On the way home from Chooch’s piano lesson on Saturday, some Queen song came on the radio (it was probably “Another One Bites the Dust,” but I can’t remember exactly right now).

Chooch is oddly interested in Queen. Not in a “LET’S BUY THEIR WHOLE DISCOGRAPHY!

” sense. But, he does like to ask questions about them. Once, I played him the “Radio Gaga” video, because I was OBSESSED with that song when I was around his age (there’s even a video of me dancing to with curlers in my hair years later—I think jerk Lisa filmed it in my mom’s family room when I wasn’t paying attention) and he was fascinated.

This time, he started asking us questions about Queen’s popularity and seemed kind of surprised when Henry and I told him that they had lots of big radio hits. We started naming some of them and I had a quick audio flashback of senior year of high school. I had never been a super big Queen fan, so I never really sunk into their deep cuts. But then I started dating Psycho Mike, and the one good quality about Psycho Mike among the layers of shitty attitude, rage disorders, and fiery jealousy was that he really loved music. None of my prior boyfriends really seemed to give a shit about music, let alone that all-important relationship token: The Mixtape. I would make them for people all the time: friends, penpals, unworthy boyfriends—but it wasn’t until I started dating Mike that I ever got one back from a boy.

And it was fucking legit.

It was through Mike that I learned about Billy Bragg (whom I finally got to see live at Riot Fest last September!), Neutral Milk Hotel, Syd Barrett, and Radiohead (Mike was going to see them back when they were opening for bands at tiny Pittsburgh clubs like Metropol), some of which were included on the mixtape he made for me during the winter of 1997. I spent so many nights laying on the beanbag in my bedroom, lit only by a ridiculous collection of neon water sculptures and Christmas lights bouncing off of my foiled wallpaper…it was just a few nudie posters short of being a home-version of Spencer’s, a headshop without the bongs and nose-pinching stench of patchouli. And this is how Mike’s mixtape was best experienced: half-devoured by a giant bag of beans, awash in psychedelic lights, absolutely nothing distracting from the words and music seeping into the system like some supreme cocktail of opiates.

During our Queen conversation on Saturday, I pulled up “You Don’t Fool Me” on my phone and, before it started playing, I explained that it was my favorite Queen song of all time.

“It was on this mixtape that Psycho Mike made me,” I mumbled.

I hadn’t listened to this song in at least 15 years, and as soon as I heard those opening notes, I was back in my old bedroom again, and I felt so calm and peaceful, even with Chooch’s mouth chattering away in the backseat of the car. Over the weekend, I listened to some more songs that I remembered from that tape, “Marooned” by Pink Floyd, “Bad As They Seem” by Hayden, even Pachelbel’s “Canon” was on there. Side B ended with a 10-second recording of one of our phone calls, unbeknownst to me at the time; I thought was incredibly adorable and romantic back then, me sounding all sleepy and him teasing me with a deranged lilt to his voice.

Listening to these songs made me feel warm, safe, comfortable: none of the things Psycho Mike ever made me feel.

There were numerous reasons why I HAD to go to Philly to see Circa Survive:

• They just released a new album
• This was the first tour they were doing in support of that album, and it wasn’t coming to Pittsburgh
• The guys in Circa Survive are from Philly (or nearby), so this would a hometown show and everyone knows hometown shows are the best shows
• It’s Circa fucking Survive
• I would get to go with Terri and  Christian!

So I did that thing that I do when I really want something, which is tell Henry that it’s all I want for “x holiday.” This time, Christmas was the next holiday coming up, which is good because Christmas works better than Flag Day. So I was like, “OH PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE, HENRY CLAUS, I’LL DO ANYTHING!” I think he liked the idea that all he had to do was get me to Philly, and not have to go to the show.

Plus, we all got to hang out beforehand and the next morning, so it just made sense for us to all go and make a weekend of it. At least, that’s how I tried to sell my case. “We can have group hangs! Then you and Chooch can dick around town doing fuck all while I go to the show with Christian and Terri!” I cried excitedly, and Henry didn’t really say anything, which is better than when he gets all huffy and starts yelling at me about money. Not that that happens a lot.

