Kurt Travis – “It’s All Over”

I was revisiting the latest Kurt Travis solo album last night (“Everything Is Beautiful”) and forgot how much I loved it, especially THISSONG OHGODBESTILLMYHEART. Chooch and I were watching live performances of it on YouTube (and also PVRIS interviews, because Chooch and I are scene girls); we love taking over the TV and making Henry sit sadly in a corner, wishing he was watching some dumb show on Spike TV.

“Maybe if it was a live Judas Priest video, you would care,” I said.

“Yeah, because that’s what I do in my spare time: watch live Judas Priest videos,” Henry snapped.

Anyway, this song is everything, please listen. (If you hate it I’M SORRY. I DID NOT WRITE THIS SONG.) I can’t wait to see Kurt again soon. (Ideally, not with Jonny Craig next time*.)

*OMG this is a Henry guest post and it’s worth reading if you’re a fan of Henry being angry and forced to do things.

Disclaimer: I can’t write objectively about Dance Gavin Dance and this post is all over the place because I’m like a little kid who just ate three meals of candy.

Before I get into the juicy details of last week’s Dance Gavin Dance show, please indulge me while I explain the sordid history of this band and what it has been like to be a fan: I go through a lot of phases, musically, but my love for Dance Gavin Dance has only gotten stronger over the years. From the moment I first heard them in my car, driving home from Cincinnati in the winter of 2008, I was entranced. I had just randomly downloaded a bunch of their stuff based on their band name and the fact that they were listed on PureVolume as post-hardcore and that is MY FAVORITE GENRE. (The amount of times I have struggled to explain what ‘post-hardcore” means to people at work is hilarious; it’s kind of like the new “wtf is emo?” in that it’s almost impossible for me to put into layman’s terms. Wiki it, I guess? Good luck!) Downtown Battle Mountain is right up there on my Stranded on an Island album list.

This was also, sadly, the start of a 7-year relationship-threatening obsession with their original clean vocalist, Jonny Craig. Thankfully, he’s no longer in DGD, which is great because I hate him now and he could have easily destroyed DGD.

Jonny era:

To this day, I have yet to hear another band that sounds even remotely like them and, in my opinion, they have only gotten better with age. The only time my love for them was strained was after they kicked out Jonny for the first time and replaced him with Kurt Travis for two albums. Look, I LOVE Kurt Travis. But during that time, their screamer Jon Mess had also left the band and his role has always been one of my favorite parts of DGD. (In fact, I think I actually fangirl over Jon more than anyone else in the band.) I only saw them live twice during the Kurt Travis-era, and ironically once was a tour where past, present and future DGD vocalists were all on: Jonny Craig was there with Emarosa, Kurt with DGD, and Tilian was there with Tides of Man. (This was in 2009, and it was also the first time I ever saw Of Mice & Men and then fell in love with Of Machines, who are sadly no longer together.) It just didn’t click with me, though I have much more appreciation for the Kurt albums now than I did then.

Kurt era:

The summer of 2010, they brought Jonny back for a new album and a tour and this was supposed to be their swan song; Jon Mess came back too and it was like the biggest music orgasm for me. I got to see Jonny perform with DGD twice after that and it was like a dream come true, and then they announced that they were going to write another new album with Jonny and it seemed like their future was so bright. Except that Jonny is a forever fuck-up and they ended up having to kick him out again, in the middle of a tour. It seemed like this was it for them for sure. Maybe Jon, Will, and Matt would just make their side project, Secret Band, their priority.

But then they announced that Tilian Pearson, formerly of Tides of Man, would be their new singer. I was on the fence. In 2011, I saw Emarosa with Tilian as an interim singer; Jonny, who was trying to be in Emarosa and DGD at the same time that year, was forced off the Emarosa tour and into detox on the same day as the Pittsburgh show. Tilian’s brother’s band at the time was also on that tour, so I guess that’s how Tilian came into play. Tilian did fine…but he wasn’t Jonny. And this is how I felt the first time I saw him with DGD at the Altar Bar. It felt wrong to me. But you guys, when they eventually recorded new music with Tilian, everything fell into place and I made a statement that I never thought I would say: Tilian is my favorite DGD singer. They just sound so cohesive with him, and he has really gotten more comfortable with performing the old stuff too. All of that said, it has been a really rewarding time to be a DGD fan. I’m Team Tilian, and DGD remains one of my favorite bands of all time.

(Henry is probably reading this and thinking, “Trust me, this is the short version.”)

Tilian era:

ANYWAY! I’m so excited because their second album with Tilian just came out in April and they were here in Pittsburgh last Sunday! I had butterflies in my stomach all weekend and kept shouting, “AREN’T YOU SO EXCITED?!?” in Henry’s face. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hate them like you would expect him to. He admitted a few years ago that he kind of liked them and I just knew it. The Robot With Human Hair Pt 2 was his ringtone for me for awhile, for Christ’s sake! He just doesn’t like being the token Old Man at all of their shows, is all.

• Henry was annoyed because instead of sitting in the car and waiting for doors to open, he had to stand in line with all of the kids. To be fair, the average age was probably about 24, but I guess when you’re as old as Henry, even that constitutes as a “kid.” There was this one teenage boy in front of us, though. His name was Collin and I know this because his mom pulled up alongside the line in her mom-wagon and started shouting, “Collin! Collin! COLLIN!” until he dejectedly left the line and walked over to her car with his head down. “I can’t wait to do that shit to Chooch,” I laughed. “Yeah, except you’ll be calling from another part of the line,” Henry mumbled. And this is probably true. Unless he starts listening to crappy bands when he’s older.
• I had a tiny container of miniature Altoids, and I tried to get Henry to pretend like they were Grown-Up drugs with me, but he was like, “Don’t be stupid.”
• As soon as we got inside Mr. Small’s, I saw Christopher Kim at the Polyphia merch booth and I got so excited! He recently made waves for leaving Jonny Craig’s current band, Slaves, and has been pretty candid on Twitter about how fucked that band is so of course I love him because Team Anyone But Slaves. I was too shy to say anything to him so I took the creepy way out and tweeted about seeing him and then he favorited it so basically, we met.
• Henry plied me with Angry Orchard in an attempt to get me to stop talking a mile a minute. I WAS SO EXCITED!!!!
• Stolas was the opening band. We saw them last September with Hail the Sun and Icarus the Owl and I loved them immediately. They’re on Will Swan’s label, Blue Swan, and are part of this intricate, technical post-hardcore sub genre that I feel like DGD should take full credit for; they’re the godfathers of this style at this point. I’ve never been a fan of prog-rock in the traditional sense, but when elements of this style is car-crashed with a post-hardcore foundation, it makes me want to start punching faces. Stolas was the perfect way to start this night. My favorite part about them is that some parts of their songs downright sound like incantations. Henry’s review: “No.”
• I like to call Henry “bae” sometimes, ironically of course, just to annoy him. But when I’m really giddy, and I was Really Giddy, I apparently called him my ride or die. “Can I choose ‘or die’?” he mumbled, while continuing to look at whatever uninteresting info his phone was showing him.
• A band I used to love was playing whilePolyphia was setting up and I played Henry’s favorite game with him, which is “Trying to Get Henry to Guess the Band & Making Him Feel Like Shit When He Fails.” Here are the clues I gave him:
  • This album is called The Ugly Organ.
  • Henry hates them.
  • Tim Kasher is their singer.
  • His other band is The Good Life.
  • We saw them at Coachella in 2004.
  • Saddlecreek.
  • “My ego’s like my stomach– it keeps shitting what I feed it.”
    • If you guessed Cursive, then you have one more point than Henry does.
• Hail the Sun is amazing. That’s literally the note I wrote myself in my phone. This was my fourth time seeing them and they just keep getting better. We saw their drummer/singer Donovan outside of the venue when we were in line and even Henry knew who he was because HE CAN’T ESCAPE THIS SCENE. Imagine how boring his life would be if he was with a girl who only listened to the radio. Boring, but probably a lot happier and with less headaches, haha. Henry’s review: “*shrugged* It’s too early in the morning for this. You should have been a news reporter.”
• The crowd was so much better than at the Circa Survive show earlier in the week. I was basically in love with every one there. Maybe those really were Grown-Up Drugs in my Altoids tin….
  • The cider also helped.
• Polyphia, holy shit. This was my first time seeing them and they blew my fucking mind. Like CHON, they’re also 100% instrumental. The crowd went apeshit over them and I think it says a lot about the talent of a band when they can capture the attention of young people without gimmicks or, you know, a vocalist. Henry did not like them, but that means nothing.

