Shit. Before we even finished breakfast (that’s a word with which the Econo Lodge takes great liberties), I was already feeling that panicky “today is the last day” sensation percolating in my gut.

(I’m sure Henry was experiencing very different feelings. His was probably more of a giddy countdown.)

We accidentally found a fly-by-night event parking lot on our way to Humboldt Park the day before, so Henry decided THE HELL WITH UBER, we’re going to entrust our car with these people that are wearing neon construction vests so they must be legit.

It took us three days to figure out there was an actual area where we were supposed to be waiting for our stupid Uber rides. 

The sketchy parking lot cost the same as a one-way trip with Uber, and it wasn’t my money Henry was using anyway, so what did I care. All I knew was that we were only two blocks away from my homeland and I couldn’t wait to get there.

And stand in line for an hour. Because even by the third day, the gatekeepers hadn’t gotten their shit together.

All three days, we were lucky to not get stuck by any assholes, at least. The guy in front of us, whom I dubbed Dwight Hader, because he reminded me of Dwight Schrute and Bill Hader, was there by himself. “I’m just here for Patti Smith and The Cure,” he said nervously. “Basically, I’m going to get all the way to the front of the stage for The Cure,” he told us of his Riot Fest plans.

“Were you here the other days, too? What was it like? What’s the food like? Is it expensive?”

“Do you think I’ll be able to take in my water?” he asked anyone who was listening.

He was very concerned with his unopened water bottle.

Would it be confiscated? Did he have to drink it all now? Because he wasn’t thirsty yet. He wanted that water for later, when he was raging to Patti Smith. BECAUSE THE NIGHT BELONGS TO WATER.

The girl behind me pointed out that empty water bottles were allowed in, because there were refilling stations. But she and I both said that probably an unopened bottle wasn’t a good idea. The girl’s boyfriend was like, “Eh, just do it. Smuggling in water is so punk rock, man.” And Henry was like “IDGAF what this kid does.”

Meanwhile, the couple behind me were talking about all of the ska bands that they had seen so far at Riot Fest and I was so thankful that I wasn’t there with them because ska is pretty much the only music genre that I flat-out dislike. There isn’t one ska band that’s redeemable to me. I’m sorry if you’re a ska fan. I promise we can still be friends. Just get those fucking trumpets out of my face. I DON’T EVEN LIKE THE JAMAICA SKA SCENE IN BACK TO THE BEACH AND THAT IS LIKE MY FAVORITE MOVIE.

1. Whispering, “It’ll be alright, Water Bottle. We’ll figure something out.” 2. Googling “will I be detained for bringing an unopened water bottle into Riot Fest?” // “ways to make a water bottle in your pants look like a medical condition that security guards won’t ask about.” // “smuggling contraband into a music festival- WWJD?”

MENZINGERS

• TheMenzingers were due to start playing a few minutes after the gates finally opened. (DwightHader and his unopened bottle of water made it through unscathed!) But we had enough time to hit up one oftheRiotFestmerch booths soIcouldfinallybuy the hoodie I wanted,whichofcoursewas sold out so I got all shitty about and ended up buying a t-shirt that I didn’t even want and then I proceeded to bitch about it on the way to the Roots Stage so Henry was like OMG I WILL FIND YOU A FUCKING HOODIE but apparently he said this to himself because I had no idea where he had gone off to, leaving me to stand alone with strangers by the stage. Then he returnedrightbeforetheMenzingers came out, and he had the hoodie I wanted, but then I was still mad because now I had a t-shirt and hoodie in the same design and that seemed so unnecessary so I threw another tantrum and then Henry was like I AM GOING TO COLD COCK  YOU but instead of doing that, he grabbed the t-shirt from me and stormed off and then the show started so I hadtowatchtheMenzingers by myself.
  • This was surprisingly the only time we fought all weekend.
  • I hated not knowing where he went/what he was doing/if he was coming back.
    • Every time I glanced behind me, I thought I saw him, but it was always one of the other 8700 guys wearing a blue flannel that day.
• Even though I was quietly stewing over this hoodie/t-shirt emergency, I still found some room in my head and heart to enjoy the Menzingers. I only have a very base knowledge of them, thanks to my friend Terri, and since I know how much she loves them, I made a point to check them out. It was a good way to start the last day, because they got everyone pumped right out of the gates.
• I texted Terri the lyrics to the one song they played that I really liked, and she was like, “That’s from their new album. That song is so emo!” Which totally explains why I liked it!
• After their set ended,Ipanic-strickenly made my way through a moving wall of people, desperately looking for Henry, near tears (I HATE FEELING LOST), but then he grabbed my arm and I suddenly forgot that I was in the middle of hating him because YAY I’M NOT LOST ANYMORE!
  • “You were never lost,” he sighed. “I knewwhereyouwerethe whole time.”
    • In case you were wondering, Henry apparently exchanged the t-shirt for an XS for Chooch, which made me mad all over again because why the fuck would Chooch want a t-shirt from a festival he didn’t go to?! And to back this up, when we gave it to him, he was like, “Ok….?” and then right away noticed that one of the bands on the back of the shirt was Pity Sex, so then he was like, “REALLY, MOMMY?! REALLY?!” all annoyed and exasperated.

LAURA STEVENSON

• There was nothing on Sunday’s line-up that was OMG URGENT for me to see until Billy Bragg played around 2.
  • To Henry this meant: YAY LET’S GO FIND A TREE TO SIT UNDER FOR A FEW HOURS AND CLOSE OUR EYES AND HOPEFULLY DIE.
  • To me this meant: Let’s wander around and check out the other stages! We might find our new favorite band!
• Of course, my plan won out and that is how we wound up at the Rise Stage in time for Laura Stevenson, who has an accordion player and is just the most adorable thing I saw on stage all weekend. I’m notoriously picky when it comes to girl singers, but her style was kind of old Tegan andSarameetsSherriDuPreefromEisley, in a way. I immediately adored her.
  • Especially when she pretty much announced every song as, “OK, this is a sad one.”
    • I love sad music.
    • Her music was the deceiving kind of sad though, where it sounds happy and upbeat but, no.
• Laura’s between-song-banter was painfully awkward at times, which endeared her to me even more.
• Fuck it, go listen to her on Spotify and then buy her albums!

Henry’s mad because we were kind of matching. Also, I think this was right before La Dispute and he hates La Dispute.

THE FRONT BOTTOMS

• Right after Laura was done playing, The Front Bottoms came on the adjacent Revolt Stage. This is another band that I have read and heard a lot about but just never bothered checking out. Since we still had a little bit of time to kill and the stage they were playing on was conveniently located near the one Billy Bragg would later be playing on, I dragged Henry through droves of lost locust-people and claimed a prime spot near the side of the stage.
• And then they came on and proceeded to captivate us for their entire 30 minute set.
  • If you can win me over with your stage presence alone, then you’re doing it right.
  • If your music is good enough to back up your stage presence, then you’re golden.
• I thought Henry hated them, but he admitted later that they were a high point for him.
  • Last week, I came home from meeting my friend Katrina for coffee, and Henry was flat out listening to them on xbox music. “SO WHAT?!” he cried in defense, like his mom just busted him watching tranny bukakke.
• They reminded me a little bit of Never Shout Never for grown-ups, so I wondered if Chooch would like them too. Spoiler: he does.
• My favorite part was when Tiny Moving Parts stormed the stage and started fucking with them. I LOVE IT WHEN BANDS ARE FRIENDS WITH EACH OTHER.

BILLY BRAGG

• WhenIsawBillywas listed on the line-up, I died a little of excitement. This guy is a living legend and I made Henry get right up front for him.
  • We were surrounded by a lot of Older People so I thought Henry would feel safe.
• In high school, I dated this real piece of shit. Pretty much everyone called him Psycho Mike, because well, that’s what you call a guy who intentionally sets his best friend’s house on fire (thankfully,whilethe whole family was on vacation, but still) all over a video game.
  • Yes, I knew this going in to things, but warning labels don’t ever deter me.
  • Anyway, Psycho Mike and I didn’t have much in common, musically. I would cringe when he would play Anal Cunt in his car and even though I bought him the Misfits boxed set for Valentine’s Day one year, I made it clear that I didn’t want to listen to it. We would meet in the middle with classic rock mostly, but occasionally he would play things for me that I actually liked. Some of those things were: Neutral Milk Hotel, Hayden, and Billy Bragg.
• Billy Bragg is a British folk/punk singer-songwriter who sings a lot about politics, which usually isn’t my cup of tea, but there is just something about him that has always appealed to me. I thought Henry would be all about him too, since Billy is known to sing in favor of all those blue-collared blokes like Henry. But Henry was just like “eh” when I asked him if he enjoyed it, which basically means Henry is clearly a fascist.

 Henry not understanding why everyone was all FUCK YES during Billy Bragg.

• My favorite Billy Bragg songs are “Must I Paint You a Picture,” “St. Swithin’s Day,” “She’s Got a New Spell,” “The Man in the Iron Mask” and “A New England,” none of which he played, but he did play my ALL TIME FAVORITE which is “The Milkman of Human Kindness” and the 17-year-old slut-who-was-fucking-around-with-a-psychopath-in-1996 in me was so stoked.
• Billy also made me super stoked about Scotland, which I had otherwise not really thought about at all because it’s basically me and my music under a rock. But on this day, I was like, “YAYSCOTLAND! GO GET ‘EM!” And then suddenly I understoodwhysomemenhad been walking around Humboldt Park all weekend in kilts and carrying Scottish flags.
  • I catch on quick.

