightmare. But Riot Fest is a foodtruck Valhalla, and almost every food vendor has vegetarian fare for all of us plant gourmands. I was really sad last year because I felt like I didn’t have time to take advantage of this bevy of meatless options lining the perimeter of Humboldt Park. This year, I vowed to eat a shit ton of foods!

Aaaaand….I failed to eat a shit ton of foods. I’m sorry, but food < music. All three days, we grabbed something quickly for lunch before hitting the stages, and if there was enough downtime in between bands at some point, I would declare that a second feeding was allowed.

Henry didn’t like this rigid feeding schedule that I put us on, but shit gets real out there in the field, OK? Those food lines get so long after a certain point in the day and that’s time that I just don’t have to waste.

Day One:

As soon as I saw the Dark Matter tent, I was ON IT. I have been smitten with this coffee ever since last year’s Riot Fest, and I occasionally order bags of their coffee online—they’re the reason I drop-kicked my Keurig to the curb and bought a French press. God love them.

Henry handed me some cash and took off for a porta-potty, leaving me to approach the Dark Matter tent with way too much enthusiasm. There is something about Henry’s presence that keeps my exuberance dialed back (I think this is also known as STIFLING), so anytime he leaves me alone, I can get kind of over-the-top.

Like a dog off its leash.

“I LOVE YOUR COFFEE,” I yelled at the guy in lieu of saying of hello. I don’t even know if he is the Dark Matter guy. I don’t think he was expecting to be yelled at in such a positive matter that soon after the gates opened. “I’M FROM PITTSBURGH AND SOMETIMES I FIND MYSELF SITTING AT WORK, DREAMING OF DARK MATTER.”

“Oh wow, that’s really cool!” he said after I finally shut the fuck up. “Here, take some stickers and a pin,” he insisted, pointing to the free shit along the counter. And then, after filling up a cup for me, he said, “Wait right here,” before walking to the back of the tent.

Henry had returned by then and asked me why I was still standing there.

“I don’t know, he told me to wait here,” I shrugged, dreamily sipping my cup of wet happy. And then the Dark Matter guy came back and handed me a free t-shirt!

God, I love Dark Matter.

And I love Riot Fest.

AND I LOVE YOU.

(I didn’t bother giving my nails a fresh painting for Riot Fest. They barely hold up during a regular show, let alone a three day fest.)

Quickly scarfed down a vegan taco from Tica’s Tacos. It was OK. It had a plantain on it and plantains are good. But all I cared about was chewing that shit up quick-like and running to the next stage. Henry ate ribs or something. I’m not sure.

I made a mess of my taco.

I was really excited about Puffs of Doom after Googling them when the Riot Fest food vendors were announced.I was going to get some banana Nutella concoction but at the last minute decided that my mouth was feeling particularly contrary to bananas that evening (I have flip-flopping taste buds) so I yelled “NO GET THE PEACH ONE” to Henry who has to do all of my food ordering because I get anxiety. (I hate decisions!)

I’m OK in actual restaurants though. I just get nervous when there is a line of hungry people behind me waiting to order their food and here I am, being in the way as usual, god forbid.

And there’s another tangent no one cares about.

The peach thing was just OK. I split it with Henry and usually I want to eat all of things for myself. He ended up getting some delicious white chocolate dessert egg roll thing and split that with me and it was much more delightful than my peach puff.

Henry had fries for dinner because it was the shortest line and Faith No More was about to start; I had nothing because in case you missed it, Faith No More was about to start!  Food was the last thing on my feeble mind at that point.

I had a late vending machine feast at the “hotel” – generic chex mix and half of a Snickers. Concert lyfe,  y’all.

Day 2:

Older than Henry!

We got some Connie’s deep dish as soon as we arrived at Douglas Park. I know, I know, it’s no Giordano’s or whatever, but it got the job done.

Later I had Guinness ice cream because I love beer-flavored food but not beer-flavored beer. It was really good. That’s my Yelp review.

Dinner was another hectic scramble because we had a very small window of time and everything was crowded except for that idiotic Puffs of Doom place and some Billy Goat burger stand next door. So I had a savory artichoke puff which I ate so fast because I was in such a hurry to get to Billy Idol’s stage  that I don’t even remember what it tasted like. Spinach artichoke dip inside of a puff pastry, I’m going to wager.

Day 3:

Again, we got there before any of the bands started, so we hit up the Fat Shallot, where Henry got some type of weener and I got a grilled cheese. It wasn’t too fancy, but it got the job done. I don’t know why I was so excited about the food vendors being announced, because I knew that this was going to be a weekend of eating out of necessity and nothing more. To be honest, I probably could have gotten by on protein bars. Goddamn Henry, throwing wrenches in my festival schedule with his annoying habit always having to eat.

We spent a good portion of Sunday afternoon at the two smaller stages because the lineup over there was tight as fuck. Dinky Donuts was in the vicinity, so Henry bought a bag of chili cinnamon ones and they were so moist. MOIST MOIST MOIST.

Warm and moist.

I loved them.

We split curry fries later that night while waiting for Snoop Dogg.

I know, we really lived it up.

As far as merch goes, there was so much I wanted! One of my favorite Etsy sellers, Martha Rotten, had a booth there. (Not to burst your bubble, but her name is FRANCENE not Martha.) I was excited to meet her in real life, and we had the most awkward exchange of all time, because ETSY PEOPLE ARE AWKWARD. I should know. I’m one of them.

Anyway, I own one lone Martha Rotten piece:

I was really trying hard to add to my strange jewelry collection (she has a pewter Last Supper cuff that I had my eyes on) and I think that Henry was actually going to cave and give me money (Weak, Dependent Woman Almost Gets Permission From Big Man, story on page 6) but you know what happened next? I suddenly turned selfless and decided that I would just buy something from her shop at a later date, and instead just bought my KID things because I missed him so much and like my mom before me, I know all about buying a child’s love.

We bought him this cat shirt from Harebrained Designs (they’re partners with Period Panties, lol):

And one of my favorite t-shirt companies of all time, Choonimals, was there again! I’ve been following these guys for years, ever since they first started popping up at Warped Tour. This past summer, they actually partnered with Warped Tour and not only sponsored the two main stages, but also designed the 3D commemorative ticket for 2015. I love their animal designs so much and as usual, it was tough to choose one, and I started to get real gushy at this booth too, like the t-shirt version of Dark Matter coffee. “I GO TO WARPED TOUR EVERY YEAR AND JUST LOVE CHOONIMALS AHHHHHHH” as I shoved my bulging eyeballs back into their sockets. Henry was like, “OK PICK A SHIRT SO WE CAN LEAVE BEFORE THIS MAN CALLS THE COPS.” We ultimately settled on this one for Chooch, which he’s excited to wear for picture day:

It was cute — he was like Choonimals!! as soon as I pulled it out of my Epitaph bag.

Last year, this artist–-ChuckU—was there and I was drooling over his prints but Henry was like POOR PEOPLE DON’T BUY ART, MOVE ALONG. This year, I finally talked him into buying one of the cat designs for Chooch, who already has the best cat art collection in his room.

Some of my other favorite vendors were there again too, like Then Now Always (I bought one of their necklaces at Riot Fest last year and every time I wear it, I feel happy) and KoalaCore (the best t-shirts!) but Henry kept reminding me of his blue collar status and also the fact that we’re going to Philly this weekend and we don’t want to sleep in the car, do we? I hate having his gruff voice of reason in my ear CONSTANTLY.

(Don’t even make me calculate all the money he spent on beer, though! But, I guess he had to numb the pain somehow.)

Stheart was there again too and I was straight casing their tent; I think I was alarming them. I just really wanted Henry to buy himself one of their slouch beanies because I like him in beanies but I like him best in SLOUCH beanies because then he looks slightly more my type. He was so close to picking one out but then was like “NOT RIGHT NOW” so I guess I’ll just get him seven of them for Christmas, along with a closetful of fitted flannels, gray jeans, TOMS, a neck tattoo, and The Artist In the Ambulance on vinyl.

***

Today at work, I low-key cried at my desk because my body is nothing more than a giant flesh-chalice of  emo blood and I can’t even go to a club show without collapsing into a melodramatic lump of post-show depression, so how do you think I’m handling the first week after three entire days worth of music? NOT VERY GRACEFULLY.  I will try not to be too ridiculous with my music recap posts. NO PROMISES.

Henry’s response to my “I JUST CRIED AT MY DESK, WAH RIOT FEST” text was “oh erin.” He must have been too tired to type out “honestly.”

I’m very fragile right now. Handle with care.

Today was the last day of Riot Fest and I decided to take some Hipstamatic pics because how goddamn cliché and basic.  
“Why does this feel like Day 16….”