The show was at Union Transfer, and it was a fantastic venue even before the show started. The line to get in was super quick, the staff was friendly, and there were numerous ciders to choose from at the bar. This is really all I ask for. Terri and I each got some cider and hung out at a table near the window,  and I know this is cheesy, but we text pretty much every day so it was super nice to actually talk like real people. Eventually, we could hear the opening notes of Pianos Become the Teeth so we ditched the bar and made our way to the stage. Christian was already in there with one of his friends, but I needed to be closer for Pianos so we were like, “Peace out” and wormed our way through the crowd.

Meanwhile, Henry and Chooch were going to hit up some diner down the street from the hotel and then go get ice cream.

Pianos Become the Teeth is a hard band for me to describe, for some reason. I had a moderate affinity for them for awhile, but when I saw United Nations last summer, my appreciation for them grew (two of them are in United Nations: the drummer and bassist) and I knew I had to see Pianos live sooner rather than later. Luckily, they were at Riot Fest and their short set in the rain on one of the smallest stages in Humboldt Park turned out to be one of the highlights for me, which probably doesn’t mean much since that entire weekend was one big, obese highlight.

Their music is akin to post-rock, think Mogwai. But with anguished vocals that aren’t quite a scream so you can’t call this screamo, but more like a cry: a gravel-throated anguished cry over top of beautiful music that ebbs and flows with intensity.

Henry dislikes them because he’s a moron.

But OK, OK, this isn’t a music blog. So I’ll just say that when they played “Repine,” my eyeballs burned with tears. Jesus, that song.

Next up was Title Fight, which was exciting because the first time I ever saw them was the first time I met Terri and Christian at the AP Show in Cleveland almost exactly three years ago! We were all there as guests of our mutual friend Jason from Alternative Press, and spent the whole day together, record shopping, grilled cheese eating, and AP back issue rummaging. Jason had to do some obligatory networking during the after party that night and was so afraid to leave us alone together, for fear of one of us instigating a fistfight (we are hockey fan rivals—Pens vs. Flyers). I had a feeling that night that we were going to stay in touch and likely become good friends. You can just sometimes tell these things! It didn’t feel awkward hanging out with them and we had a lot to talk about, too.

Title Fight is one of those bands that I am a casual fan of, but seeing them live is a whole new ballgame. Terri has definitely gotten me way more into this genre, and I’m so thankful for that because I need all the help I can get to keep me away from stupid Jonny Craig and his stupid music. Ugh.

And then finally, it was time for Circa Survive. This time, Terri and I secured a prime spot near the side of the stage and, with the exception of the couple behind us who talked the whole time (GO STAND IN THE BACK IF ALL YOU’RE GOING TO DO IS TALK), it was a nearly flawless show, crowd-wise. Although Terri had some weird experience with some guy’s butt that I might try and talk her into guest-posting about.

Over the weekend, I went back in my blog and read about other Circa Survive shows I’ve gone to and really….what more can I say other than they are really something special. Even Henry, who doesn’t necessarily like their music, has admitted that they are entertaining. I’ve seen them in several different cities now: Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Chicago, Cincinnati….but I have to say that this Philly show was hands down the best Circa show I’ve seen to date. There was so much energy in the room that it was impossible to stand still, especially during “Child of the Desert,” when Anthony ordered everyone to stand as still as they could, holding all their wiggles in. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to let the wiggles out,” he promised. And when that time came, I grabbed Terri’s arm and we started jumping around like idiots because WHO CARES, WE’RE AT A CIRCA SHOW!? No offense to Henry, but it was like, next level amazingness. You have to understand that I don’t often go to shows with other people who love it as much as me! With Terri, it was like, “Fuck yes, let’s sing, high five our neighbors, and let our fucking wiggles out!”

THANK YOU, ANTHONY GREEN.

They played The Difference Between Medicine and Poison is the Dose, which ends with Anthony yelling, “Did you ever wish you were somebody else?!” After which, Anthony said to the crowd, “I used to wish I was somebody else. You know who I wished I was? James Brown! James motherfucking Brown!” and we all screamed of course because, James Brown. But the girl I hated behind me yelled to her boyfriend, “WHO’S JAMES BROWN?”

Kids!