• Might sound extreme, but getting to see Billy Bragg live was a milestone for me. I have literally waited half my life! This man is a living legend. Familiarize yourself with him.

TINY MOVING PARTS

• On our way to the Rock Stage, immediately after Billy Bragg, we got to catch a little bit of Tiny Moving Parts.
• Henry said he doesn’t remember this happening at all. I think he might have been buying more cheese-on-sticks and beer?
• TMP iskindoflikeneo-emo I guess? It’s definitely a sound that I really adore. And they are really energetic and passionate on stage, which is what made me stop mid-trek to the Rock Stage and say to Henry, “They are calling to me.”
  • I like them way more live than listening to them, say, while driving to the dentist or writing in my blog.

LA DISPUTE

A rare moment where Henry got to sit for a few minutes until the girl next to him annoyed him to such extreme levels that he suddenly didn’t care about resting his weary joints anymore and actually stood up and moved. And no, surprisingly, that girl wasn’t me. 

• I let Henry stand far away for La Dispute because he can’t stand them. But I was like, “See ya, sucker” and elbowed my way through the crowd along the side of the stage until I was nearly to the front. I stopped right before I hit prime crowd-surfing / circle pit real estate. Sometimes, I have to remind myself that deep down, I have some fragments of the “Sensible Mom” gene and I remember to keep myself safe.
  • Otherwise, I just feel like I would be such a great candidate for Idiot Who Broke Her Neck At a Show.
• Have you ever listened to La Dispute? They are a part of a music genre that I am in love with. Like, if I could mold it into a penis, I would fuck it. It’s technically post-hardcore, and Jordan Dreyer shouts and barks the lyrics with so much emotion, that it’s, for me, the equivalent of listening to some kind of passionate Sunday sermon. Their songs tell stories that make the hair grow erect on my arms and I spent most of the time standing there with my eyes closed and, at times, wishing I had a wall in front of me to punch. There’s an urgency to the music and the way the vocals are delivered that make me feel uncontrollably aggressive. And then….sad.
• When they played “King Park,” we all went fucking nuts.  This song is about a shooting and all of the elements and emotions surrounding it, and it is raw, devastating, angry, sad, honest—this song is REAL LIFE. The way they build up to the crescendo of this song, OMFG—it’s like climaxing for real.  Jordan started hoarsely shouting “Can I still get into Heaven if I kill myself?” and that’s when I realized that I had been crying through the whole fucking thing.

• “Wasn’t that fucking amazing!?” I cried afterward, reunited with Henry. “Not really,” he mumbled.
• I walked away feeling like I could start a revolution. Or at the very least, make a REALLY GOOD POSTER about MAYBE starting a revolution.

TEGAN AND SARA

• I first saw Tegan and Sara in the year 2000 at now-defunct club in Pittsburgh called Rosebud. I didn’t know anything about them but my friend Wonka was like, “I heard one of their songs on WYEP. PLEASE GO WITH ME!” Wonka was my prime concert-buddy back then, and we went to tons of shows where we barely knew who we were seeing, plus I was buying my ticket with my AmEx that my mom paid for, so why not? It was us and maybe 40 other people and I think Tegan and Sara walked away with all of our hearts that night. They were VERY different than they are now, way more stripped down, way less pop. But their stage banter was just as on point. We got to meet them that night and I still look at that picture, of these twins who look so different now, and I laugh because I remember saying to Wonka, “Holy shit, these girls are going to explode!”
• They were playing on the main stage at Riot Fest to some tens of thousands of people, so I’d say that they definitely exploded.
• I didn’t want to get too close because I knew we were going to have to split before they were done, and I didn’t want to make our exit any more difficult than it needed to be, so we stood pretty far away. The problem with that is that the further away you stand, the more likely you are to surround yourself with people who couldn’t give a fuck what band is playing, they’re just going to stand there and brag about what college their daughter is going to. Sometimes old people are WAY WORSE at shows than young people.
• The first time Henry saw Tegan and Sara was with me in 2002/2003 at the Hard Rock Cafe. He didn’t know anything about them but it didn’t take him long to realize that he was a man in a roomful of lesbians. At one point, he tried to go to the bathroom, but a girl with a shaved, rainbow-tattooed head was blocking his way (not even menacingly! she didn’t know she was in his way!), so he turned around and came back. I think about this EVERY TIME I hear a Tegan and Sara song. GOOD TIMES.
• And before you’re like “Tegan and Sara are so Top 40,” please watch this video:

• Sure, they’re mainstream now but I will always believe that they still have a little bit of that quaint singer-songwriter ethic that they did when they were teenagers. I just love them.

Never had time to play Riot Putt. :( Or go through the Zombie Contamination Unit. Or ride any rides. Or see the sideshows. TOO MANY BANDS. 

 MINERAL

• We cut out of Tegan and Sara in order to run back to the Rock Stage just in time to see Mineral, who have recently gone on tour for the first time in 17 years. I’m so happy Riot Fest was on the super-shortlist of shows they were doing, because god knows Pittsburgh was nowhere on that list.
• MineralisstraightupEMO.
  • I fucking love emo.
• Mineral broke up in 1997, before I ever had a chance to see them. The singer went on to form The Gloria Record, another band that I fucking loved so hard but never got to see live. Henry claims he has no absolutely no recollection of a band called The Gloria Record and I was like “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID, I LISTENED TO ONE OF THEIR ALBUMS COMPULSIVELY IN 2005!” Then I even played him my favorite song (“Good Morning, Providence” — if you look at my Spotify sidebar, it’s actually the second song listed in my “Perennial Favorites” playlist, COME ON HENRY) and he was like, “Nope. Don’t know it.” That man is a master of tuning things out.
• However, Henry admitted that Mineral was “pretty good.” The whole time I was just standing there in awe, thinking of how grateful I was to get to see them after all this time. So grateful that I almost wrote an emo poem about it.

PATTI SMITH

• After Mineral, we decided that we should probably make our way back to the Riot Stage because if we waited too close to The Cure’s start time, we would never be able to get close enough. Patti Smith was playing at the time, so we pushed our way through the outskirts of a crowd of aging hippies screaming along to “Because the Night.”
• If it wasn’t for the sake of the Cure, I never have would have stopped to watch her. I’m sure that makes me something of a heathen to a lot of people. I can definitely respect her! I understand the mark she’s left on not only the music industry but also the political landscape. She’s a living, breathing legacy. I get it. And while it’s not particularly my thing, I am definitely glad that I can say “I saw Patti Smith.”
• She is old as shit but fuck if she wasn’t rocking the shit out of that stage.
• There were men older than Henry standing around us who were screaming “PATTI!!!” so fiercely, I feared that they were going to hemorrhage.
• In between every song, Patti would stand on her soapbox and promise us that we can change the world. “PEOPLE HAVE THE POWER!” she kept shouting and everyone screamed so loudly that they turned into South Park Canadians.
• By the time her set was over, I definitely didn’t feel like I could change the world, but I would have liked to have changed into a pair of more comfortable shoes.

I’m going to end this here because I’ve been writing it for four days and I want The Cure to have their own post. Because they’re the motherfucking Cure.

If you’ve read any of these word-dumps, I am eternally grateful (and extremely shocked)!

• If you have never been to Chicago, make sure you research the area your staying in. So when you come back the first night someones not jacked up against a police car outside your hotel room window.

• Make sure you take the proper clothing, ie: Boots, jacket so you don’t have to run out and buy them in a hurry.
• Find a way to and from the festival that doesn’t put your life in danger by seedy so called “Uber” drivers, only to find out on the last day you could have drove and parked 100 yards from where you needed to go.
• Learn to dodge and weave between people with minimal damage to you and others.
• Bring lots of cash, for the girlfriend that wants everything.
• Bring an appetite, the food is awesome.
• Do not be so quick to say “yes we can go” before you actually look in to what riot fest is.

BANDS I DISLIKED (hate is a pretty strong word)

Pianos Become the Teeth – not my style. Like I have a style.
La Dispute – they go along with the other one.

I didn’t dislike as much as Erin thought I did. Maybe it’s just more that I didn’t want to be there.

FAVORITE PARTS:
Seeing the Cure.

IF MY MOM ASKED WHAT IT WAS LIKE, I WOULD TELL HER:
Nothing. She wouldn’t understand.

WOULD I GO AGAIN NEXT YEAR:
I don’t know yet.

THOUGHTS ON ANTHONY GREEN:
I don’t have any.

WARPED TOUR VS RIOT FEST:
Neither.

BANDS I WANTED TO SEE BUT DIDN’T GET TO:
Cheap Trick.

To summarize, all and all it wasn’t a bad three days, the rain, mud and cold didn’t help me like Riot fest. Though knowing that Erin was the happiest shes been in awhile was well worth it. Will i do it again, too soon to say. I’m sure by January or whenever presale starts ill start getting hounded.

Even though Saturday was all sunshine and blue skies, Henry and I mustered up enough Smarts to make an early morning run back to Target to buy boots. Good call! Because while it never rained again that weekend, it also never warmed up enough for the mud to dry. There were sludgy, thick pits of mud all around the stages and I got great pleasure out of purposely stomping my way through them because I HAVE BOOTS NOW, MUD-BITCHES.