 We accidentally got there today too early and walked right in, because our Lyft driver (Venus, she was THE BOMB) dropped us off at an alternate gate that apparently no one uses. We had like an hour to roam around and finally get our shopping done (I wanted to buy Chooch every single cat shirt we saw but Henry was like I AM A WAREHOUSE MANAGER AND YOU ARE AN OFFICE LACKEY, WE DO NOT HAVE MUCH $$$ LEFT, HELLO.  Then we went to the area where the two smallest stages are and waited for Signals Midwest and Foxtrott to start our day off.

Yesterday, after I was joyfully jumping through mud puddles with wanton abandon, Henry asked me if my boots were waterproof.

“Yeah, duh,” I said. And then I stomped through another filth swamp and said, “Ew wait….no.”

The weather today was gorgeous (low 70s and sun all day) but there was still mud everywhere. Henry was such a bitch about it too. Like “OMG EW MUD” and he would jerk me another direction.
What a man.  
During Hum’s set. I was late getting there because I fell in love with Souvenirs.

 I was really fond of the sound that my boots made every time I pulled them out of the muddy quicksands, even after I realized they weren’t waterproof, I figured, what did I care. I’m not the one who does laundry.  

“THE RIDES ARE $5 A TICKET, ERIN. AND EACH RIDE IS MORE THAN ONE TICKET!” – when I asked Henry why we never ride anything.

  
New Politics.

 These were some MOIST MOTHERFUCKERS. The chili cinnamon ones were A+. I wish I had some right now.   I took so many sips of Henry beer all weekend that I think I like it now. (I’m not a big drinker at shows so for all three days, I actually only had two Strongbows.)

  
Looking at his phone and doing the math: 2 more hours until Riot Fest ends.

 If you hate when I write about music and shows, then probably avoid my blog for the next week because it’s going to be Riot Fest word diarrhea all up in this blog commode. SO MUCH HAPPENED! I love this weekend!!

    On our way back to the hotel after a beautiful, chill first day of Riot Fest. The weather was awful when we were waiting in line (of course the gates didn’t open until 90 minutes after they were supposed to) but it was gorgeous for the rest of the day. No repeats of last year!

The drive to Chicago was super uneventful. We left after work yesterday and drove as far as South Bend, IN and crashed at the Waterford, which is my favorite hotel in South Bend. (Also the only one I’ve ever stayed at, but Henry was going to book a different hotel and I flipped out because WATERFORD.) Got to Chicago around 9:30 and then Bobby from Lyft carted our asses to Douglas Park. So many beautiful bands were seen today. 

Here’s a picture of Henry giving some French Canadian broad directions in a city he doesn’t even live in. Professional driver 4 lyfe.  
I’m really looking forward to taking my boots off and hounding Henry about what parts of today were his favorite. I feel so heart-eyed right now. 

Not even the dump Henry has us staying in can ruin that. (But it comes close. Hilariously, Golden Girls is on right now and Rose, talking about Miles, just said, “He’s not just frugal, he’s frickenfrugal! What, it’s a Scandinavian term.” #apropos.)

Anyone who even casually knows me would probably say “obvi duh” upon hearing me declare that Warped Tour is my favorite day of every summer. And probably punctuate it with an eye roll. But it really is the one day a year that helps me relate a little bit to religious zealots, because being around so many of “my people” at once is a really powerful, exciting feeling. Much like being at one of those colossal mega-churches with people passing out and screaming.

A few weeks ago, I made a poster of all of my pictures from this year’s Warped Tour, which was one of my favorites.

And I feel weird saying that, because this year’s was rife was drama and controversy, starting with the allegations against Front Porch Step earlier in the year. This has been written about ad nauseum on the Internet, so I’ll keep it short: Jack Mcelfresh, the singer behind the Front Porch Step moniker, was using his scene status to lure underage girls via social media. Several of them finally spoke out about it via Tumblr, complete with screen shots of text messages and gross pictures he was sending them. I had never heard of him until we took Chooch to see Never Shout Never in Cleveland in 2013. We were hanging out by his merch table most of the night and he gave Chooch a free poster, which I thought was so nice, but also — we were there with the editor in chief of Alternative Press, so I’m not stupid. If I wanted my music to be acknowledged by the biggest publication supporting my scene, I’d give out free shit to a kid, too.

Now I just feel gross about it.

FPS ultimately was removed from Warped Tour; literally no one wanted to see his face after all of this. But then he made a surprise one-off appearance at the Nashville date which inspired massive outcry and widespread disappointment from those who had the misfortune of stumbling across him that day and everyone following along from home. This really put Warped Tour and its founder, Kevin Lyman, under a lot of fire and public scrutiny. Kevin defended his choice to allow Jake play in the Acoustic Basement that day by stating that he was working with Jake’s counselors and that this was part of his recovery process. While I have mad respect for Kevin Lyman for organizing my favorite music festival year after year, I will be the first to admit that this guy just shouldn’t even give statements to the media and he definitely should think harder before tweeting his opinions, because he is a master word-mincer. Every time he opens his mouth, he makes it worse! So he basically made himself look like a misogynist (and I truly don’t believe that he actually is) while essentially minimizing the issue at hand. Jake Mcelfresh is not the victim in this situation and he should not have been given a platform, even if it was only for one Warped Tour date.

That shouldn’t have even been an option. I will hand it to Kevin though, he made himself available every morning and invited any concerned fan to come and speak to him directly about this before the show.

So that was one big issue, and it was enough to start the #boycottwarped hashtag.

The second involved my old buddy, Jonny Craig! It’s never a dull moment with him. Quick backstory: the last time he played Warped Tour was in 2010, back when he was still in Emarosa. He caused a lot of drama and Kevin Lyman had to get Jonny’s mom to come out so they could attempt an intervention. Ultimately, he was told he’d never be allowed to play Warped again. But for whatever reason, Kevin decided to give Jonny a second chance, so five years later his new band Slaves was invited to play the second leg of Warped. (Emarosa played the first half.) Of course, Jonny started off by being super cocky about it, because everything Emarosa does, he thinks his idiot band can do better.

They managed to play…three dates, I think? Then people started commented on Jonny’s Instagram asking things like, “Hey, why didn’t you guys play today?” and of course, no one would respond. Well, Jonny sexually harassed their merch girl; it’s believed that he shoved his crotch in her face and made her touch him. I know, so uncharacteristic of him! He never even denied it, but still managed to make it worse by choosing douchey ways to express that what he did wasn’t “wrong.” He flat out replied “lol” to the merch girl’s vague tweet about how upsetting it is when alcohol turns decent people into monsters, which turned out to be her discreet way of alluding to what happened to her. Girl was traumatized, and rightfully so — she had only just met the band days earlier.

Some girl named Shelby who has known Jonny for some time and has also worked as his merch girl in the past, posted this ridiculous defense of Slaves online, about how women need to have thick skins to work in the music industry and that you have to expect things like this to happen, and how she can attest, without even being there, that Jonny was just joking around and that if you can’t “be one of the guys,” you should find a different job.

WHAT A WONDERFUL WOMAN! Teaching all these girls out there that they should just expect to be groped and humiliated by men, and if they can’t handle it, they’re clearly weak Lesser-Thans, right? So fucking sickening. Way to leave your own dirty finger print on rape culture, lady! The last line — really? So this girl should just go home and then Slaves can just carry on the rest of the tour like nothing happened? She should be punished but not them? I just…I can’t.

The bottom line is that being a merch person is still a job. Do you go to work expecting to be sexually harassed? Me either. So why should Slaves’ merch girl? She was just trying to make a living like everyone else.

All of this culminated into a huge divide behind the scenes at Warped Tour. First, Kevin kicked them off the tour, but then decided, for whatever reason, to let everyone involved in Warped Tour decide the fate of Slaves. They had a town hall meeting one Saturday night after all the fans were gone, where everyone was invited to say their piece, and then vote on whether Slaves should be kicked off or not. I have become Twitter friends with Jonny’s ex-fiancee, Amanda, over the last year, and she had a friend who was at the town hall meeting that night. She and I DM’d each other for hours that evening, on pins and needles waiting for the outcome.

Can I just pause for a second to say that this is a band full of dickhead members who tweet things like this?

Alex Lyman is the Slaves guitarist, and I honestly think he’s worse than Jonny Craig. People get fired from their jobs for saying things much less bad than this on the Internet. But it’s OK because he’s in band, right guys?

According to Amanda’s friend, about 300 people showed up that night to vote. It started with Kevin telling Jonny that he’s done with him, and he’s done with his band, but now it’s up to his peers to decide his fate. It was, obviously, a landslide vote to have them removed from the tour. Jonny was incredulous, and during all of it, he still wasn’t owning up to what he did to tip over that first domino. He kept accusing everyone of judging him based on his past, when sadly, it sounds like a lot of the bands that voted him off were doing so because they were worried that the Warped Tour environment was reversing his recovery process, while also trying to reason with him that getting drunk every night was not something that he should be doing. The rest of his band got real defensive about that and kept saying things like, “he’s an adult, he can handle it” which is hilarious because Jonny Craig is one of the most emotionally-stunted people I have ever encountered. He is the true definition of Man Child, which is why deep down, I honestly feel really sorry for him.