And then……..DGD!

Here are the notes I had in my phone:

• THUG CITY
• EVERYTHING IS AMAZING
• PERFECT CROWD
• JONNY WHO
• TILIAN IS THE BEST

Oh no, tangent: What I love the most about DGD fans is that most of them are music geeks in that they understand and appreciate the technicality involved in DGD’s music. These are the kinds of people who want to meet Will Swan after the show to talk about time signatures and ask him about his pedals. This is why I think that DGD is so fucking underrated. They’ve been unfairly marginalized and stuffed into a generic scene pigeonhole, which is why I think that their fan base remains young. Young people keep their minds open when it comes to music. Granted, there were some people at the show around my age, but it made me wonder: why hasn’t their fan base grown with them? Why do people hit a certain age in their 20s and just abandon what they used to love? I hope that doesn’t happen to me, ever.

DON’T PANIC, I’VE GOT A PLAN:

Tilian can sing any of the Jonny-era songs with motherfucking panache.

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY! This post is all over the place, just like their music, and just like my brain. One of the things that I miss most about Barb not working at The Law Firm anymore is that I wasn’t able to go to work the next day and vomit all of my feelings onto her desk. She was always so good about patiently listening to me jaw off about DGD! I remember telling her a long time ago that I liked this music because it panders to the dysfunction in my head; it’s what my brain would play if you plopped it on a turntable and put the needle down.

“I just love Jon Mess so much!” I shouted to Henry. “Did you know he’s a genius?” I LOVE REMINDING HENRY OF THAT! I have never loved a screamer so much before.

I didn’t stop moving the entire night and my body spent the next two days reminding me of Sunday’s perfection. I think I smiled all day long on Monday. MONDAY! Come at me, work week; I just saw DGD.

I’m so proud of this band for powering through all of the shit and turmoil and managing to create two beautiful works of art with Tilian. It feels so good to be a DGD fan. One of these days, I’m going to finally get that Robot with Human Hair tattoo. He might be holding a sword-speared strawberry.

Henry’s review: “I’ve heard all of these songs. Many times.”

HAHA SIKE. This is just another post about Warped Tour and not actually the maniacal manifesto/illegible murder confession that I think some people (Henry) have been nervously expecting.

Every time I look at the Warped Tour lineup for 2015, I feel like I might have immaculately conceived. The only downside is that there is no way I’m going to be able to see every single band on my list; there are just too many and some are bound to overlap. #musicfestivalproblems

In all of my obsessive Warped Tour thinking/planning/daydreaming, I uncovered some photos of Chooch that I never posted from his first time at Warped Tour in 2013. They were lost in some random desktop folder, probably Henry’s fault.

Christofer Drew is offering 45-minute songwriting classes this summer and Chooch and I have been talking about whether he wants me to sign him up for that or not. It costs extra, and if he’s going to get all starstruck like the last time he met Christofer, then that’s kind of a waste.

Chooch was all pissed off a few weeks ago because he was waiting for the bus that takes him to the after school program, when some middle school girl walked past him, saw that he was wearing a Pierce the Veil shirt, and said, “You probably don’t even listen to Pierce the Veil.” Bitch, he was singing Isles and Glaciers songs when he was still sitting in a CAR SEAT, so shut your dumb face.

If she only knew that he was practically born into this scene! Last night, I was YouTubing live Dance Gavin Dance videos while Chooch was putting together some Minecraft Lego thing, when he said, “Put on something from when Kurt Travis was the singer.” And then we watched an entire A Lot Like Birds show.

Because clearly, Chooch is a poser.

I hope we see that girl at the Sleeping With Sirens show next month. You know, if she was able to get tickets before they sold out in less than 5 days.

I posted a picture of my Warped Tour ticket (it’s the special 3D collectors ticket with Choonimals artwork, duh) on Instagram and WARPED TOUR REGRAMMED ME!

^^^^ Totally the apogee of my Instagram tenure.

TWO MORE MONTHS. TWO MORE MONTHS. TWO MORE MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS!!!

Me, looking around at all of the groups of friends who were stoked to be seeing Circa Survive together: Don’t you wish we had a crew?

Henry: Nope. I wish you did.

*********

Tuesday, April 28th marked my 4th time seeing Circa Survive in the span of one year. (The 6th time seeing Anthony Green in general, though, if you count the Sound of Animals Fighting and Saosin.) And it’s  too early in the morning for me to attempt and count how many times since 2005. Suffice to say, I really love this band and I was giddy as fuck all day at work because I was going to see them that night.

We went straight to Millvale after Henry picked me up from work and ate at the Grant Bar & Lounge. How have I been going to shows at Mr. Small’s for more than a decade and never eaten here?! And to think we were originally going to eat at the Subway across the street.

This place was everything I love in a dive: First, you have to walk through the bar to get to the dining room so you can take a quick tour of the town’s underbelly. And the walls are faux-stone! It was so Bavarian! I LOVE BAVARIAN.

Old school waitress buzzer!

I can’t really explain why else I liked this joint so much, other than you could tell it hadn’t been renovated since before I was born. I love dark, cave-like restaurants.

Henry had a burger and I had a grilled portabello sandwich with homemade onion rings. The food was fine (my Yelp nemesis gave them a thirty paragraph review all to say that his experience was “fair, a three-star experience, the Thesaurus taught me 92 new words as I was writing this review.” Fuck, I hate that man so badly. Of course, he gave 5 stars to the place in Millvale I originally wanted to try, so now I’m glad we didn’t go there), but it was really the ambiance that made it special for me. (Until the bitch-baby in the booth across from us started acting like an asshole and of course no one cared because she was the granddaughter of one of the waitresses and every single person eating there was a townie and used to it.)

We were about to pay the check when I overheard the old broads in the booth behind us inquire about the desserts, and our waitress started bragging about the coconut cream pie. THAT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE PIES. But it’s really easy to get a shitty piece. They ended up ordering it and when I saw that the topping was whipped cream and not meringue (a thousands fist-shakes in the face of meringue), I had to order a piece ASAP.

And I shouldn’t have, because my stomach was already emitting a series of beeps and shocks to remind me that it was over capacity.

But, pie.

COCONUT CREAM pie.

It was the best damn coconut cream pie I have ever had, and I felt so strongly about this that I wrote a “Dear Grant’s Bar” love letter on the back on the check. (Henry was just happy that it was a positive ode for once, and not one of my infamous THIS PLACE SUCKS I HOPE YOU DIE death threats that I may have been known to scrawl from time to time before dashing out the door.)

However, those last forkfuls of food (what would my Yelp nemesis have used here? Vittles? Sustenance? Something Arabic?) really sent my digestive system into overdrive. I thought I would feel better once we walked to Mr. Small’s afterward, because walking off a meal typically helps me, but no. I spent the rest of the night in deep regret. And by regret I mean that I reached a point where I couldn’t even stand up straight. And of course it was a sold out show, and the balcony area was VIP-only that night.

We ended up all of the way in the front row, but over the side, so I could lean against the stage all night. And lean I did. At some points, I was also sagged and half-collapsed across it, too. The pain was real and just kept getting worse.

The opening band was CHON. I knew that Henry wouldn’t like them. I whispered, “FYI, they don’t sing” when we were waiting for them to come out. Henry HATES that. But I have been following them on Facebook for a few years and was excited to finally see them. I heard a girl nearby ask the guy next to her if they were the same style as Circa Survive. The guy and I both laughed at the same time, and he said, “Uh, no. Not at all.”

I’m sorry, Henry, but they were pretty sick to watch and I felt like they were channeling Chuck Mangione at times. I don’t listen to this style of music very often, but it served as a nice reminder that vocals aren’t always necessary to feel something, and I am definitely guilty of focusing too much on the singing sometimes.

Balance and Composure was next and I have to be honest here: seeing that they were on this tour made me even more excited about it because I have liked them for years yet have somehow never seen them live!