The mud was so dangerous in some spots that there was an actual struggle to unstuck my foot, and I wondered if Henry would cry for me like Atreyu for Artax if the mud ultimately enveloped my entire person.

Anyway, enough about the mud. Let’s talk about THE BANDS.

frnkiero & the Cellabration

• Just like the previous day, the goddamn gates didn’t open on time so we barely made it to the Rock Stage in time for frnkiero. This was one of the first of many mile-runs Henry and I made that day.
• If you’re up on your current music events, you might know that Frank Iero was in My Chemical Romance (RIP) and the Cellabration is his current project.
• There were three guys standing next to me. One was standing slightly in front of the others, and the other two were like FUCK YES THIS IS GREAT WOO!!! And then one of them leaned forward and yelled to their friend, “GOOD CALL ON THIS ONE, MAN!” And that guy smiled and nodded, as if to say, “Yeah, I know, right” and it made me smile to witness this beautiful example of one friend introducing his other friends to glorious new music. But just as quickly as I felt happy, I BECAME ENRAGED and thought aboutall of the times HENRY HAS NEVER THANKED ME FOR DOING SUCH THINGS.
  • And before you think smugly to yourself, “HAHA that’s because you don’t have any good music to share” LET ME STOP YOU RIGHT THERE because there have many occasions when I have been like HERE LISTEN TO THIS to one of my poor friends and then they’re like “Wow, hey. That’s actually good” and I’m like “I KNOW, BECAUSE THAT’S NOT ME SINGING.”
    • Needless to say, Henry was not exactlywow’d by Frank’scellabrating.
      • Though, he DID like My Chemical Romance back in the day.
• You guys, while I really enjoyed this set and talked at length to Henry about how that was such a great way to start the day, I found something out today that, had I known this prior to 11:30AM that morning, would have changed everything: one of the other bands playing at the same time asFrankIero, was a band that I honestly didn’t even give a second thought and for some reason was one of the few bands I hadn’t heard of that I didn’t bother researching. And that band is the Pizza Underground, a parody band of the Velvet Underground that changesall of the lyricsto be pizza-related. Which OK, that in and of itself is pretty fucking fantastic, because pizza. And one of the members even drums on an empty pizza box. But guys,MACAULEYCAULKIN is in this band and I had no fucking idea until this morning and now I feel like I failed at Riot Fest.
  • BECAUSE I DID. F-, ERIN RACHELLE KELLY!

The sky was so goddamn beautiful on Saturday. Even Henry was like, “Yeah” when I said, “THE SKY IS SO BEAUTIFUL!”

RX BANDITS

• Somehow, I have managed to never see the Rx Bandits a single time in their 18 years of existence. I know. Henry was thankful that they played on the same stage as frnkiero, so after that set, we had about 30 minutes to causally mill about the area. I think maybe we got beer. It was noon by then, so it was OK.
• Made it back before they started and got a good spot in the front, but a little over to the side, which is my favorite place to be because you just never know what kind of crazy motherfuckers are going to be in the pit. I mean, my paranoia is off the charts when I’m in a crowd of people, and yours should be too. PEOPLE BE CRAZY.
• There were a lot of older people gathered around for Rx Bandits, so I thought that would make Henry unclench a little, but he was still frowning every time I turned around. So…
  • One of those older people was a man standing next to me, who was telling one of the security guys his idea for a zombie movie about zombies on crystal meth and then to me, he turned and screamed, “ISN’T THAT A GOOD IDEA?!” and I was like “Wow. I’m sure you don’t have any experience at all with crystal meth.”
• Rx Bandits were pretty dreamy, you guys. Why can’t Henry be like them.
  • The Sound of Animals Fighting ismore or less Rx Bandits and Anthony Green, so Anthony potentially could have performed THREE TIMES that weekend. JUST SAYING, RIOT FEST.
    • God, I might have died if that had happened though.

• Of course my favorite part though was when one of the Riot Fest staff delivered pizza to the line of security and then they all stood around, having a casual pizza party while Rx Bandits provided the soundtrack. I couldn’t stop laughing to myself about this and then later, Henry mentioned something about it and I was like “I KNOW I TOTALLY TOOK A PICTURE!” and he was like, “Yeah, I figured.”

THE DANDY WARHOLS

• Another band I’ve never seen live. Riot Fest, I’m having your babies.
• Their set started at 2:15 and this was one of the last times the main stage was this sparsely populated.
• To entice Henry, I said, “MAYBE THEY WILL PLAY THE VERONICA MARS SONG” because these are the termsin which you need to put music to get Henry mildly interested.
  • Of course they played THE VERONICA MARS SONG, but Henry just smirked.
  • Please check out the video at the end of this post for a peek at two tutu’d guys trying to get people to play fetch with them while THE VERONICA MARS SONG plays in the background.

By the afternoon, it was THIS CROWDED ^^^.

Can you imagine if the Wacky Worm had been there? The Wacky Worm + three days of amazing music might actually be the closest I’ll come to being raptured. Oh well.

TELEVISION

• Here is where the scheduling started to get dicey. I wanted to see Television and City & Colour, but they were almost playing on top of each other. Television won out, because hello—Television. Pretty legendary band. Unfortunately, by the time we waded through the exponentially-thickening crowd, we got to enjoy* two entire songs before I looked at the time and realized we had approx. 15 minutes to make our way from the Rise Stage to the Rock Stage, and if you read my “Riot Feast” post, you might remember that I mentioned that these two stages are a good mile a part. Which is whatever, if you’re strolling along a path in the middle of the mountains. But when you’re trying to part an ocean of human bodies swimming upstream, that mile feels like for-ev-er.
  • *And by “enjoy,” I mean that I only vaguely remember standing there and looking at a group of grizzled Brits on a stage because my anxiety was still through the roof from all of the STRANGER DANGER I had after a thousand people touched me when I was pushing my way to the Rise Stage.
• I hope I get a Television do-over someday. :(
• “Marquee Moon” though:

SAOSIN

• But you guys: Saosin.
• Halfway to the Rock Stage, I checked the time on my phone and literally screamed, “FUCKKKK!!!!” and then I dropped my dead weight (i.e. Henry) and ran the rest of the way.
  • Henry claims he “wasn’t concerned” because I was wearing a bright orange Epitaph backpack so he always knew where I was in the crowd.
• Got a great leg workout as soon as I reached the sludge-like mud-pit making up the perimeter of the Rock Stage. I can only imagine how graceful I looked.
• Can we talk about Saosin for a second? Great. So this was my first encounter with Anthony Green, back in 2004. I never got to see them live though, because shortly after I started listening to them, Anthony left the band and went back home to form Circa Survive. Saosin went on to get a new singer (Cove Reber; I was “meh” about new Saosin) but then they kind of stagnated since 2010. ANYWAY, 2014 is the 10th anniversary of their EP with Anthony Green, and so they reunited to do a handful of shows last spring (NONE OF WHICH CAME TO PITTSBURGH). When I saw that they were playing Riot Fest, I gave Henry the most incredibly pathetic dog eyes I could muster, lower lip practically usurping my chin that’s how far down it hung. And that’s the thing about Henry, you guys. He might not like this shit, but he knows when things are A Big Deal.
• While waiting for them to come out, I made friends with the most delightful gay boy whose name I never asked for because who cares. I’m going to go ahead and guess that he was 20? 21? He was super adorable and his Aztec cardigan looked so nice and warm and he was drinking some sugary cocktail from a bright pink plastic cup and we expressed mutual sentiments about Anthony Green’s beautiful face even though I was mostly there because I love the music but PEER PRESSURE.
• And thenSaosin came out and everyone just went fucking nuts because whoever would have thought that Anthony would ever be on a stage with them again? There was nomudding this time around, but he did antagonize the FUCK out of the crowd which had security so goddamn pissed off. “I’ll give $3,000 to anyone who can make it up on stage. These guys are BORED down here,” Anthony said, waving his arm toward security. so there were bodies flying over the barricade left and right and one of the older security guys looked like he was about to ‘roid rage.
  • My favorite part was when some kid was pulled over the barricade and directed to go off to the side, but then he turned around real quick and faked like he was going to try and make a run for it but then started laughing and held up his hands in surrender. All of the security bros were cracking up, but their leader, the older one, looked like his head was going to pop off his shoulders. And then one of the other guys pointed at him and called him a pussy and I honestly thought they were all going to get fired right there. That security guy was PISSED.
  • Toward the end of the set, Anthony upped the ante to $10,000 to anyone who made it on stage and hugged him.
• “I WANT HIM TO SIT ON MY FACE!” my little gay friend turned around and screamed at me and I was all like “YEAH ME TOO I HOPE YOU WON’T STOP TALKING TO ME IF YOU FIND OUT I’M AN OLD LADY!”
• I was just a little to the right of whoever recorded this:

• The crowd EXPLODED during “Seven Years” and I was 25 again.
  • Taking on seven years
    the holy ghost had left alone
    Test my arms, kick like crazy
    I’ve been trying way too long — AHHHHHH!!!!!!!
• I was so fucking pumped during this set, that I was actually trembling by the time it was over and I was excited to find Henry so I could squeal in his. “OMFG WASN’T IT AMAZING!?!??!?!” I cried when I found him standing a million yards away where there zero threat of anyone contaminating him with sonic euphoria. He was like, “I don’t know. No.” And then, “Anthony is a psychopath.”
• If you’re a Saosin fan, some kind gentleman recorded their whole set and it’s on YouTube. I’ve already watched it 3 times. (I know, such a low number for an obsessive bitch!)