Billboard interviewed Kevin Lyman about the decision to remove Slaves from Warped Tour; yay — more face/palm Warped Tour media spotlights.

My favorite part of this latest Jonny Blows It Again episode is that a bunch of bands started wearing “Bring Back Emarosa” shirts. <3

Meanwhile, Fronz from Attila was having a major feud with The Wonder Years and Buddy from Senses Fail, who went on to tweet a virtual manifest of the state of the scene and how shit needs to change and Kevin Lyman needs to quit giving stages to these immature brat-bands. And Coop from Hands Like Houses posted a picture of himself flipping off the YouTubers tent and saying that he wishes the kids at Warped Tour would stop paying so much attention to the people who have nothing beneficial to say (truth), which incited an Instagram riot with all the teenage girls who are obsessed with the Warped YouTubers.

I know shit like this happens every year, but it seemed especially bad this time around, resulting in Kevin Lyman to give another cringe-worthy interview in which he seemingly chose his words in haste, leaving them open to easy misinterpretation. (Warped Tour will never be a 21+ event, guys. That’s not what he meant. Kevin knows his Warped Tour bread-and-butter demographic is the teen girls!)

It’s depressing to see that most of the people defending Jonny Craig are GIRLS. The victim-shaming on Twitter alone is enough to make me want to cry for all womankind and scream at them to get off Twitter and go burn a fucking bra. And then I read comments about how bands have been doing shit like this forever and how come it was OK back then, it was brushed off as “Oh, that’s so rock n’ roll,” but now all of these bands suddenly are expected to be held accountable, and the scene is becoming so “pussified” and “sensitive.” How about, no—it wasn’t OK back then. But I think it was easier for bands to get away with bad behavior in past decades because their lives were more secretive and more protected. With social media, everything is out there. It’s easier for smarmy musicians to bait underage girls, and it’s also easier for them to get exposed for doing so. It’s better, and it’s worse.

This is why I’m relieved that Robert Smith of the Cure has barely any Internet presence at all. He still ensconced in beautiful mystery. And how rare!

The one silver-lining I took from all this drama is seeing how many bands I respect speak up about the state of Warped Tour, offering solutions, begging the ones who are giving the scene a bad name to hear them out, trying to resolve beef without violence, and just ultimately coming together in an effort to make this community stronger. Also? There are a lot of men out there in this scene who give a fuck about women’s rights and are willing to go to bat for us. Misogyny and rape culture is rampant at most music festivals—not just Warped—and in many music scenes, but it is refreshing to see that this is something that my scene is being vocal about and recognizing that shit needs to change. The discussions that have been going on all summer long over at Absolute Punk have been smart, intelligent, and a sign that there are people out there who are open to change and willing to fight to make this scene good again. Also? Asshole behavior and sexual misconduct will not be tolerated or brushed off as “it’s just rock n’ roll, bruh.”

It’s a lot to think about, and something that we’ve been talking about a lot in my house, Chooch included. As a music-lover, I don’t want to ever stop going to Warped Tour. But as a self-respecting woman? Things need to change, and soon.

There comes a point where it’s not actually just about the music anymore.

One of Henry’s co-workers quit last month and the trickle-down effect has made for a pretty bummer summer. Things came to a head on Sunday and Henry and I had a big fight (don’t worry, Chooch wasn’t here). I know it’s probably surprising considering how much of a bullheaded, bipolar Leo I am, but Henry and I don’t actually have many big fights. But we’re both stressed out and annoyed, and beyond ready to wave adios to Sucktown USA. So we were all YELL YELL YELL and DOOR SLAM and then I spent the afternoon alone in the cemetery. I honestly thought, “Is this it? Are we done?” And then it was “Good luck finding someone else to emasculate you on the Internet, you plain-dressed asshole. Because it felt like that, and over something so idiotic which ceased to even matter about 2 minutes into the goddamn argument!

Really, I want to find that guy who quit and punch him in the dick. Motherfucker.

Big huge Canadian sorry if this got too personal, but god forbid anyone think my life is perfectly curated performance art. Surprisingly, my dirty pantaloons swaying in the breeze is relevant to this story.

My main concern was not HOW WILL OUR SON SURVIVE THE BREAK-UP OF HIS PARENTS!? but more ARE WE STILL GOING TO SEE HOWARD JONES TONIGHT?!

Oh, yes we are. I had been looking forward to this all summer!

And it turns out, going to see Howard Jones was kind of just what we needed: it was practically a Date, because Chooch decided he would rather stay home with his grandma (what a loser). Henry even brought a blanket to sit on (ugh) since the show was outside in a park. (And free! This meant that Henry had less stress than he usually does when we go to concerts. Plus, he actually somewhat likes Howard Jones, so this was one of those rare times that Henry isn’t Frown Personified.)

Hartwood Acres is in one of the nicer areas of Pittsburgh, so there were definitely certain types of people converging upon the park that evening, with their folding sporting event chairs and fancy wicker picnic baskets full of stemless wine glasses and mortadella slices. Like who do they think they are? William and Kate?

Henry brought two bottles of water and two packs of nuts: one was almond and one was mixed. HE ATE ALL THE MIXED NUTS WITHOUT ME.

I was going to live blog, but this was as far as I got because I was still being a bitter betty in the beginning:
6:31: At Hartwood Acres for Howard Jones. Hate everyone here. And I mean everyone. Henry got us Italian ice & I’m PISSED because he got me lemon and mango for himself. I WOULD HAVE PREFERRED MANGO. What an asshole.

Henry’s laser pointer was excited to see you. And don’t panic — Henry and I traded Italian ice. He was doing anything possible to keep me happy at this point.

Ha, remember when we used to make pendants of my paintings? I still wear them. Memories.

I was so angry at the people next to us. They had it all and I wanted it. It was Jim’s birthday (Henry saw his name on the present that was sitting there, taunting me, for the first 45 minutes of the evening) and we deduced that Jim wasn’t Dad but Mom’s Boyfriend. They brought a cake for him, candles and all, and the cake looked really good. I just sat there and stared at them the whole time as they shoveled cake into their idiot mouths, no shame.

I will say that Jim got some shitty gifts though. Quite possibly one of the ugliest button-downs I’ve even seen and an “art canvas” with some lame, inspirational saying printed on it. Kind of shitty gifts for someone who is expected to put up with those bitch daughters of hers, I hissed in Henry’s ear and he just went along with it because at least I was bitching about someone else, finally. It was bonding, and therapeutic, for us to hate other people instead of each other for once.

People-watching was at a prime that evening, and it’s a good thing too because we had a lot of time to kill. My favorite parts were watching the adorable airedale-ish dog in front of us. I wanted to steal her. And also stink-eyeing any douchebag who even considered for a second propping up their douchebag folding chairs in front of me.

Bill Deasy of the Gathering Field (a local Pittsburgh band that has been really popular with the older crowd for as long as I can remember) opened and remember in my previous concert post when I blah-blah’d about how now that I’m older, I try to have more patience and respect for opening bands? WELL THAT ALL WENT OUT THE E-WINDOW. This guy just irritated me so bad because I was in a bad mood to begin with and his music was boring and he talked too much and his jokes were only funny to old people.

Everyone around me was eating it up, though. Even the non-yuppies! Probably because they were all buzzed off their hipster IPAs at that point, though. I refused to applaud, even when Bill explained that he was the reason Howard Jones was playing here that night, because they met at some song-writing thing in France in the 90s and became friends, and now Bill is also on some entertainment council for Allegheny County in addition to being in a boring band, but I don’t clap for braggers.

I only clapped when it was over, and that was an exaggerated, forced hand-smack with a matching scowl on my face, like a bitchy hat-and-mitten set.

(There was literally nothing wrong with Bill Deasy. I was just being a witch-bitch. Which is something I’ve never called myself before, but somehow my fingers typed it so naturally.)

Finally, as the sun was setting, Howard Jones came out and the night turned into a giant, open-aired dance party. I wanted to go up by the stage but Henry was being wishy-washy about it, so we stayed on our blanket and “relaxed.” Yeah right — do you know how hard it is for me to sit still on a blanket?!

Even on our dumb blanket, we had a really great, unobstructed view. It didn’t matter after he started singing though, because I was more than content being wrapped up in childhood memories and the pure, unadulterated essence of 80s synthpop. Howard Jones makes me feel so happy and fired up. I didn’t need to bring a growler of Arsenal cider—like the rich, nautical-attired older couple in front of us did—to feel drunk. All that beautiful synth did it for me.

A few songs in, the middle-aged lady with the airedale-ish dog packed up her summer-concert-in-the-park belongings and left.

“Maybe she thought she was going to see Howard Jones from Killswitch Engage,” I said to Henry, with a shrug. I imagine she was sorely disappointed, if that was the case.