Later, I would find out that while we were having religious experiences at Union Transfer, Henry and Chooch ended up just going to McDonald’s (Chooch’s choice) and Chooch spilled his drink in the car (“Daddy was pissed off,” Chooch wants me to  tell you) and then they went back to the hotel because the ice cream place apparently sells Christmas trees in December instead of frozen treats. So essentially, a pretty typical Henry and Chooch evening.

I’ve said this before, but there is something about Anthony Green that reminds me of Chooch. I honestly think that if Chooch was the frontman of a band, he’d have that same cult-like charisma and charm, and I was really excited when, after the show, Christian said that he was thinking the same thing. And again, I just know that Chooch is going to grow up and become something stupid just to spite me. Something stupid like a doctor. Ugh!

I bought this sick limited edition show poster (only 100 were made for this show!!) and treated it like a fucking Faberge egg until I finally got it home the next night. Still waiting for dumb Henry to frame it.

After we left the venue, I chimed in from the backseat to point out how happy I was to leave a show and have friends with me to completely analyze and dissect the night. I love Henry and I appreciated that he accompanies me to pretty much every single show I want to go to, but he doesn’t give a shit. And I wouldn’t want him to change. It’s our thing: I’m all hyper and wistful at once, and he’s just….”deep sigh.” It was just really fun and game-changing to be at this one, of all shows, with two people who are just as passionate about Circa Survive and music in general. It was such a great night and you know I don’t ever take these experiences for granted, but this one really made me extra appreciative.

Before taking me back to the hotel, Christian drove around the city for a little bit while we talked excitedly about the show and how on point all three bands were, and Terri pointed out noteworthy things and we saw a sick fight that briefly spilled out into the street. And, and, and! Even two weeks later, my mind is churning with minutiae that I don’t want to let go of.  I’ve watched YouTube videos of this show countless times since that night and Henry is like, “HOW MANY TIMES CAN YOU WATCH THESE.”

*****

Chooch was wide awake when I got back to the hotel after midnight, watching trashy TV and filling out MadLibs, but Henry was mostly asleep.  I shook him violently and, in my teenager vocal cadence, rapidly recounted all of the highlights for him and then shoved my phone in his face so he could see my Instagram videos.

“I know what Anthony looks like,” he mumbled, rolling over in bed and going back to sleep.

Ugh, shows like these make me feel better than a day at the spa.

We listened to Circa Survive for a good portion of the drive back to Pittsburgh the next day, and I cried a little while revisiting old memories and talking for the thousandth time about the first time we saw them at the Grog Shop over the summer of 2005, mostly because I like to tell that story. Henry of course knows that story well because he was there with me, so he just sighed a lot.

From: First Feet Productions

*If you’ve stumbled across this blog and aren’t familiar with Circa Survive, please please please do yourself a favor and check them out. They’re really something special.*

Today as I was getting ready for work, I had a craving for Howard Jones so I put on his YouTube channel. I loved this man so much as a kid growing up in the 80s and he has been on my concert bucket list forever. I decided to check his upcoming tour dates and he’s coming to Cleveland in March! Usually, I find out about these things way after they happen, like when I’m scrolling through Instagram and I see one of my friends posting pictures of a Howard Jones show in Cleveland last year, so I’m taking this as a sign that I have to go. Plus, it’s on a Saturday, which makes the 2 hour drive there from Pittsburgh so much easier.

Howard must really like Cleveland if he was just there and is coming back less than a year later and it’s one of only 4 US cities listed on his tour. Thank god Cleveland is practically my neighbor.

I was about to call Henry 87 times in a row and then text him “911!!!! 187!!!!” but then Janna said she would go with me so Henry is like THANK GOD! I’m going to be in a good mood today, so everyone can thank Howard Jones, Cleveland, and Janna.

(Mike + the Mechanics is playing here in March too and if Henry doesn’t buy me tickets for Christmas, he is fucking dead to me.)

Who’s on YOUR concert bucket list? Tell me!

I have some kind of terrible restless brain syndrome, where if I’m not already doing something, then I’m thinking of 87 different things that I want to be doing / could be doing / should be doing. Usually it’s just small tasks, like “ATTEMPT TO MAKE SHIT WITH SCULPEY AND CRY!” or “TRANSCRIBE THAT CLEVELAND TRIP FROM ’04 ONTO THE BLOG*!” or “TAKE CHOOCH TO EXORCIST.”