DIE ANTWOORD

• Right after Saosin’s set, we had to run over to the Roots Stage for Afghan Whigs, which is adjacent to the main Riot Stage, where Die Antwoord was still playing. I was happy that we got to hear the last two songs, because while I’m not OMG DIE ANTWOORD, I can definitely get behind their exceptionally weird appeal.
• Die Antwoord is something that HENRY actually knew about before me. And he doesn’t even remember. But it was a few years ago and I can’t remember if I was coming home from work or what, but he was like YOU HAVE TO WATCH THIS VIDEO!! and it was for Enter the Ninja. We thought it was some kind of joke, so years later, when I found out that they had become something of an international sensation, at first I was like “WTF?” but then “Yeah…I can see that.”
• The aforementioned “Enter the Ninja” was their closing song and everyone was just going nuts. I’m glad we got to be there for that. Afterward, as everyone left the stage, you could still hear Yolandi making these weird video-game sound effects. And while that was still wafting away into the ether, a verrrrrry different band was starting their set on the Roots Stage in front of us….

AFGHAN WHIGS

• I was really stoked to see the Afghan Whigs. I’m not a super fan by any means, but their Gentleman album definitely got played a lot by me during a certain time in my life. They also bring back fond memories of trading mixtapes with my pen pals in the 90s, which is how I heard of them in the first place.
• Even with the sun shining so brightly on Humboldt Park, Greg Dulli made the atmosphere feel decidedly dark and tense. I loved it.
• What I didn’t lovewasthethreemiddle aged people reliving their youth and racking up nostalgia points in front of me. It was clear that at one point in their lives, maybe when they were in college in the late 80s, they were allFUCKYESAFGHANWHIGS. But on this day in 2014, they were more interested in mildly rocking back and forth and volleying banal conversation between them.Theoneladyhadlongclearly-dyed red hair which she kept whipping into my face every time she turned with force to tell her bitch-friend something definitely un-Afghan Whigs related. BITCH GO HOME AND WATCH THE VIEW.
  • I absolutely can’t stand people who go to shows and then talk through the whole thing. Like, why. Stay home and listen to them on your fucking Bose speakers BECAUSE I KNOW YOU HAVE THOSE.
• They’re actually playing here tonight in Pittsburgh but I sadly already have tickets to a different show. Otherwise, I would totally go see them again.
• I just asked Henry what he thought of the Afghan Whigs and he mumbled “I don’t know.”
• Fun fact: About 10 years ago, I had a huge fight with Christina because she lives in Cincinnati and that’s where the Afghan Whigs are from but she was like, “I don’t know who that is” so I screamed, “THEN YOU’RE A FUCKING RETARD.” And then she cried and probably wrote a poem about it, which, now that I think about it, pretty much sums up our friendship.
  • Say Anything got sacrificed for this band, but I think I might be seeing them in December, so I don’t feel too guilty. I’M SORRY MAX BEMIS, UGH.

NOSTALGHIA

• On the way to Chicago, I had on the Riot Fest playlist on Spotify and there was one song that came on that made me feel like it was 1999 and I was a faux-goth all over again. I looked at my phone with a quickness and saw that it was Nostalghia. Then I quickly checked out the lineup and said, “Sorry Wu-Tang, I never liked you anyway” and that is how we ended up at one of the smaller stages, having some creepy bare-footed broad singing her strange blend of gypsy goth at us.
• I liked it when she screamed.
• This was one of the few times Henry said he liked something. Nostalghia booty shorts it is, then.

This is where I let Henry sit down for 10 minutes.

THE USED

• This band. This fucking band.Ican be doing so well and then I will hear “Blue and Yellow” or “I Caught Fire” or any fucking song by The Used and my heart feels like it’s bleeding literal tears. So my brain was like, “Erin, check the schedule. Find another band to see at that time.” And maybe I should have. I’ve seen The Used a shit ton of times, dating all the way back to the days when Bert stillpuked on stage. (And Henry hated them.)
  • I think this was the first band (among MANY) that Henry hated when we first got together, but this was also the first band that, years later, he admitted to finally liking. Sometimes the Henrys of the world can be swayed, you guys. It does happen.
• But, like a sucker, I trudged through the mud back to the Rock Stage, where Henry ditched me for quite some time because “the lines were long” for the porta potties which clearly means Henry was “shitting in the porta potty.” I was really mad that he left me all alone in the middle of a big scary crowd because these motherfuckers were ANNOYING AS FUCK. Seriously, we somehow picked the worst people in the world to stand near, but I couldn’t move until Henry came back because I was purposely standing right under a big flag-thing so he would be able to find his way back to me after giving his bowels the ol’ expunging.
• As soon as they started, it was like a foot to the gut. It was like my heart was the mom’s head from “Heavenly Creatures” and two dumb cunts (2005-era Erin and Christina) were murdering it with a brick. It was just like that.
• At one point, I turned around and planted my face in Henry’s stomach. “It hurts,” I said. “I know,” he answered and gave mesome kind of awkward “there there” head pat. But…I guess that’sto be expected when you lose your girl-virginity to The Used’s music.
  • It probably wouldn’t have hurt so bad if that Bandaid hadn’t recently been ripped off on my birthday with one innocent, well-meaning phone call. So fucking stupid.

• This will never be a good idea.
• There these dumb bitchesnexttousfor awhile who stood with their backs toward the stage and scream-talked the entire time,exceptwhenever Bert would yell, “WHERE ARE ALL THE HARDCORE USED FANS?!” they would all turn around and scream with their fists in the air. Henry was like, “Well, sometimes they were singing too, so they at least knew the words” and I was like “Oh, you WOULD defend them!” Fuck.
  • But then we moved to another open pocket within the huge crowd and the rest of the show was a much better experience, except of course for the fact that my heart was slowly breaking in two.
• Aside from the sadness, the only complaint I have is that Bert spent entirely too much time talking and trying to start sometype of a revolution.
  • But then they played “Box Full of Sharp Objects” and I was content.
• Afterward, I started to wonder: Do Bert and Gerard Way still hate each other? And if they do, does that mean the rest of the My Chemical Romance guys hate Bert? Did Bert and Frank Iero see each other at all that day, and if so, was it OK? And then the obvious parallels were drawn and I made myself stop thinking about broken, failed friendships. Because I didn’t come to Riot Fest to be sad, motherfuckers.

TAKING BACK SUNDAY

• No, I apparently came to Riot Fest to be COLD. By the time Taking Back Sunday came on at 8:45pm, my toes were so cold that they hurt. I kept trying to get Henry to put his arms around me so I could warm up but he is pretty much the worst at knowing how to transform into a coat. God, how I hate him.
• We were standing way off to the side for TBS and there were zero assholes around us, so it was a nice way to end the second night. They played all the songs I wanted to hear and I was close enough that I could still see Adam Lazarra swinging his mic, which has become a pretty iconic image over the years. He’s so goddamn good.
• Flaming Lips were playing at the same time, and from what I could tell afterward from the pictures, not much has changed since the last time I saw them so I don’t think we missed much, other than the power going out on their stage. Yikes. But yeah, Wayne is still climbing into his giant hamster ball.

I took this at Coachella in 2004.

• During their set, I started to think about how Riot Fest was like 6 Degrees ofEisley: Say Anything was there, and MaxBemisis married to SherriDuPree, but then New Found Glory was also there and Chad Gilbert was ALSO married to Sherri for a minute but now he’s dating Hayley Williams, and Max and Chad have publicly bashed each otherandfor awhile there was a pretty big Team Sherri/Team Hayley divide until Sherri finally was like “OMG guys stop. We don’t hate each other.” And then Adam from Taking BackSundaywas engaged toCHAUNTELLEDuPree but left her for a waitress. (Who, to be fair, he wound up marrying and I believe they’re still together, and nowChauntelleis married to a nice man.)
  • I was clearly a little delirious at that point.
    • I tried to tell Henry about all of this, but he was like *snore.*
      • Which is probably what you are doing too, assuming you even made it this far.

  And now I will leave you with a little video recap of Day 2:
  

Staying true to our chronic unpreparedness, Henry and I arrived at Humboldt Park Friday afternoon wearing newly-purchased raincoats from Target because we stupidly failed to account for a weather forecast that clearly stated 50 degrees and rain.

It started raining before we even made it to the main entrance. And then basically never let up. TGFRC.

The whole time we were walking to the entrance, my heart felt like it was going to explode. Henry kept telling me to slow down but I was like YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH! My god, I waited months for this day! I couldn’t wait a minute longer to be among my people. I was so giddy, it was scary.

The tickets said that the gates opened at 2pm but of course that was all a sack of lies. We were among the first 100 or so in line, so at least when they FINALLY opened up around 3pm, we pretty much had the run of the place until later in the day, when the less hardcore fans started showing up. There were already bands playing on 4 stages by time we collected our bearings and scoped out the layout. And admittedly had a fight because I was apparently looking at the map upside down and kept telling Henry he was wrong about everything. But then I realized that Circa Survive was playing on the Riot Stage (the main stage! Because they rule!) in less than a half hour, so I dragged him through mud and made him stand all the way in the front, which he hates. While we waited for Circa, we got to catch the last few Title Fight songs on the nearby Roots Stage, so that was nice.