I saw Howard for the first time last March in Cleveland, after being a fan since I was a little girl watching “New Song” on Friday Night Videos. I never thought I would be seeing him twice in the same year! And for free this time!? I hope the county paid Howard the big bucks, because he deserves it.

It was the perfect way to calm our nerves, a healing end to a weird, belligerent day. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Henry still complained about his legs being asleep from sitting on the blanket, to which I smugly retorted, “Well, you should have STOOD UP like I wanted to.” Still, we even held hands when we walked back to the car! And when I said, “Wasn’t that fucking amazing?” I waited  for Henry to mumble his signature “No.”

But this time he said, in a non-mumble, “Yes.”

Thank you, Howard Jones, for helping us reconnect.

Icarus the Owl just made a video for their new single and I’m so stoked on it!  My absolute dream is that they will tour with Artifex Pereo and Emarosa. I would cry through the whole thing.

Lately, I’ve been jamming so much shit from Blue Swan; Top Shelf; and Kurt Travis’s brand new label, Esque. I highly recommend perusing their catalogs, my friends! Snooping labels is how I find a ton of the music I listen to.

In other music news: Riot Fest is only a few weeks away and it’s pretty much all I can think about. And Carly Rae Jepsen’s new album came out today and in heaven. This is the best pop albums in YEARS if you ask me. I love her so much.

***

I work late shift today, so I have a few hours this morning to spend with Chooch and Judy. Judy is currently irritated because John Cena is on whatever Regis & Kathie Lee is called now. “I don’t see what’s so great about him,” she just spat from the living room. And Chooch is sitting behind me at the dining room table, playing Solitaire because god forbid I’m using the computer so he’s playing DARK AGES GAMES. Now Judy is yelling at him because he doesn’t remember what the first card was that he turned over? Is this what they do all day? Oh my god.

John Cena is on the couch now. WILL JUDY CHANGE HER OPINION? She just either half-chuckled at something he said or she’s choking on the horrid coffee I made this morning. (I think I used the wrong measuring spoon?)

“Stupid,” she just said with disgust.

I used to love watching Regis and Kathie with my grandma, but I always haaaaated Kathie Lee and her stupid stories about her dumb son Cody. I made a Frank Gifford Glenn the other day, but I didn’t like it so maybe today I’ll make a new one with Kathie and her big mouth in the background. Now that I think about it, my grandma is also the one who taught me how to play Solitaire so the parallels here are astounding.

Now Chooch and Judy are playing Life and screaming at each other about the rules.

I need another vacation. :(

Or longer weekends.

When the Spill Canvas announced that they were going to tour in honor of the 10th anniversary of their album One Fell Swoop, my heart swelled up like a beautiful cardiac balloon, and then popped in a matter of .002 seconds because ow, that album, just ow.

Honestly, I haven’t kept up very much with the Spill Canvas since their 2007 release (“To Live Without It” was my 2007 summer anthem). Hearing this tour announcement rejuvenated that old love for their music and I bought my ticket right away. Only one ticket because I knew Henry was definitely not feeling this one. (As if he ever “feels” any of them.)

But then, a few days before the show, my brother Corey texted me.

“Are you still going to the Spill Canvas show alone?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied with a sad face emoji.

“Well, not anymore because I just bought a ticket!”

I almost cried! I wouldn’t have minded going alone, but I definitely preferred having someone with me, and Corey and I haven’t seen a show together since The Cure in 2008! I became ridiculously giddy (what else is new) about it! I was also hoping that this would help dull some of the inevitable emotional pain that was bound to be exacerbated as soon as Nick Thomas began to sing.

Music makes it really hard not to live in the past.

Papa H drove Corey and me to the Altar Bar around 6pm on Sunday. I made him drop us off a little bit down the street though because I didn’t want people to see us and laugh.

Because that’s clearly what people would do.

When I was going to Pitt, Henry would sometimes drive me to class because parking was such a pain. I’d have him drop me off so far away, in no man’s land, that it practically negated being given a ride in the first place.

The line to get in was short and seemingly void of douchebags, so I was optimistic about the crowd. My compromise to Corey was that we could stand upstairs on the balcony, and honestly that’s probably where I would have ended up anyway had I gone alone because that’s the kind of mood I was that day. You know that mood. The “get the fuck away from me” mood? Just don’t touch me. That’s what happens when it’s 90 degrees and humid and you don’t have air-conditioning in your house, I guess.

I’ve only seen the Spill Canvas once before, at the 2007 Warped Tour in Cincinnati. I was this close that time:

So I didn’t mind being on the balcony this time around.

Since Papa H was picking us up, we both got some drinks and then grabbed a good spot along the balcony a few minutes before Bonfires started their set. As suspected, the crowd was definitely older. A couple in their mid-to-late 20s (this is old considering the types of shows I go to!) moved into the spots next to me, but they were plain, emotionless, and unmoving. In other words: they didn’t bother me. I was entertained by the girl’s constant need to Snapchat throughout the entire night though. Watching her take a picture and type “Bonfires,” I started chanting in my head, “Use the fire emoji. USE THE FIRE EMOJI. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO USE THE FIRE EMOJI. YES! SHE USED THE FIRE EMOJI!!”

Basic bitch.

Bonfires wasn’t bad once their sound situation was remedied. The first song sounded like a preschool music room disaster but then everything was good after that. I saw the singer when we were standing in line; he was wearing a Fuck Seaway shirt so I figured he was cool. He seemed super stoked to be on tour with the Spill Canvas and I know this because he kept saying, “THIS IS SICK. BEING ON TOUR WITH SPILL CANVAS IS SICK. YOU GUYS ARE SICK. I’M SICK. NO REALLY I’M GONNA BE SICK.” Real energetic vibe from those guys. I liked it.

I guess you could say I thought they were sick.

While they were playing, another couple squeezed in between me and the Snapping girl. I HATED THEM. The boyfriend was this big beefy fucker with gorilla arms and a wide wingspan. He took up so much room against the railing and his poor girlfriend was left standing sideways, two fingers touching the railing, trying to peer over his massive shoulder.

Somewhere around this time, Nick Thomas (the singer of TSC) favorited my tweet from earlier in the day, which said, “Seeing Spill Canvas tonight. Pour one out for 2005.” I showed it to Corey, while saying, “No big deal.” We talked for a little bit about our respective feelings for the band, how it reminds him of high school and for me, of course, it’s another Christina band. Why did she have to be my only friend who liked this shit?

! I wish I could associate all of this music with someone I still like.

“The Tide is probably my favorite song of theirs,” I said to Corey about the Spill Canvas.

“That’s not on One Fell Swoop though, is it?”

“No, thank god,” I laughed. “I don’t think I could handle hearing that song tonight!”

The next band was [something] Summer. A bunch of older dudes who weren’t listed on the official lineup that the Spill Canvas had posted, so who knows. I honestly just zoned out during their set because they did very little for me and by this point, the gorilla and his submissive Fay Wray had left, their empty space immediately filled by two super drunk blond girls.

And I mean SUPER DRUNK. The one closest to me was completely leaning against me and I was like, “Bitch, don’t be mistaking me for your support system.” So then I kept pushing back until they retreated to a couch behind us, and proceeded to spend the next 25 minutes taking urgent selfies, according to Corey.

I usually don’t have to deal with drunk idiots at my normal shows, so my patience was zapped by the time the third band, Milly, started. They’re a local Pittsburgh band and at first I thought it was going to be terrible, but I ended up liking them. And I wasn’t just pretending to because they had family members standing behind us, I swear.

Everyone always says that becoming a parent will change you, and even though I still feel the same in most regards, the one thing I rarely do anymore is make fun of the little, opening bands. I used to be so ruthless and cruel if I disliked an opening band when I was younger, but now I feel so guilty if I start to have snarky thoughts, because those are someone’s kids up there, and what if it was Chooch? (I mean, not like he would ever be in a shitty band, but you know.)

At some point, another couple squeezed in next to me and at first I thought it was going to be OK, but then I started to pick up on weirdness between them and I realized that they were fighting and making up almost the entire time. It was really uncomfortable, and at one point it got so public that I turned to Corey and yelled, “MAYBE THEY WILL LEAVE.” And I don’t give a fuck if they heard me, either.

The guy was yelling, “I AM HERE FOR YOU. I AM DOING ALL OF THIS FOR YOU!” and she just kept on mouthing off and telling him not to touch her and it turned out that particular fight was because she had to go to the bathroom and was afraid to lose her spot!?

The more I paid attention to them, the more I was like, “Oh wow, so this is what it’s like to stand next to me and Henry.” Especially when he touched her back and then sarcastically yelled, “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch your back!” followed by an eye roll. It was amazing. Again, I paid more attention to them to whatever the fourth (FOURTH!?) band was.

Way too many bands on this bill. I was not happy about it at all.

Taking Back Sunday came on over the sound system after the fourth band left the stage, prompting a giant singalong.

It was beautiful.