I have also never really paid attention to what they look like, so I was in for a shock when they took the stage because Jon, the singer, looked so much like my co-worker A-ron that I started to wig out a little bit. I kept taking pictures to send to all of my work friends, and the next day 98% of them were like, “Holy shit, are we sure it’s not really A-ron?!” except for TODD who said that it only kind of looked like him, and JEANNIE who frowned and said “not at all” and that it just looked like “an average guy with brown hair.”

“If everyone else said it didn’t look like him, you would say it did,” I said to Jeannie in a huff, which just made her laugh BECAUSE IT’S TRUE! She enjoys being the voice of dissent. But whatever, because when I saw A-ron that day, I said to him, “I’m surprised you’re here today after your big show last night” and then I showed him the picture and A-RON HIMSELF WAS LIKE OMG. But showing him turned out to be a mistake because it totally went to his head and then he kept making air-guitar motions and that was just weird.

Anyway, seeing Balance and Composure was worth the wait. I loved it, even though my stomach was like, “NOW can we go home??”

“Remember that coconut cream pie?” I dreamily said to Henry after CHON, punctuating it with a tiny burp.

“It wasn’t that great,” he mumbled.

Somewhere in between CHON and B&C, the super normal, inoffensive and unassuming girl who was next to me moved to a different spot and before I had the chance to move over into her vacated space, the grossest couple usurped it from me. The girl was about 5 feet tall and had SCENE HAIR. I haven’t seen SCENE HAIR since 2009. It was big and teased and so close to my face that I fixated on ripping out the bobby pins all night. And she stunk, you guys. Like Love’s Baby Soft and filth.

Now I’m picturing her trying to visit someone in jail with all of those bobby pins in her gross hair.

Her boyfriend was this big fucking Jersey Shore gorilla juice head who was wearing a TIGHT DRESS SHIRT.

You know how sometimes you just can’t help it, but you hate someone on sight? These were two people who did not have to give you any more of a reason to hate them other than just existing. AND THEY KEPT LOVINGLY GIVING EACH OTHER PECKS ON THE LIPS as if I wasn’t already having a hard time holding back my bile. I was having vivid hallucinations of yanking the rat’s nest off her head, I just couldn’t stand her. And during B&C, she spotted Anthony Green and squealed to her boyfriend and then jumped up and down and clapped her tiny little scene-fairy hands and I was like OH HOW FUCKING SWEET. YES I’M SURE YOU HAVE A SHOT WITH ANTHONY GREEN.

Then Gorilla Juice Head left her to stand ALL ALONE while he went and purchased practically one of everything from the merch booth for her, which she then kept in a pile on the side-stage area in front of her, and I swear to god she kept looking at me over her shoulder and then sliding her t-shirts closer to her, like yeah bitch, I’m going to steal your XS shirts. I just hated the way she kept looking at me, like I didn’t belong there, and I know it’s awful and I shouldn’t care, but it made me feel really uncomfortable (like I wasn’t already thanks to Grant’s Bar) and I started to feel like everyone was staring at me and that maybe I really didn’t belong there, and I haven’t had such low self-esteem issues like that at a show in a REALLY LONG TIME.

I would have just moved somewhere else, but I really needed to stay where I was because leaning against that stage was like a literal crutch for me, that’s how bad my stomach hurt. It was a sold-out show, and there was quite honestly no better place for me to go, other than home. And I wasn’t leaving without seeing Circa Survive.

Then this happened: 

WOW JUST WOW HENRY.  
Also, I felt disoriented because I swear every time we go to Mr. Small’s, something in there has changed. They’re constantly working on additions, which is great, but it’s made it seem very unfamiliar to me. I felt like a stranger in a place that used to be home.

And this is why this ended up being the worst Circa Survive show I’ve ever gone to. And it’s nothing against the band at all, because they were such amaze much wow as usual. I just could barely enjoy it.

They played all of my faves from Juturna. That album never gets old.

I felt like I was floating out of my body at one point. The pain, so real. Call an ambulance. And Henry kept getting pushed into me and every time I felt his belly pressing into my back I wanted to fucking murder him. I kept turning around to glare at him and he hissed, “What do you want me to do? Do you SEE all of the people in here?!” Ugh, I just didn’t want to be touched! It was terrible! Anthony’s antics were only making it slightly more tolerable, but I admittedly kept praying, “Please let this be the last song” 20 minutes into their set. It was hard enough standing there in physical pain, but the vibe from the crowd exacerbated my discomfort. Even Henry was like, “There were a lot of assholes there that night.” And Henry’s threshold for assholes is much greater than mine.

I was really looking forward to this show. I woke up with that excited thrill in my belly and spent all day at work bouncing in my seat, counting down the minutes. But, I guess they can’t all be wins, right? This show ranks at the bottom, with the 2005 Grog Shop show and last December’s Philly show with Terri tying for first place. That December hometown show was just so right on so many levels.

It took more than  two days for my stomach to make up with me. I don’t know what the hell Grant’s did to me, other than my stomach just being overly sensitive to greasy food these days. That’s one way to keep the weight off!

***

Today, while following Chooch around on a bike trail, I asked Henry some questions about his billionth Circa Survive experience. Here are his scintillating* answers:

*(I did not consult a Thesaurus on that, thx.)

What did you think of CHON?

*gives me a ‘don’t be stupid’ look*

Did you like Balance and Composure?

Ehhhhhhhh. Not really.

If you could use your beard to smuggle anything into a concert, what would it be?

I don’t know. I wouldn’t. Why do I need to smuggle anything in? I just want to get out. 

Do you like old or new Circa Survive songs best?

I don’t know the difference. *mumbles: I can’t believe I’m answering these*

What was the highlight for you? You’re sleeping!!

I’m not sleeping, I’m thinking! I don’t know. Two girls fighting at the end. 

Off the top of your head, name three bands that you dislike seeing even more than Circa Survive.

Whatever that first band was. Crone? Cron? 

Slaves. 

If Anthony Green started a line of barbeque sauces, how tempted would you be to try them?

That’s a weird question. I would try them, but only because it’s barbecue sauce.  

I would pour some on my Anthony Greenbeans and dip my Circa Surfries in it. How does it make you feel when Anthony spreads his mouth open with his hands?

Weird. 

Does it bring back prepubescent memories of sexual confusion?

*sleeping for real*

HENRY!!!

No. 

(I don’t think he understood the question.)

3 comments

Clearly, Dance Gavin Dance is one of my favorite bands in the whole entire world, so when they offered an extremely limited edition mega-bundle pre-order that included hand-written lyrics, my brain was like DO NOT EVEN LOOK AT THE PRICE JUST FUCKING PURCHASE! So I did and Henry was like, “That’s fine. I didn’t need to buy groceries this week.” Except that he kept those surly sentiments in his head because he knows better than to get lippy with me when it comes to band stuff.

I got my pre-order in the mail last week, and a day later, the lyrics were sent directly from Tilian Pearson! (I was very happy with the song that was chosen for me, too! Although, I would have been happy with any of them, to be honest, because this new album is perfection.) I couldn’t wait to go out and buy a frame for the lyrics, but then I was like, “HENRY CAN YOU MAKE ME A MAT OUT OF THE INSTANT GRATIFICATION ALBUM ART?!” and he did it because he is the fucking best in the whole entire world and I love him.

(I only love him when he’s doing shit for me, FYI. I haven’t turned soft on you.)

And now it’s on the wall, right next to the DGD painting I made back in 2008 out of the DGD t-shirt that Christina bought for me that fit too awkwardly.

I’m so happy right now. It’s the little things, guys.

And a big shout out to Mattias Adolfsson, the phenomenal artist who designed most of DGD’s album covers. I am infatuated with him.

Here are some pictures of things that happened today.

Apparently, I had just a smidge too much wine last night, because when I woke up this morning, I felt like I had spent the night at Burning Man, and not just hosting several friends for a Marcy memorial. Wine hangovers are my jam, if by that I mean that I just puked into a jar of Smuckers. Luckily, I recovered in time to be able to traipse around the cemetery with Henry while Chooch was at piano.

Traipsing.

The cemetery in which the traipsing occurred.

Me: “Why do you need a stick?”

Henry: “In case I need to hit a hipster on a bike.”

Valid.

Then we went to the mausoleum to pee and I wanted Henry to take fun and hilarious selfies with me but then I remembered that he’s against fun.