It looked like this for a few hours until about a million more people showed up. Then it looked like this with about a million more people. And mud. Because the more people, the more mud, y’all. And guess what your girl was wearing?

TOMS.

Like an amateur! I don’t know what I was thinking. But I also wasn’t wearing socks so that was really great by the time the temperature dipped into the low 40s.

CIRCA SURVIVE

• This girl was standing in front of me while we were waiting for Circa to come on and she kept making intense eye contact with me and then raising her eyebrows and I was like WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, STOP. And of course, out of the estimated 160,000 fans in attendance that weekend, I saw her repeatedly.

• What a way to start off the weekend. A Circa Survive set in the cold, drizzling rain with a shit ton of people. It was fantastic and Anthony was stomping around the stage like your basic psychopath.
• During “The Difference Between Medicine and Poison Is the Dose,” Anthony jumped off the stage and started smearing mud on people’s faces and I was like OMG I WANTMUDDED BYANTHONY! But we were over too far. Even Henry KIND OF smiled when he saw what was going on. (Surprisingly, he actually watches even though he doesn’t like any of these bands. Although, he found some winners that weekend! We’ll get to that later.)
  • Here is a video that I pulled from Instagram from user elizabeth__edens. I was standing near the guy in the yellow rain poncho; too far away for Anthony to reach:

• I’m not sorry, Anthony Green is a fucking scene godfather at this point in the game. I have so much respect for him, it’s disgusting. (Henry wishes I had that much for him, haha.) Here is a man who kicked a drug addiction, married the woman who stood by his side through it all, created a beautiful family with her (two little boys and another baby on the way!), and somehow manages to juggle more than one musical project at a time with panache. AND HE’S A NICE GUY. Jonny Craig should take some pointers from him.
• I kept thinking, “I’m watching Circa Survive instead of being at work. My life ain’t so bad.”
  • Henry kept thinking, “I’m watching Circa Survive instead of being at work. My life fucking sucks.”
    • But we all know he would have internally been like FUCK YES if Anthony had rubbed mud into his grisly beard.

EMAROSA

• Immediately after Circa wrapped up, we had to run over to the Rise Stage, where Emarosa was going to start at 5:00. I had major heart palpitations while waiting, OMG. I love these fucking guys so much.
• As they usually do, Emarosa started their set with a long, dramatic lead-in until Bradley finally ran onto the stage and basically puked up his soul for all of us. I honestly couldn’t take my eyes off him, it was pretty pathetic.
• I don’t think I ever used the cat-with-heart-eyes emoji as much as I did during their set.

• Bradley Scott Walden > Jonny Craig.

• Some Jonny Craig sycophant tweeted that she stayed for one song and then had to walk away because “new Emarosa is just so terrible, like a joke. They should just quit.” And then of course Jonny retweeted her. I was still OMG JONNY CRAIG4L when Emarosa released their first single with Bradley, and even I was able to honestly admit that they struck gold with this new guy.
• They played A Hundred Crowns and I don’t think I took a single breath during it. Flawless.
• I asked Henry repeatedly, all weekend long, if he thought they were good and his answer every time was yes. HENRY SAID YES.

FAILURE

• Gah, you guys. I love Failure, but they broke up in 1997 and I was too busy being a yo-girl then to know they existed until I went through a pretty heavy phase in my early 20s where I was obsessed with Ken Andrews. So, the closest I ever came to seeing Failure was when Ken’s other band, Year of the Rabbit, opened for A Perfect Circle in 2003. But fuck, Failure’s “Fantastic Planet” was (and still is!) such a solid album. I used to call Henry “Sergeant Politeness” all of the time, after one of their songs. (With a heavy dose of sarcasm, of course.)

• The huge problem with festivals is that it’s impossible to see every band because there are so many stages. (Riot Fest had SEVEN.) And of course the universe was against me in putting Failure up against Emarosa. Luckily, there was enough overlap that I was able to bolt back to the main stage from the Rise stage in time to see/hear the last three songs, once of which was The Nurse Who Loved Me, which is my all-time favorite Failure song.
• Unfortunately, since their set already started and they were playing on the main stage, the above picture illustrates how close we were able to get, haha. I mean, we could have attempted to fight our way through the crowd of two stages (the Roots stage is just out of sight on the lefthand side of that photo, so a lot of that crowd was actually waiting for the next band that was about to take that stage), but I just wanted to be able to focus on the music and not elbowing my way though a wet, miserable crowd.

• Here is a picture of what my feet looked like during Failure. What kind of shitty blogger would I be if I didn’t include gratuitous shoe shots.

FROM INDIAN LAKES

• It was a happy accident that we got to catch this set. After Failure, I checked the schedule and deemed that it was a safe time to get food, because there were no must-sees. So I grabbed a Thai tofu wrap and then wandered over to the Revolt Stage while Henry was busy finding something for himself to eat. (He has to take care of me first.) I had heard of From Indian Lakes, but not heard them, you know? So I didn’t even know who was playing until I consulted my app.

• I was feeling them right from the start, but then they played this song, and I was like FUCK YES:

PIANOS BECOME THE TEETH

• I’ve liked these guys for some time now but this was my first time seeing them (although, I’ve seen their bassist and drummer play with United Nations) and they blew me away. The style of post-hardcore that they play has quickly become one of my favorites, the lyric-delivery is emotional but somehow even more urgent (like with Touche Amore and La Dispute, the latter of which I would get to see the next day and thought my heart was going to explode). I would put them high up on my Riot Fest highlight reel, and I’m even more stoked to see them open for Circa Survive in December.
• Henry was like, “meh.” He haaaaaaaaates this genre of music so bad, you have no idea. Which is why he is not going to the aforementioned show in December. WHICH IS IN PHILLY WHICH MEANS I’M GOING WITH TERRI AND CHRISTIAN!!

MASTODON

• I sacrificed Mastodon for Pianos Become the Teeth, and I stand by that decision. However, we made it to the Rise Stage in time to catch the tail end of their set on the nearby Rebel Stage. It was really raining hard by then and for some reason, three separate groups of people approached me to get directions to other stages/inquire who was playing next on the Rise Stage, all of which I shockingly knew the answers to because this is my wheelhouse, you guys. So it was OK that people were seemingly mistaking me for an official Riot Fest attendant. Maybe I have a future career, after all.

One of the two ferris wheels.

Mud.

OF MICE & MEN

• I’ve seen these guys so many times at Warped Tour, so I could have easily swapped them out for someone else, but truth be told, there wasn’t anyone else playing at that time that I really cared about. And besides, these guys inflate my soul and make me feel like I can do ANYTHING. BECAUSE THEY BELIEVE IN ME.
• Henry was miserable at this point. It was like 8:00 and fucking colder than Sarah Palin’s heart.
  • He made it to the second song before mumbling about going to “stand over there.” I didn’t even look to see where he was pointing, because his exodus meant that I was free to move closer to the stage, woo!

• Admittedly, this is not a band whose albums I rush out to buy when they’re released. Actually, I rarely even listen to them at home. But I goddamn love them live. Austin Carlile is so charismatic and he just makes me feel so pumped and like I’m 16 again, and that who gives a fuck if my TOMS get even more ruined, I’m going to fucking jump around in this mud with everyone else.

• Henry said he thinks Austin Carlile seems like a dick, so we fought about that later.
• This was a great end to the first day.

It was 8:30 by the time OM&M were over. I think the only two bands remaining that night were Jane’s Addition and Rise Against, but I’m not into either of them enough to endure any more time in the freezing rain. I honestly think it was briefly snowing at one point, and I promise there is no hyperbole usage there.

We passed some of the zombies from the haunted house on the way out. Then we took Uber back to the hotel and spent the next hour trying to warm up.

Here is a little video compilation from Day One. WATCH IT OR NOT, I DON’T CARE!

The aptly-named “Riot Feast” food vendor list.

When we go to Warped Tour, I usually smuggle in some granola bars because:

1. Food there is exorbitantly-priced

2. There are basically no options for vegetarians. It’s burgers and chicken strips or GTFO.

I was pretty worried about the food sitch at Riot Fest, since we’ve never gone to it before. But apparently, this year’s Riot Fest was the biggest one yet, so I don’t think a lot of people really knew what they were in for it. Which was: food trucks for daaaaays. It was the best of the county fair and local staples all lined up on one street and even the options for vegetarians and vegans were downright staggering. There was so much for even me to eat that I was sad I ran out of time!

We honestly had no time at all to do any tourist-y things in Chicago (it was literally: get up, stand in line, watch amazing bands for 10 hours, go back to the hotel and crash), so it was really awesome to still get to eat like we were vacationing in the city. And we could see the city skyline from Humboldt Park, so there was that, too.

Riot Fest didn’t start until 2pm on Friday, so we only ate once that day. Henry had some sickening duck sausage contraption and I had a fucking fat Thai-tofu wrap. This bitch was goddamn rotund, all distended from the gluttonous amounts of tofu and vegetables rammed into that sturdy wrap. It was cold and raining when I got it, and I ate it like a hobo in a snowstorm: double-fisted, jacket sleeves half-covering my hands, hood pulled up over my face, like I hadn’t eaten since that day 6 weeks ago when someone threw a can of anchovies at my forehead. I kept talking about how good it was, but really I’m not sure if I was even able to recognize tastes and flavors at that point of the day, because the weather was so miserable and we were exhausted and overwhelmed by hordes of people. But I sure as fuck felt 1000% better after that was able to quickly go back to dictating which stage we needed to slip-and-slide to through the mud.