But finally, at 9:45, the Spill Canvas took the stage and from the moment Nick sang, “In one fell swoop it became clear to me / that I despise you entirely” I was entranced.  Nothing around me bothered me anymore. They played the entire album and talk about being taken back….my Lord. Dormant feelings were stirred, forgotten memories were dusted off and knocked back into the forefront of my mind—-it was surreal, like an out of body experience, like floating against the ceiling of the Altar Bar and watching it all from another time.

I know, this reads like every fucking show I go to. I can’t help it! I’m just that fragile and sensitive.

I noticed that my Instagram and Twitter feed was abundant with the broken heart emojis that night. I’m so original.

At the beginning of “Natalie Marie and 1cc,” someone started pounding on my back. I went into fight mode because I thought some drunk asshole was trying to push me out of the way. I spun around, ready to rip out some hair, only to find Corey with a sugar-high face, squealing, “I LOVE THIS SONG!!!!!” It was hilarious and also adorable. I’m so glad he came with me! The Spill Canvas means a lot to both us for our own separate reasons and that made the evening more meaningful. Feelings. Meaningful feelings. All of the emotions. Emo emo emo.

And you know, not just a night to get drunk at a show and act like a Yinzer d-bag. Seriously, a fight started to happen at one point in the crowd, but luckily it quickly petered out. Who the fuck fights at a Spill Canvas show? Get a fucking grip, Pittsburgh.

It just felt like such a gift to get to hear that entire album performed, some of the songs they have never played live before. When they came back for the encore, they had already played the entire One Fell Swoop album, so they ended the show with a full-band performance of The Tide.

THE TIDE.

I was standing next to a curtain and it was all I could do not to bury my face into it and cry.

Heaven’s not a place that you go when you die, it’s that moment in life when you actually feel alive.

Chills.

Here’s the full song if anyone cares to have their heart eviscerated:

Papa H was waiting for us down the street when the show ended a little after 11:00; we excitedly gave him a recap of the show during the drive home. Henry was just like, “What about my uninterested expression makes you think I care?!”

And then I told him they played The Tide and he was kind of like, “Hnnnnnnngggg. Then I’m really glad I wasn’t there.” I tortured him with that song for a very long time.

These band reunions/10-year-anniversary album tours are killing me. I’m going to the Armor For Sleep “What To Do When You’re Dead” tour next month in Philly (with Terri!); and then Jason Gleason is rejoining Further Seems Forever for the Self Help show in March, which has made people speculate that something more may be coming from them; plus Circa Survive touring for Juturna—my pathetic little emo heart just can’t take all the nostalgia.

**********

The next day, Corey texted me and said, “Ugh, I want to relive last night!”

Same.

Alternately titled: I need a hobby. 

Wow. Another dumb photo series birthed from my perpetual boredom. I have so much Cure memorabilia laying around the house that I sometimes joke it’s like Robert is my guardian angel—HE IS ALWAYS WATCHING ME. 

I c u, Robert. 
    
This painting was seriously some kid’s art project and then she sold it on eBay afterward. I was at King’s Island on the last day of the auction and wrote a reminder ON MY WRIST to make sure that I checked eBay that night, because this was in 2005 and I didn’t have a cellphone, and even if I did, it probably would have been some  prehistoric flip phone. AND YOU CANT CHECK EBAY ON THOSE. 

By now, you’ve probably guessed the ending: I WON THE PAINTING.  

 Here’s a Robert Smith doll that I begged my mom to buy me back in 1999 or 2000 even though it barely resembles him, but the eBay listing said RARE, you guys. (I was way too into eBay back then.)   

I can’t remember where I got this Cure print. Lol, j/k. eBay. 

 My friend Anastacia just sent me this Cure comic book, which I have always wanted but never got around to adding to the collection, so THANK YOU Anastacia for contributing to my shrine!

I have so many posters and prints rolled up in tubes because I never got around to framing them. Someday….

It seems that people associate Warped Tour with metalcore these days, and I get that it definitely caters to that part of the scene, but Warped’s pop-punk, indie, and alternative rock game is just as strong. Contrary to popular belief, Warped Tour isn’t just one giant breakdown. I was really stoked when Hands Like Houses were announced, because they’re definitely one of my favorites. Henry is pretty whatever about them though; he thinks Trenton looks like he’d be a dick, but I have never heard of him having a reputation nor have I ever tried to meet him, so I’m not sure where this judgment stems from. (He also feels the same way about Austin Carlile from Of Mice & Men and that man seems so genuine to me!)

I’m obsessed withi their guitarist, Alexander Pearson, because he reminds me of a young Tim Curry. So I just call him “The Tim Curry Guy” and Henry just shakes his head because he doesn’t get it. BUT YOU GUYS, LOOK! TIM CURRY GUY! I was so giddy watching him set up!

TIM CURRY GUY!!

I would like to see more bands from the Blue Swan scene on Warped Tour, though. Eidola, Stolas, Hail the Sun, Icarus the Owl, Adventurer, and also Artifex Pereo and A Lot Like Birds who aren’t on Blue Swan but should be. I love the sub-scene that those guys have been cultivating and wish there was more of that type of post-hardcore sound on Warped Tour.

I got to hear “Lion Skin” and then it was time to sadly say goodbye to HLH and run back to the Unicorn Stage for PVRIS! They started out on one of the smaller stages, and wound up getting bumped up to the main stage once Kevin Lyman saw the crowds they were drawing. I’m so proud of these guys! It’s always exciting to see such a young band bust their asses and be rewarded for it. It’s also nice when a female-fronted band comes onto the stage and doesn’t try to sound like Paramore. Sorry, but I had to say it!

This was my second time seeing them, and I was pissed that it had to be under that damn amphitheater. There was no way I was going to try to push my way into the pit, not with Chooch there. And even standing where the seats start on the floor is dangerous. I remember a few Warped Tours again, Pierce the Veil was playing on one of the stages under there and Henry and I were standing up in one of the first rows of seats, and I seriously thought we were going to get crushed because people still try to mosh and crowd surf even with the seats in the way and it’s just bad news all around for less-resilient adults. So Chooch and I had to find seats back where it was safer, and it was fine I guess. I don’t know where Henry was. We lost him again because we were running too fast.

I actually cried several times during PVRIS’s set. Lynn Gunn’s voice just kills me. Terri sent me an article yesterday about how music can give people “skin orgasms” and that’s definitely what was happening to me under the First Niagara pavilion. PVRIS is going to be huge.

And the best part is that when Chooch met Lynn later on that day, she was so sweet and had no rock star ego. It was refreshing. She also got excited when she saw that Chooch was wearing the Emarosa “For Fox Sake” shirt and told us that she designed it, which makes her infinitely more awesome in my eyes. Chooch almost didn’t get to meet her at all. I misheard the time she was going to be at her tent, so we casually walked over after Pierce the Veil’s set later that day and there were only about 10 people in line.

“Yeah, realllly long line,” Chooch said sarcastically, because I told him that there were probably going to be hoards of people trying to meet her. Well, it turns out the line was so short because it was cut off a long time ago, and the end of the line was like THE END of the line. But the guy in charge of it was like, “I’m not supposed to let anyone else in line, but….you’re a kid so go head.” Relish this time in your life, Chooch. You’re still a novelty to the scene but pretty soon, you’ll just be one of the masses.

UNLESS YOU’RE IN A BAND.

I think Chooch already posted this in his guest post, but oh well:

He was like STARSTRUCK after this. He kept murmuring, “I can’t believe I just met Lynn Gunn….”

I had no idea he liked PVRIS this much! Warped Tour is so much more fun now that this kid goes with me. I know this is like the 6976th time I’ve stated that, but I really mean it. I never thought it was possible, but it means even more to me now.

Some of my favorite Warped Tour moments over the last 7 years involve Pierce the Veil. They’re one of those quintessential scene bands and always put on a great show at Warped Tour. They’re so much bigger now than they were the first time I saw them there in 2008 though! So even though they were playing under the pavilion on the main stage and we had to stand back really far, it was still exciting for me. (And Henry, too. Admit it, Henry.)

We ended the day with Set It Off, and Chooch the hustler managed to get $10 from Henry in order to chase down the merch guy who was walking around selling the new SIO acoustic ep, which was only $5 and Chooch slyly pocketed the change.

So while Henry was all annoyed about getting ripped off, I was bloated with pride over the fact that my kid is doing his small part in supporting bands by caring enough to buy their CDs when he knows that he could just YouTube it or play it on Spotify.

Henry doesn’t like Set It Off, so this made it even better.

As usual, I was dragging my feet toward the exit. I hate saying goodbye to Warped Tour every year and with everything that’s been going on with it this summer, I worry about its future. How much longer will it go on? I hate thinking about that. And to be honest, I’ve been dragging out these posts because I don’t want it to end. :( I have to find a way to get a job in the music industry or suddenly develop  enough talent to start a band or marry the owner of Rise Records, because this is fucking ridiculous.