*(I think I really am going to do this though because there are some choice Henry anecdotes up in that piece. EVEN A SERVICE STORY.)

But then last Thursday, I was sitting here at work and texted Henry, “LET’S PAINT THAT ONE WALL IN THE LIVING ROOM GRAY!” which turned into “AND ALSO LET’S PAINT THE INSIDE OF THE ARCHWAY AND SHELVING UNIT YELLOW!” and then by the time Friday rolled around, it had morphed into “FUCK IT LET’S KNOCK DOWN THE ENTIRE HOUSE AND REBUILD!!”

It is imperative that I stay busy during this time of the year. It’s my top survival tactic.

I worked from home on Friday while Henry diligently moved all of the furniture into the center of the room and then when I was on my break, I helped him take everything out of that shelving unit, which is super cute and built into the wall, but it admittedly is like a catch-all for shit that we shouldn’t even be keeping and by we I mean me and my ridiculous bottle collection.

“Really?” Henry asked, holding up a dusty, unopened Fiji water bottle.

“I didn’t know they were going to become so readily available!” I cried in defense, chucking it into the “GOODBYE CRAP” pile. Ugh. He tried to pitch a dusty, plastic bottle of Coke but I screeched, “THAT’S FROM GREECE, YOU ASSHOLE!” I’ll probably dust it off here at some point.

I also found one of my journals and the first page I flipped to was from June of 2006 where I was writing about a fight (pick one) that Henry and I were having and he stopped and said, “ANSWER THIS FOR ME: DO YOU EVEN STILL WANT TO BE IN THIS RELATIONSHIP” and I wrote all this self-absorbed shit about how I didn’t really care either way but how would I be able to pay my bills if we broke up?

(For the record, my answer today would be OMG HENRY DON’T LEAVE ME.)

And then Henry found a bunch of my old address labels from when I was HEAVY into penpalling.

“‘Ace‘?” Henry asked, holding them up for me to see.

“Yeah, that’s when I was a tennis player. Duh Henry.”

“‘No preps or posers‘?” he continued, ending with a mumbled “Oh my god.”

He’s just upset that he didn’t know me then, that’s all. And then he found a picture of a couple and read the back.

“Oksana and Bob? Who are they?” And before he even showed me the picture, I knew that it was my much-older pen pal Bob  (a 40-something-year-old man writing to a 13-year-old girl, nothing to see here) and his Russian mail order bride, Oksana. Bob was kind of dull so we didn’t write to each for very long. (He was no Eddy, that’s for sure.)

********

On Sunday, I was sitting on the couch pretending to rest because I was sick, when I started staring at one of the smaller walls that has always, almost for as long as I have lived here (since 1999, omg), held a large portrait of Robert Smith. It’s always bothered me because it’s so plain, but I didn’t want to paint it another color, because it’s adjacent to the gray accent wall that Henry just slaved over.

I chose gray because there are approximately 702374028375489023456 different colors in our living room alone. Sometimes Henry will mutter about all of the colors and have you been to my house? Someone once said it looked like a Crayola box had exploded in it. Thanks for the compliment, friend.

This is me in my bedroom in 1996. I have always loved to be surrounded by color! That room was like sleeping inside of a Spencer’s. I had strands of novelty lights and lava lamps everywhere, and my wallpaper was foiled. FOILED! 

Then it hit me: lyrics. I would paint lyrics to a Cure song on the wall and then hang Robert up like the God that he is, so his words would surround him.

“I’m going to paint lyrics on the wall,” I said casually to Henry.

“OK,” he hesitantly answered. “Which ones?”

“Same Deep Water As You,” I said in my DUH voice. Because DUH, Henry. That’s only like my favorite Cure song ever.

He shrugged and said OK and then went back to what he was doing. I forget what it was, other than it was something I told him to do.

“Well, you have to draw the lines for me!” I cried. Because I need lines. Otherwise, those words are going to slant right on up to the ceiling.

I guess he thought I meant, “Take your time, we don’t need to do this right now” but then he saw me standing there, tapping my foot and holding a pencil, so he sighed and came over with his level.

I wrote the lyrics, freehand, with a pencil and then went over with black paint and a brush. My hand felt AMAZING the next day, you guys. Like the hand of someone who just learned how to masturbate, ugh.