The thought of drinking coffee at Warped Tour makes my belly ache. But last weekend at Riot Fest, the temperature fluctuated between 40-65 degrees. Coffee was welcome. Especially on Friday when it was so cold and wet that I’m not sure it wasn’t actually snowing at one point, but the line for Dark Matter was Cedar Point-levels of long. We actually couldn’t even find where it ended because there were so many people everywhere, that food lines just kind of snaked around in no real order and then disappeared into the masses. So I did my standard JUST FORGET IT!!! foot-stamp and went back to shivering beneath my flimsy, lightly-lined windbreaker. It was OK though, because I hit it up the next day before a line formed and it was delicious. Coffee is such an efficient attitude-adjuster. Henry can attest to that.

The only gripe I have is that Dark Matter apparently teamed up with the band Mastodon to make a limited edition blend that’s aged in bourbon whiskey barrels. Mastodon was playing Friday night, so I feel like this would have been an obvious thing to have available. But I know that I will be ordering a bag online, at least!

THIS CHEESE, YOU GUYS. THIS CHEESE WAS EVERYTHING. The menu:

Queijio de Coalho Brazilian-style Grilled Cheese on a Stick:
Original w/ black rum maple syrup
Hatch Chile w/ hot pepper jelly
Garlic w/ mojo de ajo
Smoked Bacon w/ pineapple chipotle

The Hatch Chile was my favorite. Also, I liked it better when I thought their name was Drunkow.

Over the course of the weekend, we had each of the top three. Surprisingly, Henry didn’t get the smoked bacon one for himself, unless that’s what he was doing one of the 8298374892759093245 times he slipped away to “pee.”

Ugh, I wish I was eating this damn stick-cheese right now. I CAN STILL TASTE IT IF I SQUEEZE MY EYES SHUT TIGHT ENOUGH.

I also buried my face into an arepa on Saturday, which is like a savory corn cake and mozzarella, cooked on a griddle. I miss arepas. I want more arepas. Fuck the pie party, let’s have an arepas affair. (Thank god Pittsburgh’s Conflict Kitchen is focused on Venezuela right now because I’m going to eat the ever-loving shit out of some arepas this weekend.)

At some point on Saturday, I also inhaled a bowl of sweet coconut rice loaded with fresh blueberries, strawberries and raspberries, so I was in a pretty mild mood. (Henry thanks you, food trucks.)

(And this is not to mention all the STRONGBOW I chugged all weekend too. Strongbow is my favorite cider in the whole entire world, and pretty much nothing was going to bring me down with that shit in my system. Not even the $7 Henry had to continually hand over for beverage tickets.)

On Sunday, I finally grabbed a grilled cheese from the Cheesie’s truck I had my eye on all weekend. I got the only one that didn’t have MEAT on it, the Caprese. A grilled cheese is no longer a grilled cheese once you start desecrating it with meat, I’m sorry. Those sandwiches need to have another name. (No offense to my carnivore bros out there.) It didn’t matter though because my Caprese was wonderful and it came with a small tub of pesto mayo, of which I made sure to scrape clean and I didn’t give a fuck who was looking. Pesto is the shit.

I also had more stick-cheese, and also a roasted red pepper and goat cheese tamale from Dia De Los Tamales, which was so good that I wish I had ordered more than one. I’m such a food-ordering fuck-up. At some point, we also ordered some baos from Wow Bao (mine was vegetable wheat, Henry’s was who cares) and they too, like everything else lined up in that park, were a mini riot fest for the mouth.

I think Henry ordered something from Big Pork, but I was way too involved in my own masticating to give his stuffed maw even a glance. I wanted him to get a Chubby Wiener just so I could tell Facebook that Henry was eating a chubby wiener but he “wasn’t in the mood for a hot dog” and I was like “Who said anything about a hot dog?”

Oh and we split a peach and bourbon hand pie from Blue Sky Bakery! I liked it but Henry wasn’t impressed, probably because it cost $4 and was really small. Every time we walked past their cart that weekend, I swear their menu kept growing and I wanted to eat it all. But….bands > food.

Oh, but we didn’t gain a single pound*. I estimated that we probably only sat down for a total of 30 minutes a day (and by “day,” I mean a Riot Fest day, which was approx. 10:30am-10:00pm; Friday was only about 12:30-9:00, though). The rest of the time was all walking, standing, running (for me), bouncing (for me). I found out afterward that it was about a mile’s distance from the Rise Stage to the Rock Stage. Contrary to the map below, there was no way to cut across the park other than following the road along the perimeter.

Which, by the way, didn’t connect into a full circle. All the water was fenced off and the road going through the middle wasn’t accessible. It was also nearly impossible to cut through the grassy areas to get to each stage, because there were ridiculously-placed VIP sections blocked off and as the days on, the population around each stage had become so dense that the only way to cut through was to put your head down and charge. It’s a miracle that Henry and I never became separated. Can you imagine? I would probably still be in Humboldt Park, laying behind a porta-potty in the fetal position.

I wish I had worn my pedometer, because it would have been interesting to see how many miles we walked each day. Saturday especially had us going from the Rise Stage to the Rock Stage more times than I would have preferred. (And one of those times, I ran most of the way because during Television’s set on the Rise Stage, I realized we were cutting it close for Saosin on the Rock Stage and I needed to BE UP FRONT FOR THAT SHIT.

So, I ran.

Henry did not run. But I was wearing a bright orange Epitaph backpack so he said he knew where I was at all times. Like I’m his child.

Thank god for accidental exercise.

*(There was a funnel cake truck there that probably would have made this statement untrue had I caved and indulged in one. Each one basically had the contents of an entire dessert cart balancing on a bed of funnel cake. AND I SAW BRADLEY SCOTT WALDEN FROM EMAROSA IN LINE FOR ONE ON SATURDAY AND ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK!!!!!)

That’s a lot of people. 

You know that feeling you get after you go to a really fucking amazing show, that sinking pit you fall into once the adrenaline and euphoria wears off? That emotionally-crippling post-show depression? If you give even a tiny turd about music, you know what I’m talking about.

This is the hardest and farthest I’ve fallen post-show. All three days of Riot Fest were like a fucking fairy tale for me; and I mean all of the good parts, no poison apples or trolls under bridges.  It hit me really hard this morning. I came into work and slammed my purse down, sighing heavily. Glenn asked me in his standard non-caring monotone, “What’s wrong.” I HAVE POST-SHOW DEPRESSION, I cried. “OK. You can still listen to their music, you know” was his dumb, non-helpful advice.

OMG THAT’S NOT THE POINT UGH. You don’t think I haven’t been obsessively YouTubing Riot Fest performances, GLENN?!

I have so much to write about. The bands, obviously. But just the whole atmosphere, the sketchy Uber rides, the FOOD OMG THE FUCKING FOOD — there is so much I want to tell you guys! I’ve been on the verge of exploding every day at work because I want to talktalktalk about it so much but no one carescarescares!

But before I even get started, there’s something totally painful that I need to do: I need to thank Henry on this space. Because aside from buying the tickets (literally the only thing I did), Henry took care of every last minutia to make this past weekend a reality for me. Even though he hates this shit and hates spending money and hates crowds of music fans and hates standing around all day, Henry did all of this for me and I am pretty overwhelmed by it all. I mean, not that Henry doesn’t normally do anything for me, but this was something that I honestly thought he was going to say “Fuck no!” to. I mean, when I asked him three months ago if we could go, I actually laughed a little bit because it didn’t seem like something he would ever say yes to.

It just meant so much to me. I’m a pretty lucky broad. And even though Henry frowned a lot (like in this picture, where he was frowning because we matched), we barely fought at all (and the few times we did, it was because I missed my last feeding), he admitted on the way home that he had “a little” fun. It’s going to be hard to top Riot Fest.

I mean, unless WE GO AGAIN NEXT YEAR?!?! HENRY?!!??!

“Thinking About How Bad My Day is Going to Suck” frown.

“Waiting For Uber to Take Me to Hell” frown.

“Didn’t We Just See Circa Survive in July?” frown.

“8 Minutes ’til Emarosa” frown.

“Don’t Take My Cheese Fries, It’s All I’ve Got” frown.

“Not Understanding How People Like Bands Like Pianos Become The Teeth” frown.

“I’m Cold & Wet & Standing with this Annoying Person & I Hope My Mustache Doesn’t Get Frizzy” frown.

“Still Hate of Mice & Men” frown.

“Just Started Day 2 & I’m Already Frowning Because Day 1 Taught Me How Much This Will Suck” frown.

“I Paid $7 For This Beer; The Numbing Sensation I Feel Is Priceless” half-frown.
“Waiting for Rx Bandits; They’re Going To Suck” frown.
***********
This is a collection of Henry-frowns from the first two days of Riot Fest. I’m sure many more will be inspired today!

Flashback Friday to when we went to Coachella in 2004 to see The Cure and it was 113 degrees all weekend (no joke), Henry put us up in a prostitute and feral cat-inhabited motel* in San Bernadino, and I had rage blackouts like you wouldn’t believe. But…I got to see The Cure.

Somehow, Henry and I are still together 10 years later and are about to see The Cure this Sunday in Chicago and I am absolutely bubbling over with giddiness!