After Chooch’s piano lesson, we went to the playground in North Park, where Chooch managed to kick a soccer ball into his face, flip through the air, fall into a tree stump, and start bleeding all within 10 seconds. It was truly a sight to behold. Then he complained that he didn’t have anyone to play with and we were like THERE ARE NO LESS THAN 8 BOYS AROUND YOUR OWN AGE MILLING ABOUT AIMLESSLY JUST LIKE YOU’RE DOING, GO PICK ONE TO BE AWKWARD WITH.

Then after awhile I realized I hadn’t seen him for a good 10 minutes (there was some car race happening in the parking lot, and it was distracting me from being a parent).  “Where is our child?” I asked and Henry just shrugged. “I don’t know. Over in Pouter’s Field somewhere.” That’s when we found him sitting behind a tree like the Saddest Kid Ever, which was kind of apropos since it’s National Only Child Day (technically he’s not, but when your siblings are 14+ years older than you….).

And that is how Henry and I were guilted into kicking a soccer ball back and forth even though Henry has two broken Pallet Jack Feet and I was wearing TOMS. (Have you ever kicked a soccer ball while wearing TOMS? Feels fucking fantastic.)

Then we went to Kelley’s Dari Delite for ice cream and I changed my mind 18 times (seriously—hard ice cream or soft serve?! A milkshake or a sundae!?) but eventually opted for maple soft serve (maple is my everything) with crunchies and for once I felt pretty secure in my final decision.

Not actually whining.

And now I will leave you with my current favorite song from the new Dance Gavin Dance album, Instant Gratification, which comes out on Tuesday and you should go buy it. Borderline infatuated with it. OK fine, lose the “borderline.” I’m straight psycho for this record. I was trying to tell Henry earlier how perfect Tilian Pearson is for Dance Gavin Dance, and how it’s almost like Jonny Craig was never even in this band, but then I started to cry, because #emotions #posthardcoreprobs #scenekidsentiments

(That 2:07 mark, tho. Heart eyes for days.)

Sometimes my day can be so spectacularly disappointing (all work-related, nothing that actually matters) but then something music-related happens to save the day. Pierce the Veil was added to the Warped Tour lineup, and even though everyone pretty much already knew that because of a leaked flyer, it was still awesome to find out for sure!

This year’s Warped Tour has the potential to be better than 2008, which was my favorite one! 

Trufax: When all of my friends were head over heels in love with Alanis Morissette in high school, I wasn’t impressed. I remember one day on the way to tennis practice, my friend Christy was like, “You should listen to this, I bet you would like it” and I all, “Nah bro, that’s too white for me.” If it wasn’t being reviewed by Rap Pages or The Source magazines, then I wasn’t interested. I didn’t hate Alanis like I hate Katy Perry, it wasn’t like that at all. She just wasn’t my thang.

(She was Corey’s thang, though. I have live footage of him singing a mangled rendition of “Ironic” when he was 4. And hoo boy, was it interesting!)

But then one day in 1998 (my Golden Year), I was in the car with my mom and she cried, “HAVE YOU HEARD THIS SONG YET?!?!” as Alanis’s most recent track began playing on the radio. I rolled my eyes at first because once my mom hit her 40s, her taste in music became way less respectable. That fucking Lonestar song was her favorite song for at least 7 straight years, tied only with Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide.” Ugh, please don’t let that happen to me.

(As if.)

So I expected this song to be pure, homogenized shit.

But it wasn’t. It was fucking haunting and creepy and it made the hairs on my arms stand erect.

I went out and bought the City of Angels soundtrack specifically for “Uninvited.”

***************

Henry and I were just waking up on Easter morning when that goddamn Goo Goo Doll’s song, “Iris,” came on the bedroom radio. I have been waking up in a sour mood lately, the byproduct of a zillion conflicting emotions crashing into each other like blind people in a mosh pit, and because of this, I got very angry at this song.

“I can’t believe that this song is still being played on the radio when it was like, the least best song on the City of Angels soundtrack!” I cried into the side of Henry’s face. “DON’T YOU REMEMBER HOW SICK THAT ALANIS TRACK WAS?

!”

And he sleepily mumbled that no, no he did not remember. So I fumbled for my phone, because that is my favorite thing to do, cull up songs that he apparently has no recollection of. And then I placed in on his pillow, volume maxed out, right next to his ear. It’s his favorite way to fully wake up.

That moment was the first time in probably 15 years that I have heard “Uninvited,” and goddamn if my arm hairs didn’t stand just as erect.

I have obviously fallen down the 1998 rabbit hole and I don’t want to come back. I’ll send post cards. And a Delia*s catalog. And then when I come back, I’m making a Spotify playlist.

Because that year, that whole entire year, was my motherfucking jam.

I’m making heart-hands over this so hard over here, you guys. Every one of the videos from their Audiotree session was so good, I had to close my eyes and pick which one to post here.

Here is what Henry mumbled about them:

Me: Will you go see them?

Henry: Yeah.

Me: Omg so you like them?

Henry: No.

****

Earlier today, I felt like I was on the cusp of nervously breaking down, so I went for an aimless walk around Brookline to try and compartmentalize the spasming thoughts in my broken head. I walked past Tourette’s, who was humming a song to himself. Even he was in an OK mood!

My pretend-casual stroll (which had morphed into an angry march one block in) didn’t help. But listening to music is. Thank you, Pillow Talk, for grounding me. Henry thanks you too, because it’s temporarily defused my hissy fits.

One day last December, I woke up hungry for Howard Jones, as one often does. As I turned on Spotify with my blood-stained unicorn horn, I casually asked myself, “I wonder if Howard Jones is touring?” HoJo has been on my Concert Bucket List for years and years and years. Like Mike+the Mechanics, he represents a good chunk of my childhood, although the emotions behind it are way  more upbeat and cheerful because I associate him almost solely with ROLLERSKATING. It was kind of weird that these two shows happened to fall back-to-back.

He was playing at the Trinity Cathedral downtown Cleveland, and I was totally relieved when Henry did some sleuthing (a/k/a actually reading the church’s website) and found out that there was on-site parking. One less thing for me to worry about! Except he didn’t tell me that parking was $10, which had to come out of my merch fund, ugh!

Janna and I got there about 15 minutes before doors. The line wasn’t long at all, and honestly a quick scan learned me that Janna and I were the youngest fans there so far. I figured the line would be relatively obnoxious BUT I COULDN’T HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG. This terrible old couple slinked into line right behind us and proceeded to engage in the most banal banter about nursing home food. The wife had a monotone midwestern lilt and I kept mouthing, “I’m going to fucking kill her” to Janna, who looked like she was being pushed to her limits, you guys, which is saying a lot because Janna works with behaviorally-damaged adults. (Is that a real term? I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S OK TO SAY THESE DAYS.)

Once the doors opened and we made inside the lobby, the wife started FREAKING THE FUCK OUT, albeit monotonally, because the event staff kept telling everyone to have their IDs ready.

“I DON’T HAVE MY LICENSE WHAT AM I GOING TO DO ARE THEY GOING TO MAKE ME LEAVE.” <—This, over and over, even though her husband kept saying, “I don’t know.” Have these people never in their 89 years been to a concert before? Good lord. Maybe you should have stayed home and binge-watched “All In the Family,” Edith.

Then Janna was all excited because she saw some girl trip on her way to the bathroom and play it off by acting like she was just breaking into a sprint.

The line moved pretty quickly and soon Janna and I had our drinking wristbands on since we were smart enough to bring our IDs, Edith. A second line formed after we had our tickets scanned, and this one snaked into a room with a makeshift bar and  the most entertaining bartender who was determined to get everyone drunk, even if they didn’t want to get out of line.

Janna got a $9 mixed drink.

Janna’s $9 mixed drink.

I wasn’t going to drink at first, but then I was like “FUCK IT I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH CASH ON ME TO GET A SHIRT NOW ANYWAY” thanks to Henry not telling me about the NOT-FREE parking lot. So I bought a $6 cup of wine and it was just enough to make me not want to fly home and give Henry a Mexican necktie for ruining my life.

Then some dude in charge was walking around telling everyone that the show was going to be filmed and explained that it was going to be held in the Cathedral itself, which was a happy surprise for me because I just assumed it was going to be in some annex-type thing. When the line started moving again and we slowly made our way into the main part of  the Cathedral, my breath got all caught up in my atheistic throat and memories of when I believed in God came fluttering back. It was good. Just nice little tingles of comfort and familiarity and not the skin-searing sensation of spontaneous combustion that you’d expect from me crossing the threshold of God’s House.