On the way out, we saw a magical rainbow. Perfection.

Normal people might consider relaxing at a spa, or on a wine tour in Napa, or laying on the beach in Hilton Head, and I get it; but for me, Warped Tour is my place of Zen. It’s where I recharge and heal and feel whole again. I can’t imagine ever losing this feeling.

Warped Tour has been under some heavy scrutiny this summer, lots of controversy and drama with some of the bands exacerbated by social media. I’m not sure what state that’s going to leave the tour in by the end of the summer, but right now I want to focus on the most important aspect of Warped Tour: the music. This summer’s lineup was stacked. I don’t give a fuck what all those aging punks on music forums have to say about this topic: the mix of bands was diverse. The unfortunate downside is that there are going to be bands I have to miss in favor of other bands, and that is what heart-break feels like, my friends. As soon as the gates opened, Chooch and I sprinted to the Vans inflatable while Henry stood in line to buy a paper schedule. When we met back up, he handed me the schedule and said, “I don’t think you’re going to have a problem with scheduling conflicts this year!”

I bore holes through him with my furious eyes and spat, “Really? Then you don’t know me at all!” Because the inflatable had already broken my stupid heart. I knew I was going to have to forfeit ’68 (I have been dying to see them again ever since last year’s Chiodos tour) in favor of Never Shout Never for Chooch, and there could be no Beartooth, August Burns Red, or Moose Blood because I was 100% unwilling to miss even one second of Emarosa’s set. And don’t even get me started about how bummed I am that I missed Matchbook Romance. I really need to plan on going two Warped Tours next year. I always say that though. #musicfestivalproblems

Bands we managed to catch, whole sets and partial:

• Palisades
• Koo Koo Kangaroo
• Our Last Night
• We Came As Romans
• New Year’s Day
• Man Overboard
• Never Shout Never
• Night Riots
• Transit
• Hands Like Houses
• Silverstein
• PVRIS
• Emarosa
• Pierce the Veil
• Set It Off

Bands I am not sad about missing out on at all:

• Black Veil Brides
• Attila <—fuck them, seriously

Even weeks later, as I’m looking at this schedule, my heart feels so heavy looking at all the amazing bands I couldn’t squeeze in without cloning myself. Bands like Citizen, Pup, The Wonder Years (I’ve seen them several times, but still), Lee Corey Oswald, Alvarez Kings…ugh. Heartbreak.

We started the day off with Palisades, which was actually Henry’s idea. We saw them once with Dance Gavin Dance and I guess he must have secretly liked them enough to want them to be his Warped Tour breakfast. I thought Chooch would like them because they’re pretty fun and energetic, but he just shrugged and said, “I don’t know. They’re too loud.” I really only like one of their songs, which they played so I felt fulfilled.

Next up we had to run to the Beatport stage to see Koo Koo Kanga Roo. This is not something I ever would have given a second thought, or even half of a first thought, but when we were waiting in line before gates opened, one of the singers was walking by carrying a stick with a huge picture of his head on it, trying to spread the word about the band. (I’m thankful for these distractions every year. It makes waiting in line way less excruciating.) He targeted Chooch right away and they had an adorable conversation.

“You must be in a band,” he said to Chooch, and in my head, I was screaming, “I WISH! HOPEFULLY SOMEDAY! I MEAN, I’M NOT GOING TO FORCE HIM OR ANYTHING BUT I PROBABLY WON’T TALK TO HIM MUCH IF HE’S NOT!” Then he asked Chooch what bands he was excited to see, and Chooch thoughtfully said, “All of them.”

“That’s a lot of bands!” said whichever one of the Koos this was.

And then out of nowhere, Chooch said he was most excited to see PVRIS, which kind of surprised me because while I knew he liked them, he hadn’t really mentioned that to me before and WE ARE SUPPOSED TO TELL EACH OTHER EVERYTHING ABOUT OUR FEELINGS FOR MUSIC.

The group of kids in front of us were listening to this and when he said “PVRIS,” they expressed their approval at his taste in music and I was like, “Well, he only likes them because I do, so….”

God I hate myself.

The Koo Koo Kanga Roo guy went on to totally sell on us on his set. “You gotta come by! It’s a dance party! We sing songs about fanny packs and cats….” Welp, someone said the magic word.

Their merch guy was dancing like a crazy person to Walk the Moon’s “Shut Up and Dance” which entertained us while waiting for Koo Koo Kanga Roo, who eventually come out wearing gold fanny packs.

And a hilarious dance party ensued.

This is why I love Warped Tour! Where else could you sing songs about everybody pooping with two crazy guys who play shows at elementary schools and then have your face melted off by Beartooth? But no, there’s no diversity. You’re right, jaded music forum posters.

Their set was fun and hilarious. I’m so glad we went!

Afterward, we went to their merch tent so Chooch could get a CD. Henry Warbucks was like, “Buy them all.” Chooch and I exchanged a “wtf got into HIM look?!” because Henry hates spending money at Warped Tour so now I’m convinced he has a side job as a gigolo. (Oh come on! Everyone has a type. I bet there’s tons of octogenarians out there who want a surly-faced man in a striped shirt, naming Faygo flavors in a husky voice.)

He also got a Koo Koo Kanga Roo comic book and stickers that smell like gross things. Not a bad way to start the day.

“You made it!” the moustacioed-Koo exclaimed happily when he saw Chooch.  “Do you know what time PVRIS plays?”

“3:50,” Chooch answered, and I had no idea that he had even checked the schedule for that. I guess he likes them more than I thought.

From here, we headed to the amphitheater, where the two main stages were held since there were storms in the forecast. I hate, hate, hate the stages under the amphitheater, and it was even worse this year since it was the main stages, but I understood that it was something that had to happen. It’s just so hard to enjoy any of the bands when they’re playing those stages, because it’s hard to get close. We ended up sitting and it always feels weird to me to be sitting at Warped Tour. I felt like a true Old Person. While we were under there, the first of many waves of heavy rain started, which drove so many people under the amphitheater, it made me wonder if anyone was left at the other stages. I felt bad for all of those bands who were playing at that time.

Oh, also, we purposely lost Henry during this time, and it made Chooch and I ridiculously giddy. We could see his idiot cabbage-head bobbing up and down in the crowd, searching desperately for us. Oh, how we laughed.

Our Last Night was still playing on the left side of the stage, so Chooch and I listened to them while waiting for We Came As Romans. I saw OLN last year with Chiodos in Cleveland and my impression was “meh.” But I really liked them this time around and I’m glad I was forced to give them a second chance. Then WCAR came on and I was just like, “………..” I don’t dislike them or anything, but they don’t really make me feel any type of way. Chooch likes them a lot though and that’s all that matters. He wrote about seeing them here.

We were going to walk around after their set ended, but then it started storming again, so we fetched Henry and found seats closer to the other side of the stage, where New Year’s Day was playing. I feel like they’re at Warped Tour every year.

“Wait, their singer is a girl!?” Chooch asked in disbelief. He kept making fun of them, and I was like, “Dude, they’re really not that bad!” and he gave me this horrified look and said, “I can’t believe you just said that!” I found out later that the whole time they were playing, he thought it was Black Veil Brides, and we have a huge mutual dislike for that band, so I guess he thought he was losing me as an ally or something.

We made Henry feed us around this time. Henry’s favorite thing! Spending money while praying that whatever food he’s ordering will satisfy us and quell the bipolar-demons within for a few hours more.

Henry trying to block out Transit playing behind him. He had to call work around this time, so he left us at the Journeys stage while we waited for Hands Like Houses, and walked around trying to find a halfway-quiet area to make his call. He was so excited when he came back because while he was on the phone, some guy moved him out of the way, and when Henry turned around, he realized it was a security guard escorting Vic and Jaime from Pierce the Veil through the crowd. Henry, the ultimate scene dad.  You guys know he secretly enjoys this shit. He can name at least one person in most band that I like, even some of the ones I don’t like. I really think he likes going to Warped Tour!

This concludes the first half of the day.

Thursday, July 16 found Henry doing three things that he hates: going out of town on a work night, eating at a vegan restaurant, and going to a show. But he did all of these things because he’s a goddamn prince and also, I have broken him.

I mean, Cleveland (Lakewood, if you want to get technical) isn’t too far of a haul, but when a show ends around 10:30-11:00 and then you have to drive 2.5 hours home only to wake up in two hours and go to work, well….I guess I can see Henry’s (corned) beef (and cabbage) with these out-of-town work night shows. But this one was special, and you know this if you have already subjected yourself to the 1000s of words I finger-vomited on here last week.

I left work early that day and by 3:00ish, we were on our way to Ohio, after angering Chooch when he found out who we were going to see.

“And you’re not taking me!?” he cried. But he was fine with it once he learned that it was in Cleveland because he hates being in the car for more than 15 minutes.