*(I know, it’s amazing that I wasn’t down with this.)

Hands Like Houses redid a bunch of their songs for an upcoming album and I was super happy to find out that they included my favorite song of theirs! I’m all heart-eyes for days over this version.

<3

All day at work, I kept obsessively checking the tracking info for my Emarosa preorder bundle.

“Out for delivery.”

All day long.

Longest fucking delivery route of all time.

Henry picked me up from work at 5:30 and on the way home, I noticed that the status had FINALLY been changed to “delivered.”

I did an uncoordinated air-pump thing.

“Have you been home at all today? WAS IT THERE?!” I screamed at the side of Henry’s bristled cheek as he steered the car around potholes.

“I was home for a little bit but it wasn’t there,” Henry replied in the calm voice reserved for cloud-watching with kittens and lacking the URGENCY required when one is discussing the status of an Emarosa album delivery.

My heart began its nervous jig inside my chest. A parade of lost packages drove through my memory like a fucking funeral procession, my Emarosa bundle in the hearse.

I checked my email again.

“It says it was delivered at 2:06!” I cried, my wildly gesticulating heart inviting my cheeks to join the panic party by pumping warm blood into them.

“Well, it wasn’t there when I was home,” Henry mumbled.

He pulled into the driveway and I craned my neck to see the porch.

Empty.

He parked the car in the driveway and Chooch took his good old time getting out of the backseat so I ran around the front of the car, practically knocking Henry back into the drivers seat, and raced up the driveway. I yanked the screen door open to see if my package was laying in between the doors BUT IT WASN’T.

Henry had caught up with me by then and as he was unlocking the door, I was on the cusp of tears.

“PLEASE TELL ME YOU WERE JOKING AND IT’S IN THE HOUSE!” I screamed at him.

“It’s not here!” Henry insisted as I pushed my way into the house and ran around wildly.

He’s right, I thought as I looked at the package-less coffee table. It didn’t come. SOMEONE STOLE IT!!

I was eight, thirteen, nineteen, twenty-three, thirty-two all over again and not getting what I wanted for Christmas. I was just about to shriek, “THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER AND I WISH I WAS DEAD!!!!!” when I noticed the MerchNow package resting surreptitiously on a dining room stool.

I snatched it and caught Henry laughing at me. And I started to cry.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!” I screamed, and my whole body WAS SHAKING because that is how much this shit matters to us kids, ok?

And then I proceeded to rip the package open, smash the Versus beanie on my dumb head, hug the CD, kiss the vinyl, put on my Emarosa shirt, and string up the fox ring on the included chain.

Today is a good day.

I mentioned my love for the Game Show Network several times on this blog recently, but another thing I really loved about the invention of digital cable was all of the music channels! I’m not talking about MTV, et al, but the ones that are like radio stations for TV. You can listen to music while reading random facts about the music you’re listening to.

I mean, that’s how it works nowadays. But back then? It was literally a black screen. It didn’t even tell you the name of the song and the artist you were listening to! Shenanigans. (a/k/a Salem’s best bar.)

One day, this song came on the alternative channel and I was like, “EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND HEAR, I MEAN REALLY HEAR, THIS SONG.” And for once I wasn’t talking to my imaginary friends, because back then, I actually a ton of real life people who were always hanging around my loft. I had no idea who it was singing this haunting song; it didn’t sound like anything that was being played on the radio, which was odd because there was no real underground thing happening on these channels back then. It was seriously all bullshit you would hear on regular radio stations. But this song 100% was not being played on Pittsburgh’s alternative radio station.

I lunged over and hit “record” on my VCR, because this was pre-DVR days, my friends. I literally recorded a blank TV screen onto a VHS tape, just so I could later record that onto a cassette tape too. I was real tech-savvy in 1998.

Now that I had it recorded, I decided to call the local alternative station and do this: “If I play a song for you, can you tell me who sings it?” This worked once for me, when I first became transfixed and heart-eyed by Huffamoose’s hit single “Wait.” The DJ knew immediately who it was, flaunting his credentials and probably blowing on his finger tips as soon as he hung up the phone.

So I tried this tactic and the DJ was like, “I have no idea. Sorry.”

I waited for the next DJ’s shift and made the same call. Still no dice.

And I kept doing this for days until I exhausted all of my options. I was really big into videotaping every mundane thing I did back then, and I can tell you for a fact that I have legit video of my friends making these calls for me, too. One night, we just went around the room, taking turns calling the same DJ who fucking FLIPPED OUT finally and screamed, “I TOLD YOU I DON’T FUCKING KNOW WHO SINGS THIS STUPID SONG!”

You might say that this was the title track to Erin’s Summer of 1998.

I would play it over and over again in my car. I didn’t even care that the beginning was cut off. My friend Heather, who was basically living with me at the time, would subconsciously hum this song while half asleep on my couch. Some of my guy friends would threaten to pull the mix tape apart if I didn’t stop listening to it.

WE WERE ALL HAUNTED BY THIS FUCKING SONG. Friendships were ruined. Sanity was snapped. Local radio DJs were angered. That’s why I slept with so many guys that summer, Henry. It was the song making me do it. Really.

That fall, I met and began dating Jeff; even then I was still listening to The Song in the car, not as obsessively, but it was on several mix tapes. So this fucking song at some point had wormed its way into Jeff’s ears and set up camp in his brain, just as it had every sorry mother fucker that came to my apartment that summer. Flash forward to that spring, and we’re hanging out in my apartment (a different one at this point), and Jeff casually says, “Hey, that band you like was on [some late night show] last night.”

“Which band?” I asked, because hello. There are many.

“Guster,” he answered, and then looked confused when I said I didn’t know any band named Guster.

“Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me? You listen to that damn airport song all the fucking time!” he cried. And then it hit me. The airport song. The song I obsessed over that ended with the line “You’ll be selling books at the airport.”

Jeff unknowingly cracked the fucking code. And yet I still I fucking dumped him. Sorry, Jeff.

I went out and bought their CD immediately. But…I never actually became a Guster fan. I only just liked that one song. The fucking Airport Song. (That’s actually the name of it, too!”

So today, I am going to share this goddamn song with you, because it practically ruined my life and you should know that.

I recently posted this video on Heather’s Facebook wall and she was like, “Thanks. I hate you.”

Today I’m going to tell you about some things I’m currently obsessed with, because don’t you all give so many shits about what I like? Obviously.

1. This version of PVRIS’s “St. Patrick” makes me feel like I’m being emotionally cuddled. (There’s no screaming in it, if that usually deters you from clicking “play” when I post YouTube videos, haha.

2. Cantaloupe! I know, such a small thing to obsess over, but usually cantaloupe is that one fruit I pick out of fruit salads because it’s always so over-ripe (under-ripe?) and tasteless. But Henry has won the cantaloupe (and watermelon!) lottery this summer and has been bringing home some of the sweetest, juiciest melons this side of 1990s porn.

3. Emarosa. Big surprise. But I can’t remember the last time I felt this much anticipation brewing inside my gut for a new album. I thought this band was never coming back, and now here they are, with a singer who is a million times better than Jonny Craig, and every single song and snippet I’ve heard thus far has felt like dynamite in my heart. I get to see them again in 2 weeks at Riot Fest and I’m so excited that I could just fucking SCREAM. They just released another single yesterday, and this is the one I’ve been craving ever since they played an acoustic version of it last May when I saw them on the Devils Dance tour. It is amazing. It is brilliant. It is so Emarosa and I must have listened to it 87 times last night after we came home from an ice cream date with Chris and Monica (or, Chronica). Here is Henry’s face during the Emarosa marathon:

Here’s the album version of “People Like Me…” even though I posted the live version last week. YOU SHOULD STILL LISTEN TO THIS ONE BECAUSE IT’S BOMB AND WHEN BRADLEY INTERRUPTS HIMSELF AND SAYS, “NAH, FUCK IT” I GET SO STOKED.

I fucking love you, Bradley Scott Walden. I’m ready for this fresh start, in so many fucking ways. #Goodbye2008

 4. Halloween Desk Planning! I came up with this year’s theme a few weeks ago and have already started collecting some key elements. I’m pretty excited for it, but also worried that it will be a huge failure because taking last year off kind of makes me feel like I’m off my game. Barb even said that I’ll never be able to out-do my Murder Desk from 2011 and believe me, don’t I know it. This year’s theme will be subtle (kind of) but also requires a lot of work and searching for things. (Luckily, these are all things that I have been wanting to add to my collection anyway, so acquiring them won’t be superfluous.) I can’t wait to tell you what I’m doing! Secrets are not  my strong-suit.

5. Painting faces. Actually, just painting in general. These last several months have not been the greatest for me (just inside my head; not anything serious, like job-related or with my home life). I feel like slowly, things are starting to come back to me, even after years of not practicing, even though some people still call my art “paint-by-numbers” and kind of roll their eyes when I try to show them things I’m working on, because they’d like me better if my “talents” were more of the culinary variety, I guess. So sorry. Juvenile art is the best you’ll get!

(ALERT! Jeannie was just over here and she said that she likes my art and that I have a very distinct style, so suck it, haters. Jeannie is hard to please!)

(OMG you guys, my family gave me such a complex, I apologize, lol.)