Religion aside, I honestly do love churches and cathedrals for their architectural aesthetics and history. Just being there made the hair stand up like little erect penes on my arms.

The first 15 or so rows were reserved, but we managed to snag good seats — well, my seat was good, but Janna was irritated because some tall broad planted herself in front of Janna and then never moved. I think Amazonian may have kind of clapped once, but it might have been an accident. But from my spot, I was able to see Howard and his hot pink blazer the whole time, in your face JANNA!

The girl who tripped on the way to the bathroom ended up being in the first row, so who’s laughing now, I guess.

The only downside of the night was the opener. It was just supposed to be this singer-songwriter, Cobi Mike, but apparently at the last minute the event organizers snagged some local Cleveland Ashanti wannabe — Nefertiti. Guys, you know I love me some R&B, but this wasn’t the night for it. Nefertiti came out looking like Miss America, with Cobi in all denim accompanying her on guitar. It just didn’t make sense from the start. Luckily, she only sang three songs, two of which were covers. The first one she explained was by “a virtual band who present themselves as cartoons.”

But she never said it was Gorillaz.

“Maybe she thinks everyone here is too old to know who they are,” Janna said. I mean, there were A LOT of old people there.

The second song was one of her originals and get this you guys—it was about LOVE. What a strange theme for a song.

The third was the Beatles’ “Blackbird” and I made a flying-bird motion with my hands when it was almost over, because bitch fly the fuck home. She was a real snooze-fest. Henry probably would have loved her.

After she left the stage, Cobi Mike went on to perform 6 songs and I was INTO IT. Janna said she lost interest after the first two songs, probably because he wasn’t doing any Bloodhound Gang covers. Because that seems like something that would make Janna get out of her seat, I don’t know.

Here’s a Cobe Mike song I found on YouTube to give you an idea of his Hot Angel face, I mean…smooth voice:

When he comes to Pittsburgh, I’m going. Just not with JANNA, I guess, since she HATES HIM.

After Cobi’s set, we went to the bathroom but nothing good happened there aside from two old broads having a conversation with each other over top of my stall. On the way back, we got stuck in some bottlenecked corridor while Nefertiti was doing a meet and greet, but I think it was actually just her family who came out to see her. But Jesus Christ, go somewhere else and tell her how proud you are! I eventually just barreled my way through with no excuse mes given because I don’t like her.

And then Janna saw someone she knows and got all hair-in-face covert about it, so I of course had to text Corey about it on the ASAP because we love texting about Janna’s comings and goings. Then Janna showed me the guys who have recently viewed her dating profile and that was enjoyable. Lots of black men in their 50s.

Right before Howard, the Cathedral’s pastor came out in a bitchin’ leather jacket to talk to us about her vision for the church in the 21st century, how this new concert series they’ve been dabbling in has been so successful, but to please remember that this is still God’s House at the end of the day, so please don’t make a mess. Since this wasn’t a Warped Tour crowd, I figured the church was pretty safe.

BUT THEN IT WAS HOWARD JONES TIME!!!! He came out on the wings of celestial synth and if someone had interviewed me right then, it would have been all, “*SQUEAL! SQUEAL! SQUEAL!*” He walked around the crowd a little bit before joining his band on stage and I was just like, “UGH JANNA!!!” because I wanted him to walk just a little bit further to where we were. I would have pushed the broad next to me aside for one quick touch.

The sound was obviously incredible. I can’t imagine a better venue—it was so intimate and the crowd was great. There were tons of old bitches throwing themselves around in fantastical 1980s prom revisitations. I hope I still have fun like that when I’m old. I’ll probably at least still be heckling Janna, and that’s definitely fun!

He played all of his big hits and I was having synthgasms all up in that ecclesiastical piece. Synthpop is one of my all-time favorite genres of music and to hear it live is always such a dream. It makes me feel such happiness all the way to the core — there was no weeping at this show. It was all sing-alongs and bouncing and screaming. When Henry was “courting” me (lol), he played off this fact about me and made me synthpop mixed CDs and bought me compilations from A Different Drum. Henry was such a catch back then! (Fine. I guess he still is.)

My earliest memory of Howard Jones was in 1984. One of the network TV stations had a show called Friday Night Videos, and my dad used to keep a blank VHS tape in the VCR, waiting to hit “record” when songs he liked would come on. Howard Jones’ “New Song” was one of those videos, and if I knew then what I know now, I’d have cried, “This is the fucking jam!”

When I moved out of the house at 18, I slipped that VHS tape of videos, with its shoddy masking tape label, into one of my boxes. Because that tape was my everything as a kid! Sure, it means nothing now in the age of YouTube, but—there are some 80s commercials on it, and about 8 minutes of Days of Our Lives. It’s a fucking time capsule.

It’s funny: my relationship with my step-dad was strained and dysfunctional, but he inadvertently managed to cultivate my musical tastes. I didn’t get that from my mom.

This should be everyone’s anthem. Throw off your mental chains!

Here is his set list, in case you’re reading this and know who Howard Jones is, and if you still don’t, I linked to some of his most popular videos because I’m thorough like that (sometimes):

• Pearl in the Shell
• Like to Get to Know You Well
• Everlasting Love
• Joy
• No One Is To Blame
• The Prisoner
• Life in One Day
• The Human Touch
• What Is Love?
• New Song
• Hide and Seek
• Hold On To Your Heart
• Things Can Only Get Better
• Things Can Only Get Better – techno reprise

Howard’s keyboard stand changed colors and now I desperately want to get one for Chooch. When I showed it to Henry, he smirked and said, “Good luck with that.” WHY DON’T YOU BE A REAL FATHER AND MAKE ONE, THEN?!

On the way out, I noticed that there were empty cups and other various refuse all over the place. What fucking assholes. Even old people can’t be civilized at shows.

And thankfully for Henry’s ballsack, Howard’s merch table took credit cards, so I was able to get a shirt after all.

I still get so giddy just thinking about being in a cathedral with Howard Jones! But I still had a 2.5 hour drive home in the dark, fueled by extreme hyperactivity from the day’s events, and hilarity over the fact that the combined effort of Janna and I nearly couldn’t figure out the headlights on the fucking rental car. I was actually driving a few miles without them on, but then we stopped at Sheetz for coffee and Janna stood in front of the car while I twisted the dial every which way.

Once we were on the road again, Janna said, “I’m glad we have headlights now.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, tearing into my Melt leftovers, and then realized that I had forgotten to turn them back on after I got gas. OH, HOW WE LAUGHED. And then I almost cried because I was tired but giddy. We got back to Pittsburgh around 2AM but then I couldn’t fall asleep until 3:30. I woke up at 6:30AM on Sunday, so that did wonders for  my mood disorders. But, worth it!

You guys, I saw Howard Jones! The only way that night could have been any better would be it was at Spinning Wheels and I was ten-years-old again.

Earlier tonight, I was inspired to listen to music that makes me want to die, which is Henry’s absolute favorite activity to watch me participate in! After The Used’s “Blue & Yellow” (which I haven’t been able to listen to in its entirety for years), I switched over to Armor For Sleep.

“Why do you torture yourself?” Henry sighed in a rhetorical fashion, because he knows why. He might  not understand it, but he knows the answer.

“I’d give anything—-” I started to say, but my voice got strangulated by impending tears. “—to see Armor For Sleep again.”

Henry just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

I listened to this album A LOT on my drives to Cincinnati in 2005 and it still holds up so well, ten years later. Such a sorely underrated band. You should listen to them. Would it make any of you 30 Rock fans more interested if I told you that the singer Ben Jorgensen is married to Katrina Bowden?

But seriously, if they would get back together for just one last tour….I’d drive to Cincinnati again for that.

Emo forever.

It was all the way back in October when I was getting ready for work and heard on the radio that Mike + the Mechanics were touring America for the first time in 25 years, and Pittsburgh was one of the stops. I freaked the fuck out and texted Henry immediately because I needed to see this.