The drive was pretty uneventful. I listened to a Spotify playlist that my friend Terri had recently made and it was perfect. Henry talked about

Normally when we go to Cleveland, we eat at Melt, but I was already feeling nauseous. Nerves, you know? So I found a vegan restaurant on dreaded Yelp (I honestly will never stop hating that site;  it angers me so much) that was within a few miles of Mahall’s. Henry rolled his eyes as soon as I told him it was called Earth Bistro but at least my mortal enemy Yelp reviewer has never eaten there. Henry had taken a wrong turn, as usual, and deposited us smack in the middle of downtown Cleveland rush hour, so he was too busy screaming “Shut the fuck up” to the GPS, but definitely not to me because he knows better.

“They supposedly have really good cactus slaw,” I noted, trying to get Henry stoked on meals minus meat. Henry is very simple when it comes to restaurant pleasures, and a good cup of ‘slaw usually does the trick. (He especially loves it when I swipe forkfuls of his ‘slaw from across the table. “Order your own next time!” he growls and I just laugh because can you imagine Henry ever being intimidating?)

We were the only ones at Earth Bistro, which is never really a good sign, but I was relieved because my pre-show anxiety was going through the roof and I didn’t feel like sharing the air with a restaurant full of hipsters I’d be convinced were staring at me.  This anxiety happens every time we’re about to see a band I REALLLLLY LOVE and I know that must seem like every band in the world sometimes, but really there are only three bands currently that get me sick (in good ways). Emarosa has always done that to me.

Anyway, this joint’s decor was like walking into the 1980s, like you could easily imagine Robert Palmer and his Addicted To Love girls occupying a back booth, drinking Tab. I wished our waitress was wearing a gold lamé dress with shoulder pads, but she was clothed in a normal, modern outfit. Like, a long black skirt or something, I can’t remember. Who cares. It’s been A Week and I have no idea what sense I’m even making anymore.

The waitress, who reminded me of our friend Jessi from Michigan, twisted our arms into ordering an appetizer, and then continued to twist until we settled on her suggestion of their homemade guacamole. “It’s even been featured on TV a few times,” she bragged with a slight midwestern accent.

I was trying to pretend that this child-free evening was a Real Life date, but Henry was too busy wasting his life scrolling through his Facebook feed. When you only have like 70 Facebook friends, how often do you really need to check it?!

:(

I guess I’m just too boring for him.

The guacamole actually was pretty good. It came with FRIED PLANTAIN CHIPS and I love FRIED PLANTAIN CHIPS! They also put fresh pineapple in with the guac, which tasted great but god forbid the avocado sex jam purists find out and start a new heated Internet debate. Unfortunately, it was super filling and I didn’t even consider the fact that both Henry and I ordered dinners that came with smaller portions of the guac, so what a goddamn waste.

I order vegetable tacos and they were no bueno. Totally bland and similar to something Henry would have made me at home. I was really bummed out about it, and Henry derived such joy from my order remorse.

“It’s weird that they don’t use seitan in anything,” Henry mused, because even though Henry loves to rip animal flesh right off the bone, he actually enjoys some seitan every now and then. I thought it was weird too. I also thought it was weird that it was a vegan/vegetarian restaurant but they had an entire meat-side of the menu.

AND THEY DON’T HAVE CACTUS SLAW ANYMORE!

“People either loved it or hated it,” the waitress said apologetically. “We were wasting so much of it, so the owner finally just took it off the menu.”

“GOOD ONE, ERIN,” Henry sneered after the waitress left the room. He loves it when my restaurant choices turn out poorly.

It doesn’t matter though, because we split a piece of raw cheesecake and it completely made up for the bland, boring cactus slaw-less dinner. I wish that I had just skipped dinner altogether so that I could have ordered two desserts, because that is apparently Earth Bistro’s secret weapon. GOOD LORD, THAT CHEESECAKE!

For a brief second I considered going on a raw diet, but then Henry said I would have to find someone else to make my food then, because he wasn’t trying to get involved in that shit. And then I panicked because does Cream of Wheat fall into a raw diet? THAT IS WHAT I EAT FOR LUNCH EVERY DAY! (Mostly because that’s all I can manage to make for myself without feeling exhausted or confused.)

DATE SELFIE!

After I was finished interrogating the waitress about how they made the raw cheesecake, we left for Mahall’s, which is on its way to becoming one of my favorite venues. The first time we went there was last July to see Artifex Pereo and it was just a really chill vibe. It’s also a bowling alley. This particular show was in the Locker Room, which turns out is in the basement of Mahall’s. Henry thought this was hilarious since I was just at a show in a literal, actual, real life basement less than a week before this.

As soon as we descended the dark steps and I saw just how small this room was, I knew it was going to be a magical night. Emarosa, unplugged, on the floor.

And then I felt sicker when it occurred to me how close I was going to be to them.

The first band was I Fight Fail, and I ended up really liking them a lot. Several people standing behind me were heckling them and basically shouting over the music to each other the whole time, and it was really pissing me off. Why is it so hard for people to shut their idiot faces when bands are playing?  Anyway, the singer of I Fight Fail handed out CD-R copies of their album after their set.

The second band was The Whiskey Hollow, the side project of two members of Cleveland’s Envoi. They weren’t originally listed and I guess were added last minute, because from what I’m beginning to understand, they seem to worm their way onto the bill a lot, since they apparently have a pretty big local following. When we went to see Artifex Pereo last year, Envoi managed to usurp the headlining spot and it seemed like most of the people there were there for them, which was annoying because it had a super clique-ish vibe.

That being said, I thought  Whiskey Hollow was decent, but the singer annoys me on a personal level and I just wanted to scream, “Please. Stop talking.” But a bunch of their groupie friends were there and I didn’t want to get beaten up. Also, she sang “Me and Bobby McGee” and I cannot stress how much I dislike that song and Janis Joplin—-YES, I WENT THERE. It was actually painful to my ears.

By this point, the tallest man in the room was standing in front of me, so I said fuck it and squeezed in between him and some broad who was there by herself. It was a good spot, but I kept trying to get Henry to stand in front of me so I could hide behind him when Emarosa came out, but he was like, “WHAT IF BRADLEY SHOVES THE MIC IN MY FACE AND I DON’T KNOW THE WORDS OMG SING-ALONG FOUL!”

We still had to get through Little Envy though. The singer made a big production of lighting incense and was just adorably awkward and shy. I’ll admit that my initial reaction was one of, “Whaaaaat am I watching right now?” but they grew on me. The singer reminded me of a young Christofer Drew trying to sing like Vic Fuentes.

This really spoke to 2005 Erin.

And then Emarosa. Heart-eyes for days. I know I already wrote about the Emarosa portion of the night, but someone posted a video from one of the shows after ours, and it’s too good not to share. I never thought I would be OK with someone else singing the old Jonny Craig songs, but Bradley totally owns this.

I’m going to go ahead and say that this one of the best nights I have had with Henry in quite awhile. Once he was done berating the GPS and yelling at me for taking pictures of him and being annoyed that this was a work night and sweating his balls off in the basement of a bowling alley and fantasizing about eating elk with Ted Nugent, he actually admitted that he had a decent time and that EMAROSA IS HIS FAVORITE BAND.

When I was younger, my friend Shawn and I used to go to shows all the time and we loved meeting the bands afterward. It never seemed like a big deal either, just hanging out after the show, waiting for a chance to take a picture and tell them what a great performance it was. One of my favorite memories is sitting around in a small circle in the parking lot of a venue of Hershey, with Scooter Ward from Cold. Totally casual, and he even passed around Starbursts (I still have mine; it’s orange and deformed and lives in my freezer). Sure, I was freaking out internally because Cold was my JAM back then, but it was always such a positive experience seeing and speaking with him. He was (and still is) a stand-up guy. And we met Tegan and Sara before they became famous and they were adorable and sweet and it was just such a chill moment.

And there was this one night when Shawn and I hung out backstage with Finger Eleven after their show at Nick’s Fat City in 2000 (don’t judge! I used to love them in another life, haha). Even Dave Navarro was super chill, and then obviously there was the time I met The Cure fifteen years that was so beautiful I still have not been able to bring myself to put it into words.

But then I met Jonny Craig in 2008 and it was awful and humiliating and I haven’t even looked at the photo that was taken of us, not once. It was definitely a “I drove 4 hours for this?!” moment.

It kind of just killed it for me. I never really bothered trying to meet any bands again after that (except for Jonny one more time in 2009 which was stupid on my part because it was even worse; sorry I’m not a skanky tattooed scene waif offering you blowjobs and heroin, asshole; God forbid I just want to tell you that I love your music). But now Chooch is getting into music and he has that joy and excitement of meeting bands that I once had, so I’m reliving it vicariously through him. Seeing the stars in his eyes after he met Lynn Gunn of PVRIS was just utterly adorable.

And Chooch’s experience meeting Bradley Walden of Emarosa was a positive one and we were both really excited about it. I know that it seems like it goes without saying that bands would just automatically be nice to kids, but you’d be surprised. Or not.