Anyway, I painted this one of Jesus yesterday, because why not:

Also, this beast that’s still in progress:

6. Henry In a Suit. OK, I haven’t written about Kaitlin’s wedding yet because I need to do that at home and not sporadically at work like most of my blog posts come into fruition, but can I just post this picture of Henry here and chirp about how much of a crush I have on him when he wears a suit? Heart-eyes for days.

A quick list of things I’m currently NOT obsessed with:

• CHRIS LEAVING THE LAW FIRM, BOOOO.
• Summer basically being over.
• Volatile mornings (a/k/a “Getting The Kid Ready For School”).
• Being strung along; luckily, strings can be cut.
• The neighbors.
• Not having all of the time in the world.

Henry’s mom has been staying over a lot this summer to help out with watching Chooch since my schedule changed and Henry’s work is constantly jerking him around. Now, don’t get it twisted, I like Judy a lot. BUT if I have to hear one more second of the Family Feud music, Ruby might make a comeback.

(Ruby is my bi-polar psycho personality, for those who haven’t been graced with her presence.)

Try to imagine how you felt when you were 16 and too many grown ups were around. That’s how I feel. It’s bad enough when it’s just Henry!! Now I’m surrounded!!

Last night, I pouted in my bedroom and listened to Touché Amore REALLY LOUDLY and waited for Henry to come in and ask me what’s wrong so I could cry NOTHING!!! UGH!!!

Judy’s downstairs watching the Bachelor now I think. Sigh.

You guys? My life. This is it. What a fantastic summer this has been.

Tonight, I’ve been replaying the same Emarosa song over and over and crying because I am the ultimate emo song personified these days. Ever since I heard them play this song on the Devil’s Dance tour in May, it has haunted to me. It makes me feel like my heart has been carved and sculpted into a wigwam and I’m curled up inside it. YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN DON’T LIE, FUCKER.

^ That song title is wrong, FYI.

I salivate every time I think of this upcoming album. Less than a month until it’s released (I preordered it of course)! And then a week later I’ll be seeing them in Chicago at Riot Fest and that will make up for my lame summer.

(Oh boy, now Henry’s here to completely not listen when I try to talk about my FEELINGS.)

When I was offered the new gig at work, the first thing that I thought of was, “I’LL GET TO GO TO ALL OF THE CONCERTS!!” Working a regular daylight shift has been FANTASTIC, I can’t even stress enough how stoked I am to not have to pick and choose and then request days off at work. (If you know me, you know that I HATE USING PTO. I’m a hoarder. Barb gives me quarterly lectures about this.)

Anyway. A few weeks ago, I happened to see that United Nations was coming to Smiling Moose. But, let me back up. Perhaps you’ve heard of a little now-defunct band called Thursday? Fucking sick post-hardcore band that blew through the scene and, in my opinion, really shook shit up. I remember hearing “Understanding in a Car Crash” on our city’s alternative/hardrock radio station and thinking, “Holy shit, they’re actually playing Thursday on the radio?” I thought that was going to change things, like maybe next I’d start hearing Thrice and Glassjaw on the radio too, like maybe post-hardcore was going to become The Next Big Thing.

But, no. And that’s probably for the best.

Thursday did go on to become a pretty big deal though. I remember being really excited to see them in Coachella and Henry was just like, “Oh great. This fucking band.” And I remember like it was yesterday, Geoff Rickly passing out on the stage because it was 113 degrees in that fucking desert, and for some reason thinking “Now Henry will like them!” and he was like, “Why, because their singer passed out? I mean, I feel bad, but no. I still don’t like them.”

That was in 2004. I saw them again later that summer at The Cure’s Curiosa festival. Robert Smith had met them when they played Coachella that spring and really liked them, so he personally invited them to be a part of Curiosa. Can you imagine being a young band like that, and oh hello, Robert Smith wants us to join his exclusive summer music festival, no big deal.

So, I got to see them twice in 2004 and then….not ever again. They called it quits in 2011 and I kicked myself. There have been so many times over the years where self-kicking over missed music opportunities have happened, and you know what? I’m not missing things anymore.

And that is why even though Henry was like, “I am 100% for certain not going to this show with you,” I still bought my fucking ticket for this “little” screamo super-group called United Nations that just so happens to be fronted by Geoff Rickly.

Henry dropped me off at the Smiling Moose after work on Thursday, where I sat at the bar like a girl who had been stood up, chugging two Redd’s Apple Ales and then going upstairs for a night of screamo/post-hardcore.

Worn Colors, a local Pittsburgh band, had already started by the time I walked in, but it was still early and I was one of 8 people in the room. The singer spent most of the set coming out onto the floor to sing, which was great but also made me nervous because he kept standing next to me and I wasn’t trying to have any interaction because, you know, I’m Erin. I’m stand-offish. Don’t look at me.

At first, I was like, oh this band is going to be dumb, because: Pittsburgh. But they were fantastic and really hurt my heart. They were kind of Touche Amore-ish, if you’re into that type of music. Which I am. I teared up a few times during their set.

I sent Henry a video of them and his reply was “glad I’m not there.” Henry just doesn’t get it, you guys.

The next band was Kid Durango and I thought I was going to hate them too because they were sitting at the bar when I got there and the singer reminded me of that douche from Puddle of Mudd. (Also, my eyes are bad, so who knows for sure.)

“We’re going to play a song right now, but just so you know, the set hasn’t started yet. We’ll let you know when it starts,” the singer said, and I was like, “What? I hate you.” But then they started playing Toto’s “Africa” and I was like, “FUCK YOU I LOVE YOU!!!!” They played the whole song and then the singer was all, “OK now our real set is starting.” And they launched into 30 minutes of some kind of neo-grunge and I surprisingly was OK with it. Also, I think I’m in love with the singer now, but you expected that.

Meanwhile, some kid coerced me into buying a copy of his Socialism magazine and then wouldn’t stop talking to me about it and I was like, “Kid. There’s a band. I’m trying to listen.” He kept asking me to come to some socialist revolt this weekend at Pitt and finally I gave him my fucking email address just so he would go away.

Two minutes, he sent me an email with details for this weekend’s couch-burning rally and then 30 second after that he was at my side again, asking me if I got his email. Fuuuck. Still, I texted Henry and said, “I’m a socialists now. Bye.”

The third band was Frameworks from Gainesville, FL. I don’t have any pictures of them (there’s a video though, down below there) but man. They were beautiful and touched my soul with their perfect, melodic hardcore. I love this genre of music so much, because how else can I cater to my polarizing sadness and anger all at once? It is the perfect drug for people with personality disorders.

(Henry just walked by and said this band is not melodic to him at all. Haha.)

It was still pretty empty there during Frameworks. I was standing next to a wall about 10 feet back from the stage and the whole middle of the floor was empty. So, all this room, right? Yet some guy still decided to stand right next to me. Like, so very next to me that people probably thought he was my boyfriend. Henry doesn’t even stand that “next to me” at shows. (Big surprise.) First, he kept “accidentally” nudging my foot with his. So I would cross my right leg over my left to create more space. Then his fingertips kept grazing my arm and I was like “WHAT, BECAUSE I’M HERE ALONE AND I’M A BROAD, RIGHT?!” God, fuck off!

It’s not often that I go to a show where I feel that the entire line-up is solid, but this was one of those times. There wasn’t a single moment where I was like, “OK, please be done now.” Although, I’m a little sad that the fucking DC show got a special guest as the opener and it turned out it was motherfucking Will Butler from Arcade Fire. (Just found out a few days later BOTH Butler brothers played!)

BUT THEN IT WAS TIME FOR UNITED NATIONS~!! Oh you guys, it’s been a minute since I got to enjoy some real, authentic screamo and since Henry wasn’t there worrying about getting his hair mussed and his non-descript shirt ripped, I got to enjoy it from the front of the stage. And that is absolutely what I needed after these last few weeks of manic, nervous energy keeping me awake at night and making me feel like I’ve lost control of everything I’ve worked so hard to keep contained.

You guys, I have been wading through some kind of emotional turmoil recently and now I was five feet away from Geoff Rickly, having his screams cauterize the pain in my heart and just feeling sheer AGGRESSION.

FUCK.

OMG being directly on the receiving end of these vocals is literally the equivalent of a day at a spa for someone like me:

The only sad part for me about that night is not having any glorious pictures of Henry’s frowns, because I can only imagine how chiseled they would have been during this particular show. Oh well, maybe I’ll get some good ones of him during Pianos Become the Teeth’s set next month at Riot Fest. RIGHT HENRY?

Here’s a compilation of the short clips I recorded during the night. I am awful at recording shit at shows because I just want to be in the moment, but I still try to get a few seconds of each band as a memento. Also, I’m usually never holding my phone properly, haha.

The next morning at work, Glenn asked me in his typical dry monotone how my “screaming show” was.

“Oh my god, it was so good!! Geoff Rickly spit on me!” I cried.

“That’s great. I bet Henry wishes he could spit on you every night.” GOOD ONE GLENN.

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Even if this isn’t your thing, I do recommend reading about their history, because it’s exciting. Geoff Rickly gives zero fucks. More bands should be like this.

Listening to these two songs over and over is not going to snap me out of my melancholic funk. BUT I CAN’T STOP.

Let’s keep telling ourselves that.

The new Emarosa album is coming out on September 9.

I already pre-ordered it (the bundle I got comes with a fox ring!!

), I get to see them play at Riot Fest a week later, and then two weeks after that, Icarus the Owl is playing here at Smiling Moose. September is going to murder my heart.