When I was a kid, my Pappap used to drive me to school (which is probably where my fear of public transportation stems from—I never rode the bus to school!) and he went through a pretty heavy Mike + the Mechanics phase after they released The Living Years. He kept the cassette in his truck and every time the title track would play, he would thrum his fingers along the steering wheel and get real quiet. He told me once that this song made him think of his father, but because I was At That Age, I never actually bothered to ask him questions about their relationship: if it was bad, if there were things he regretted saying or not saying to him, did he miss him. So in a way, this song has always had the same effect on me, as well. And after my Pappap died in 1996, I would sometimes listen to this on purpose, just to make myself even more miserable. Because why not.

I had to go to this show, because I just couldn’t stop thinking that maybe my Pappap would be there. Dumb? Don’t care.

In addition to this, there are the other face-value factors, such as MIKE RUTHERFORD. I loved (and still love) Genesis when I was a kid, and while I got to see Phil Collins, I never had the opportunity to see Genesis. So even though M+M have two new singers who replace Paul Carrack and the deceased Paul Young, being under the same roof as Mike Rutherford was worth it to me. And the other factor is that it’s just a great fucking band with some huge hits that defined my childhood.

Every time I would hear the commercial for the show on the radio, I would tear up. And all last week, I was sick to my stomach with excitement and also anxiety, because I knew it was going to be a rough one, emotionally.

Henry and I had time to stop for dinner beforehand, and because it’s all about me, we went to the Tin Roof, a vegetarian restaurant a few blocks away from the Carnegie Music hall. The food was OK, but I’m so spoiled by Zenith that it takes a lot to impress me when it comes to vegetarian cuisine. I had carrot ginger risotto, which was slightly burnt and served on a roasted portabello mushroom; I feel like Gordon Ramsay would have called the cook a donkey over that one, but I still ate it and it was fine. Henry basically ordered the thing on the menu that had the most cheese because god forbid, No Meat.

I had some wine to calm my nerves. It didn’t work.

Thrilled to be on a date with me!

We arrived shortly before the opener went on, and I was happy to see that Henry got us the same seats we had for Goblin last year. I love balconies! And then we looked on in amusement as more and more people trickled in and Henry realized he was one of the Younger Ones for once. And if that was true, then I was practically infantile by comparison.

I love the vibe at Older People shows. You know I love my scene kid shows, but sometimes it’s nice to experience other things, too! I was about to say that older people are much more respectful and appreciative at concerts, but then I remembered the old hags I was standing behind at Afghan Whigs at Riot Fest, who never shut their fucking Botoxed faces. So we’ll just go ahead and say, “Mostly.”

Daryl Stuermer, also formerly of Genesis, opened the show at 7:30. He played some covers as well as his own solo stuff, but what I liked best was when he would talk in between songs. Especially when he told the story of when his friend urged him to audition for Genesis in 1977, and then Mike Rutherford sent him a cassette of demos.

“You seem like the type of crowd who would be familiar with cassettes,” Daryl joked and I laughed just a tad too hard, because Henry hates that.

Then when Daryl announced he was from Milwaukee, I adopted that weird growling-voice I do sometimes and said in Henry’s ear, “So was Jeffrey Dahmer.” Henry just shrugged me away from him. 

My favorite parts of Daryl’s set was when the man in front of me would pump his fist and cry out, “YES!” and then follow-up with a quieter “Yes.” Also, I enjoyed his cover of “Shock the Monkey.”

It was sometime around this point where I fell into my standard, “What if someone starts shooting?” paranoid thoughts, and then I started laughing out loud at how absurd it would be to start a story with, “That one time I got shot at a Mike+the Mechanics show.”

After Daryl peaced out, Henry and I went to the makeshift bar and I got more wine. Henry got beer or something, I guess.

And then it was time.

Everyone went nuts when they came out, and while I do love to see an old folk go apeshit, my heart was beating so rapidly that I didn’t have it in me to mock any of them for Henry. I know he felt sorely remiss. All I kept on thinking was, “OMG THIS IS HAPPENING YOU GUYS!” because “you guys” are always in my thoughts. Whoever the fuck you are.

The new singers? PHENOMENAL. I was so worried they were going to stink up the classics, but nope. Nope, nope, nope. Tim Howar was my favorite of the two: he reminded me of a young Phil Collins, ironically, vocally and appearance-wise. I fucking swear to god he kept looking up and smiling at me too, and not at the old lady in front of me, so don’t get it twisted, lady. Immediately, I was like, “OMG HENRY I HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM” and Henry was like, “He’s wearing a scarf, so…”

So I was OK, smiling and clapping a lot through the first two songs, just generally being happy to be there, when “Silent Running” happened. Earlier that day, I told Glenn, “I am going to cry so hard when they play Silent Running” because I just love that song so much and my god, the childhood memories. However, I was mostly joking. I figured I would probably tear up like I do at most shows, but what happened that night was so much more than “tearing up.” Before I even knew what was happening, tears were straight SQUIRTING out of my eyes, my face involuntarily scrunched up, and my bottom lip was quivering so badly that I was afraid I would never get it to stop.

I had gone from “Yay this is fun” to “UGLYCRY” before the vocals even kicked in. I went from “OMG TIM LOOK AT MEEEEEE!” to “OMG TIM STOP LOOKING OVER HERE, I’M A MONSTER. A WET-FACED MONSTER!!” It was seriously concerning. I mean, I’m crying right now just typing this.

And then Tim performed the Genesis track “I Can’t Dance” and if I closed my eyes, it really felt like Phil Collins was there. It was SO GOOD that I actually stopped crying for a little bit.

This bimbo in front of me was wildin’ out all night and at first I was all about it, but then After the Tears, I was so pissed off and wanted to punch her in the back of the head because I was miserable and EVERYONE AROUND ME NEEDED TO BE MISERABLE TOO. (Seriously though — she was fine. I was just being a crybaby. Literally.)

And they played “Taken In”! That was one of the many highlights I was witnessed through tear-blurred eyes. It had been a really long time since I heard that one.

But then the inevitable happened: They played “The Living Years” and I couldn’t stop it. I tried. So hard. But I began to absolutely sob and I was actually too distressed and absorbed in my own pitiful cocoon of grief to be even a little bit embarrassed about it. My whole face was spasming and soaking wet with tears, so I can only imagine what a lovely sight I was STOP LOOKING, TIM. I mean, I cry pretty much every day because I’m Erin Rachelle Kelly, but I can’t remember the last time I expelled such pent-up sadness. It was a good old-fashioned bereavement.

Every word of that song slammed against my heart like a mallet and I just felt pain. Everywhere. Like arthritis all over my body. I put my face into Henry’s chest and wailed, “This was a mistake.” Almost 20 years and it’s still like this this gaping wound that time just fucking refuses to heal. And though it was painful, it was worth it in the end. Like honoring a part of my childhood, one of the best parts of my childhood. I think my Pappap would have been happy to know I was there.

“Weren’t they incredible?” I sighed to Henry in that weird, on the verge of hiccuping voice you get when you cry like a little bitch for too long. And my Henbot 4000 blip-bleeped that “they were ok.” And then I cried about it some more in the car, because when you open the floodgates….Shows like this really make realize how much I’m carrying with me.   “You look really tired,” Janna said when Henry and I came home to relieve her of her Chooch-sitting duties. I guess that’s what an hour-long power-weep will do to you.
*********
Coincidentally, the next day Janna and I were en route to Cleveland, and because road trips are the best times to reminisce, we were talking about the stupid shit that’s happened over the course of our friendship, including the time I almost killed an FBI agent and the time I got pulled over at 3AM for going through a flashing red light in a pretty bad area of Pittsburgh and then your basic traffic violation hilarity ensued (a story for another day).

“We were listening to Mike + the Mechanics that night, you know,” Janna pointed out, and I have no idea why I can’t remember that, other than it was probably when I was going through one of my many mental crises.

*********

It felt like losing my Pappap all over again.

OK I’m a big fan of Banks’ original version of this song, but Love, Robot’s cover makes the feelings tumble out of me.

“What if the way we started made it something cursed from the start” indeed.

Thank the fucking Good Sweet Brown that it is Friday. This week was a….weird one. Let’s bullet it out.