Even though their set at Warped Tour was already on its way to being the highlight of the day for me, Chooch meeting Bradley afterward really drove it home.

Last Wednesday, I finally made myself sit down and write about seeing Emarosa that day at Warped Tour. I had been craving them ever since they play Riot Fest last year, and was stoked that it was finally happening again. I wrote that blog post on my break at work that day; on the way home, I checked my stats as I do occasionally and noticed that they had skyrocketed. Panic set in because usually it’s no bueno when this happens, like when all of the field trip posts were viewed multiple times and it turned out it was because some mom from Chooch’s old school found it and passed them around to all of the other moms and then I was in a real life “Lucy, you have some ‘splainin’ to do!” moment.

Turns out, Bradley found my blog post via twitter, which I never intended. He retweeted it and also said this:

I mean, it’s hard not to excited about things like this, even though social media makes it really easy for bands and other celebrities to throw their fans a bone in the form of Instagram likes and Twitter retweets, so I was trying to be cool about it but then I was like AW FUCK IT and posted it on Facebook, because it was a really big deal to me! And I made some new friends on Twitter because of it too, smart people who agree that Emarosa is better than ever.

This was kind of weird timing, because Henry and I had tickets to see Emarosa perform a small, intimate, acoustic set at Mahall’s in Cleveland. I was a little bit embarrassed, because you know how gushy I get in my writing, and Christ, I wrote that thing on my lunch break at work, without proof-reading of course, because I’m so “professional,” so I felt a little foolish. Does that make sense? There’s such a fine line between sincere fan and psycho stalker who thinks she has a future being a band wife.

I promise you I’m not the latter even at times it may seem that way!

When Emarosa announced this quick, impromptu tour two weeks ago, I bought two tickets for the Mahall’s show immediately, and then woke Henry to tell him. Then he found out it was on a work night and I got grief from him about it every day up until the moment we were standing in the basement of Mahall’s, with Emarosa setting up less than a foot away from us.

(Literally, less than a foot. The girl next to me kept asking them if we were in the way and they said we were fine, but I definitely felt in the way, which is a normal feeling for me so it was basically just like any other day. Also, I wanted to scream I FUCKING LOOOOOOVE YOU!!!!! but instead I just buried my head in Henry’s chest.)

I felt sick, literally sick-to-my-stomach, like a chud of over-pickled cabbage was sloshing around in it, all day about seeing them because they just slay me right through the heart.

But then they started playing, and my nerves started to stop snapping and sizzling; it was just such a relaxed, campfire vibe, and everyone was so into it.

The whole band seemed to be in such good spirits, and there was a lot of joking and camaraderie. EVEN HENRY WAS SMILING.

Especially when Bradley had everyone sit down. That was Henry’s favorite part. Until he apparently lost feeling in his legs.  (Such an attention whore.)

The only light in that small basement room came from one red bulb, which made taking pictures and videos futile, even with no one standing in front of me. I didn’t want to be That Person who used a flash, so I eventually just hit record and aimed my phone at the floor, because who needs visual when the music is so beautiful on its own.

“You’re better than Jonny Craig!” some guy yelled from the middle of the crowd. Bradley smiled and said, “I know” and everyone cheered. I know it seems petty, but if you knew what it’s been like for the last 8 years, being let down by that piece of shit when you’re such a fan of his music, you would take sides too. Emarosa won all of the smart, grown-up fans in their divorce with Jonny.

They played some older songs too, “We Are Life” and “Heads or Tails…” and I swear to you, Bradley sings them better than Jonny ever did, without even trying.

After the show, I kind of just wanted to run out of there. Henry kept saying, “Whatever you want to do,” which wasn’t helping because I really wanted him to just, “You are going to go over there and say hello to Bradley or I will never go to another show with you. Ever. Again.”

The girl who was standing to me during the show was getting her CD signed by him, and no one else really seemed to be crowding him at the moment, so I sucked it up and edged a little closer. I didn’t see this happen, but according to Henry, after Bradley signed the girl’s CD, he began to walk toward me, but then she started saying something to him, so he stopped. Once she walked away, I can’t even believe this happened and it still feels like a dream, but he walked over and hugged me.

HUGGED ME. (Henry said that the girl who was talking to him before me had a WTF look on her face, lol.)

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

I was stunned.

“……do you know who I am?” I questioned, and then immediately hoped it didn’t come out sounding arrogant.

Bradley gave me a weird look and said yes.

HE KNEW WHO I WAS.

He told me that he read my whole blog post and it meant so much, he loved it.

I said, “I really wanted to talk to you last week at Warped Tour, but I get so nervous. I use my kid as my mouthpiece,” I laughed, and Bradley said I shouldn’t be nervous, and that he thought Chooch was so cool and he made his day.

I told him that he really wanted to come with us, and Bradley said he wished we would have brought him and now Chooch basically wants to kill me, haha. Then he asked me how long of a drive we had from Pittsburgh, so that was Henry’s chance to contribute to the conversation.

But I finally got to thank him to his face for breathing life back into Emarosa and I’m crying now as I’m typing this, but I told him how much that band means to me, and it’s just so wonderful getting to have positive experiences seeing them now and not wondering if their singer is going to be fucked up, slurring his words or flat out forgetting the lyrics, and trying to fight people from the stage.

And then he hugged me again.

To have someone I admire so much actually read something that I wrote, like a REAL something, a not just a tweet….it’s validating. I’ve been blogging since 2001, and writing in general since second grade (I used to write stories on the backs of my dittos, remember when we had dittos?!).  It’s also overwhelming and mind-blowing. This whole experience has helped heal me from past traumas of being treated poorly by band members that I once admired. It’s restored my faith in the scene and has only made me want to try even harder to get everyone I know to PLEASE FUCKING LISTEN TO THIS BAND. I love them so much that I bought an extra Versus album just so I could give it away on my blog last winter in hopes of gaining them another fan. And it worked! And not only did they gain a fan, but I gained a friend. Emarosa is awesome like that.

“You still haven’t met the rest of the band,” Henry said as we walked out of Mahall’s.

“I’m not ready for that yet!” I laughed.

Seriously, I wasn’t trying to cry that night. The way it ended was perfect, and I didn’t want to push my luck. 

Then I gave Henry reprieve from my need to dissect every single second of the night by texting and Facebook messaging my friends a CAPSLOCK summation of the evening, and they all responded to me with the proper amount of excitement and exclamation marks, GOD LOVE THEM.

“Wasn’t it worth it?” I asked Henry, shaking his arm as he tried to navigate his way out of Lakewood, Ohio. “Aren’t you so glad we came?!”

And you know what? He said yes.

It’s been a week and I’m still in lala land. I’m currently on the way home from seeing an acoustic Emarosa show at Mahall’s and trying not to cry because it was everything I could have asked for. Because Henry needs a break from my hyper blathering, I figured I’d do some car-blogging before I get even more behind. 

My friend Amelia likes to ask questions on Facebook to spark conversation, and the other day she asked “What is you favorite sound?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. 

Music festivals. 

Specifically, Warped Tour. There is just something so beautiful, familiar, comforting about the cacophony of competing music in a parking lot of stages. It’s like an apocalyptic carnival that I can’t stop buying tickets for. 

The weather wasn’t very favorable but what can you do. This definitely wasn’t nearly as bad at the first day of Riot Fest last year, but made for some soggy TOMS. 

 This was Chooch’s third Warped Tour and he is basically a seasoned pro at this point. He s that schedule and scrutinizes the fuck out of it and knows the location of all of the stages before I do which is irritating because I hate when the student becomes the master. 

Grrrr.

Rain in b&w because I’m fancy sometimes.  

Waiting for Set It Off, much to Henry’s chagrin. Chooch changed into his newly-acquired Emarosa tank which is cut way more provocatively than anything he’d typically wear, as evidenced by his tanlines. 

Those shoes were red when we left the house. I think Chooch is telling Henry that he owes him money. He doesn’t forget about being owed money. WHO DOES. 

Merchaholic. 

I can’t find the proper words to illustrate just how happy I am that my kid goes to Warped Tour with me now. Henry’s mom was telling me that she was flipping through the latest issue of Alternative Press and was shocked he knew nearly every band there and was telling them whether or not he liked them and why. Being able to share this with him is such a beautiful part of parenting for me and I’m really honored that he wants to be involved. You know, when Henry picked up Janna and me from the Kurt Travis show last weekend and i screamed in Henry’s fave that Kurt Travis dedicated a song to me, Henry was like *smirky frown* but Chooch is the one who excitedly asked, “WHICH SONG?!”

I love that kid. 

Meanwhile, Cabbage was one of the better bands we saw that day. Their vegcore anthem “Get Slawed” was a real crowd-pleaser. 

UNTIL TOMORROW. LET THIS GOODBYE BRUSH YOU GENTLY ON YOUR EYELASHES LIKE A BUTTERFLY. 

I think I wrote this in my sleep. I’M TALENTED!