• I mentioned in passing earlier this week that BARB is leaving the Law Firm. Words cannot express the emotional paralysis I’m experiencing because of this. WHO WILL TAKE CARE OF ME?!?! I suggested that she train Glenn and we all had a good laugh. Who will post passive-aggressive signs in the kitchen when someone leaves their dirty shit in the sink for more than 5 minutes, or send snippy emails to all the right people when our printer gives up the ghost for the 87th time this week or there is an alarming stench emanating from the restroom!? BAAR-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-ARRRRRB, DON’T GO!!!!
  • SPEAKING OF, we were out of plastic spoons in the kitchen for a few days and I kept having to go to a different floor to get some. Then I would come back to my desk and fill Glenn in on my latest quest, because he lives for these updates. When I came to work the other day, this was sitting on my desk, because Glenn apparently IS trying to be New Barb! I t old Amber-with-Child that this means Glenn and I are basically BFFs now. A few minutes later, she asked me where he was and I was like, “I don’t know. We’re not THAT good of friends.”
    • But back to the spoons: to use them or nah? THEY MIGHT BE LACED.

• Several of my friends posted that JNCO is coming back! I was like OMG memories because I used to wear the shit out of JNCO, Stussy, Karl Kani (that was my SHIT), and Cross Colours. I started Googling the other brands and was so stoked to see that they’re all still around, but the Karl Kani hoodies especially made me catch my breath. I kept shoving my phone in Henry’s face so he could really marvel over the Kani signature name plate on the shirts. Henry was like, “Nope. Still don’t remember.”  HE WAS THE GODFATHER OF URBAN FASHION, for Tupac’s sake! I was really going hard down memory lane at this point and asked Henry if he remembered the clothing store Merry Go Round. He said yes, probably just to placate me, and I went on to tell him that’s where I bought all of my yo-girl threads. “Cross Colours in particular had an entire girls’ line of clothes, but I always wanted the boy stuff. Because I was a THUG,Henry.” Henry sighed and murmured, “Yeah. I keep forgetting.”
  • Ugh, why didn’t I keep all those old clothes?! Now I feel sick over this.
• 

• OMG THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER HAPPENED. The other day, Barb was all, “Yo, how far into Breaking Bad are you?” and I was all, “Blahblah blah Jane and Jesse” and Barb was all, “DID YOU NOTICE WHO JANE’S DAD IS!?” And I was like, “What no who?!” and she was like, “He was on some soap opera years ago, I can’t remember if it was Another World or Days of Our Lives, and for some reason all I can remember is that he had a girlfriend named Calliope—-” I cut her off to cry, “EUGENE!?!?!?!? AND HE WAS AN INVENTOR! AND WHEN HE AND CALLIOPE GOT MARRIED HER DRESS LIT UP!!!”  and then I had to run back to my desk and YouTube it before my head exploded because if there is one thing I fucking go bananas over, it is 1980s-era Days of Our Lives, people. So then that night, I was so excited to tell Henry, but apparently my lead-in was too over-the-top because he thought it was going to be something more amazing, and I’m like MORE amazing? What more could you want? Eugene fucking Bradford is on Breaking Bad!
  • The next day, I told Barb that I watched another episode of Breaking Bad the night before and was so excited to see that it really is him, and I even cried out JOHN DELANCIE! when his name popped up in the opening credits. Then we were talking about Calliope and I mentioned that Arlene Sorkin was like, my style icon as a kid and Barb was like, “Oh I didn’t know that was her name in real life.” I told her that of course I knew her name, because I kept a Days of Our Lives scrapbook when I was in elementary school. Don’t be jealous.
    • Eugene was last seen in Salem in 1989, after which he disappeared in his time machine.
• Yesterday, Glenn was telling campfire tales about the OLDEN DAYS when it was unheard of for schools to have 2-hour delays due to weather. “Except for that one time in the 70s when the rivers froze and the barges couldn’t get through. Schools were closed that day.” Then he and Patrick launched into some sordid conversation about gas fireplaces and I was like, “Where am I? Is this Hell?”
  • Also, Glenn lectured meonnot watering my stupid spider plant often enough. “Look at it, it’s all desiccated,” he monotoned. “MAYBE THAT’S HOW I LIKE MY THINGS!” I cried defensively. Glenn must have just learned the word “desiccate” because he seemed excited to use it. Why couldn’t he have been this active when I was live-blogging our terrible late shift?
    • Barb would never lecture me. Whenever she tries to teach me to do something new (like, use an apple corer or find my way around town), she always swaddles her words in baby’s breath and whatever material the gloves that handle the Stanley Cup are made from, and punctuates it with a reminder that I am a special, special star.
• OK, girl talk: Pretty much have spent all week obsessing over Lynn Gunn’s (singer of PVRIS) relationship with Love, Robot vocalist Alexa San Roman. And thank god, too, because I am so over Whitney and Sada. All they do on Instagram is post club flyers and pictures of their post-workout smoothies!!  So I’ve officially hopped on the fast train to Lynn & Alexa Town. Of course, this obsession is salt/wound, but I don’t care. Last night, I was babbling on to Henry about something that I read about them. “I saw it on the Lynn & Alexatumblr,” I excitedly explained. Henry responded with a stretch of intensely disappointed frowns. “WHAT HENRY?! HASHTAG RELATIONSHIP GOALS, OK?!” Seriously. I wish I could go back to my early 20s and bag a hot lesbian singer in a beanie and then hold hands at Warped Tour. I clearly chose the wrong path. #LESBICORE
  • Thank god Henry is so goddamn patient with me.
• Today I’m wearing a shirt that I forgot I  bought in the junior department of JCPenney’s and apparently it’s a “great color on me.” Sometimes coming to work is a real feel-good experience. And while I really appreciate the compliment, I’mma pretend it was really coming from my figmented girlfriend who sings in a make-believe post-hardcore band. 

Me in my nice-colored shirt.

• The security guard just tromped past my desk with a new security guard who looks like a 1980s serial killer….or Henry in the 90s. I feel considerably less safe.
• All I want to do this weekend is write stories.

HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND, INTERNET BEINGS!

Wednesday, February 11th, fuck yeah! That was the night of the Pierce the Veil/Sleeping with Sirens World Tour here in Pittsburgh. They played here for two nights because Pittsburgh goes HARD for PTV; I wanted to go both nights but Henry was like YEAH RIGHT PICK ONE so we went the second night because everyone knows that the second night is the best. (That’s a thing, isn’t it?)

We went to Rivertown first for a quick pizza dinner and drinks, passing the ever-growing line of kids outside of Stage AE. Worried about not getting a good spot, I lied and said that the show started at 6. “An early show tonight, I guess,” I shrugged, and Henry didn’t question me.  I rushed him out of Rivertown around 5 so we could get in line.

“Are you kidding me?!” Henry cried, double-checking his ticket once we were already firmly planted in the snaking row of scene kids. “It says DOORS at 6, not SHOW at 6!” And I just laughed, because duh. So we stood outside in the cold for the next hour while crackheads tried to get us to buy their black market PTV t-shirts (my favorite was when one of them dropped one on the ground, accidentally stepped on it, and then waved it around in the air, hollering about how great the quality was). The wait in line was mostly OK, the group of kids in front of us were relatively tame, but the one had her mom with her and she got increasingly more showboat-y as the wait progressed. She kept trying to be all self-deprecating about her age (39) but then tried to make up for it by bragging relentlessly about all the shows she’s been to. (BLACK SABBATH. BREAKING BENJAMIN. THE VERY FIRST WARPED TOUR EVER OMG.) And then she was like, “CLUTCH IS SUPPOSED TO BE COMING HERE SOON I WOULD LIKE TO GO SEE CLUTCH I THINK THEY’RE PLAYING HERE NEXT WEEK CLUTCH CLUTCH CLUTCH” and it was like, “OK WE GET IT YOU LIKE CLUTCH.” Personally, I don’t like Clutch, and this bitch was making me dislike them even more. She just kept going on and on about all these old concerts and how she was probably dating herself, because you know, being “old” means you have to go to great lengths to prove that you still like music.

So I kept trying to raise Henry’s arm in the air while obnoxiously crying out, “Judas Priest! Ted Nugent! CHEAP TRICK!” For some reason, this just put Henry in an even worse mood and then he looked like this:

I was going to launch into a rant here about age versus music and why does it even have to be a factor, but I’m trying to live a stress-free life and that topic just makes me angry. I’m sure Henry could offer up a transcript of the rant he had to listen to before the show at Rivertown, if anyone is interested. (Kidding. Henry doesn’t listen to me when I speak.)

Bottom line is you’re never “too old” to be a fan of a band. If I didn’t go to a show because I was afraid of being the oldest one there, or having people mistake me for a chaperone/mom, that would just be a shame. And also, I would probably not go to a LOT of shows then since most bands I like have a young fan base.

Once the doors opened, the line moved relatively quickly. Henry and I got separated at the security checkpoint, and he was extremely dismayed to learn that I made it in first and claimed a prime spot against a railing. I thought this was a Good Thing since he didn’t want to go all the way onto the floor with the children (plus, I wanted to be able to see while still being in the midst of things, so this spot was seriously the best of both worlds because we were raised up just high enough that no one could stand in front of me on the floor and block my view); apparently though Henry had hoped that we could go upstairs with the parents in the balcony. I just laughed, because no. I told him he was welcome to go up there alone, but he always gets scared when I get faux-courteous. Who knows if he’ll get castrated later for taking me up on my trick offer.

Now is the part where I type words about the bands that were there, so you are welcome to peace out.

I. PVRIS

I am notoriously snobby when it comes to girl singers. I always have to laugh when Scene Fems get all up in arms that there are “never enough” females on Warped Tour because why flood the tour with mediocre music? PVRIS is one of the few bands with a female lead that has actually gotten my attention in awhile. I hesitate to describe them as dark electro-pop, because that usually calls to mind something of a more Goth nature, but to me they sound like a glorious collision of synthpop and post-hardcore. They are SO YOUNG and started making waves in the scene before they even had an album out. I like that they’re bringing some estrogen to Rise Records, and I also like that they have essentially been groomed by Blake and Sierra from Versa. It shows.  Lynn’s voice is just what this scene has been missing. Ugh, they are wonderful. This is why I can’t write about music for a living, because it’s all HEART EYES and UGH YOU GUYS THEY PENETRATE MY SOUL. Can’t turn off how I feel, ever.

This is basically the same way I felt when I first heard Paramore back in the day. “Fuck yes, a singer-broad who doesn’t annoy me!” I can’t wait to go see them 934790374 more times. They remind me a little of The Flir, and I fucking loved The Flir so much but then they just kind of….stopped.

Henry said they were “OK” but that “the singing needs worked on.” You can catch Henry on the next season of The Voice, by the way.

I think I’ve posted about them on here before, but here is an acoustic video in case you felt the urge to put something in your hearing orifices.

II. Mallory Knox

They’re from England and this was their first time on tour in the States. So that was cool. I don’t know what else to say. It’s not that I didn’t like them, but my attention was definitely elsewhere during their set. The Penguin game had started and I was frantically checking my phone for updates, etc. and then I saw on Instagram that EMAROSA announced they’re playing Warped Tour this summer so I was basically peaced out of Mallory Knox’s set from that moment on….until I heard what I was sure was about to be a Whitesnake cover and then realized that the singer just kind of sounded like David Coverdale. I shared this observation with Henry, who just frowned and shook his head no.

Maybe I need to listen to them some more, I don’t know.

III. Sleeping With Sirens

Sleeping with Sirens is kind of THE BOY BAND of this scene. Their opening video montage even spoofed off of that, actually. So when Mallory Knox was over and the SWS backdrop slowly began to rise, the girls in the crowd went ballistic. “Take it easy!” Henry spat disgustedly into the general area. “They’re not even coming out yet!”

Truth: I was disappointed when this tour was initially announced and I saw that Pierce the Veil was co-headlining with SWS. My feelings toward SWS have really run the gamut over the years. When I first heard If I’m James Dean, You’re Audrey Hepburn back in 2010, I was all a-smit with Kellin Quinn. Granted, he looked like a little scene fetus, but that didn’t change the fact that this was going to be The Song that Henry and I fake-danced together at our imaginary never-wedding. I even considered having it choreographed. I used to walk the high school track by my house after work some times and I would listen to that song on repeat, with complete and utter disregard to the rest of the album.

But then I saw them live and was like, “Oh.” At first I thought it was just because it was Warped Tour. Sometimes bands just sound better inside grimy venues at night, than on some tiny stage in a parking lot, you know?

But then I saw them several more times, in a variety of settings.

He cannot sing live, you guys. I don’t know what it is. Acoustic, he’s not too bad. But with a full band, up on a stage, it’s like, “No, go home.”

However, I was shocked this time around because he didn’t sound as terrible as he normally does! But then Henry pointed out it was because they turned up everything else. And then I was like, “Oh. That makes sense. Never mind.”

Ew, agreeing with Henry makes me feel itchy.

But this is not to say that the rest of the band sucks! They are actually pretty wonderful have always saved the show every time I’ve seen them. They’ve definitely jumped on the fast track to fame, so their shows are pretty spectacular on the ol’ eyeballs nowadays. It’s all kind of lights and videos and streamers — you know, things to distract you from the vocal flaws!

OK FINE, I totally wear Kellin’s clothing line and keep a picture of him on desk.

The one huge highlight for me was seeing Nick Martin, who assumed the role as their guitarist after Jesse Lawson left in 2013. I LOVE NICK MARTIN SO MUCH! Back in the day, I used to play one of his old Underminded songs over and over in the car and sigh dreamily to Henry, “Isn’t he the best screamer ever?” Of course Henry answered with a frown.

I met Nick in 2009 when he was on Craig Owens’ solo tour. He is such a fucking great guy. He was also in Isles and Glaciers and then Craig Owens post-Chiodos “I’LL JUST START MY OWN BAND!” band D.R.U.G.S. But then Craig went back with Chiodos and basically left the rest of D.R.U.G.S. hanging. So it’s nice to see that Nick got himself a gig with a successful band, playing for bigger than crowds that he was with D.R.U.G.S.

They played “…James Dean” and I was trying to get Henry into it but he had the “Not enough beer in the world” expression on his face.

Streamer Chicken.

IV. Pierce the Veil

I don’t even know what to say about Pierce the Veil that I haven’t already. They have been firmly planted inside my heart for the last eight years and they inspire me so much. I can honestly say that I have never been to a bad PTV show (except maybe the one in Buffalo but that wasn’t their fault) and it’s pretty expected at this point that I am going to be emotionally ravaged for the next few weeks after. So I’m going to be really blunt and say that I don’t think I can write much about it, other than to say it was an amazing night that made me want to paint and write and potentially send an email that maybe I shouldn’t.

They played “Caraphernalia” and I almost chewed off my lip because THAT SONG. So much meaning. What’s so good about picking up the pieces, indeed.

JAIME!!!!!!! Henry was pissed that he missed this because he was off buying me a shirt, LOLforever.

“One of these days, that will be me up there, having my face sung to by Vic Fuentes,” Henry dreams.

Kellin Quinn came out to close out the show by singing “King For a Day” with PTV, which was expected. And good. I’m so happy to see Pierce the Veil playing for so many people now, but I selfishly long for the days when I was standing right in front of the speakers at a skate park in Buffalo with only about 100 kids behind me.

LOOK AT WHAT A LITTLE BABE HE WAS IN 2008!

Really, what I miss the most is hearing the old stuff. One of the last times I saw them, they played “Yeah Boy” but it seems like it’s so rare. I would kill to hear some stuff from “A Flair for the Dramatic” because to me, that is their best. I was whining about it to Terri (thank god for Terri!) and she said maybe they’ll do a 10th anniversary tour for it like so many other bands have been doing lately. I would fucking die if that happened.

***

After the show, we were briskly walking through the frigid night to the trolley station, when Henry said, “Tony cut his hair, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know!” I cried, because sorry, bro, I’m there for the music not the looks.

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. He cut his hair, definitely.”

Oh OK, Henry. For someone who doesn’t care about this shit, he sure has a thing for the post-hardcore coif scene. If Craig Owens from Chiodos even uses the tiniest spritz of Sun-In, Henry is all over that shit.

“Craig’s hair is lighter,” he’s been known to scream in the middle of shows.

So now I’m convinced that Henry dreams about being some kind of Scene Barber, snipping Vic Fuentes’s split ends, pomading Andy Biersack’s pompadour, freshening Jonny Craig’s fade and “accidentally” nicking his jugular. OMG we can call him Scene-y Todd!

Apologies for the shitty ‘shopping on this but I did this quickly on my lunch break at work and had to use PAINT. Ugh!