The lyrics start right below the ceiling and run all the way down to the floor. It’s all finished except for the last two lines, which I plan on doing tonight after work. (My right hand just spasmed as I typed that.) I will post again when it’s complete.

After that’s finished, we have approximately 58 other things to tackle and did I mention that I started all of these projects one week before people are coming over for a post-Thanksgiving game night? We are literally stepping over piles of furniture, paint cans and stuff. I DO LOVE A GOOD HUSTLE.

*******

Here is the song that’s on my wall, IN CASE YOU ARE INTERESTED.

Last night, right as I was falling asleep, “Jackie Blue” came on the radio. Do you know this song? It’s old, like from the SEVENTIES OMG, and it’s by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. I have been obsessed with this song since high school so as soon as it started playing, I cried, “JACKIE BLUE FUCK YEAH!” and started dancing in bed which is something that Henry totally LOVES when he’s already sleeping, but who cares.

“This song makes me think of when I was 17 and went through a phase where I wore shoelaces as headbands!” I laughed, but Henry just mumbled some sleep-stifled sentiment into his pillow, so since he didn’t care to listen to my stories, I am ready to shoot them from my fingertips like smoking words from a phalanges-cannon. His loss is your gain, Blog a/k/a My One True Friend.

• Back when I was 17 and wearing shoelaces in my hair, Lisa and I used to frequent a pool hall called Cue and Cushion. I’m really not sure how this all began, and for as much time as we spent there, we never really got good. Every time I would ever get a ball in the pocket, I would make an obnoxious gesture toward the pocket and say, “Skilllllllls” while every one else would groan, “Shit shot.” There was this one guy we befriended and I can’t remember his name but I can see him very clearly in my mind, especially how his face went from friendly to “You are dead to me” when he expressed interest and I was like, “I am dating a psychopathic fire-starter whom I love very much and will never betray!” Which was actually true. I never cheated on Mike once, yet he would constantly accuse me of. Also, I remember him being in his 20s and I was saving my cradle for Henry to rob at a later date, obviously. BUT I DIGRESS. I would ask Lisa if she remembers his name, but I’m lucky that she even remembers being friends with me back then, let alone some random pool shark’s name.
  • I have a photo of myself with this guy and I’m wearing a striped velour shirt that I bought from Contempo after it changed from Contempo Casuals but before it became Wet Seal. I’m wearing that shirt under overalls because that’s how I did it back in 1997, holla.
    • Speaking of photos, Lisa and I hung out at Cue and Cushion so often (and were probably the youngest people there on most nights), that we became friends with the proprietor, Lou, who hung our senior pictures up on her bulletin board.
• Thinking of Lou got me remembering all of the other mom-types that loved me and Lisa back in the day, like Maryann from Denny’s, who kept a picture of me on her key chain (Henry rolled his eyes at this) and then there was a broad who worked at a diner that we called Home Cookin’ because that’s the generic name that was on the outside of it (it was in a shopping center) but really it was called Russitano’s. We NEVER called it that but then when I met Henry, it turned out his mom knew a bunch of the waitresses there and he would correct me every time I called it Home Cookin’. Probably because he couldn’t stand that he wasn’t included in my antics back then and hearing me calling it Home Cookin’ forced him to think about me having a life that GOD FORBID didn’t include him. Anyway, I can’t remember that lady’s name, but she used to let us go behind the counter and get our own drink refills. God, I miss that. I think it eventually changed to the Plaza Cafe, back when I was 19 and getting grilled blueberry muffins and coleslaw with the aforementioned Psycho Mike and then it moved down the street and now it’s something else but it seems to rarely be open so why bother.
  • And then all of this made me think of the disgusting amount of time my friends and I spent at various diners but mostly Denny’s and how the hell did they never kick us out when all we were ordering was coffee and essentially loitering.
    • One of my favorite Denny’s memories was going there for dinner with Brian, Chooch’s godfather, when we were…20? 21? He saw someone he knew sitting at a booth across the restaurant, so he told our waitress to send that table the sampler platter and to put it on Brian’s check. Because that’s the Denny’s equivalent of sending over a bottle of champagne at a classy restaurant, I guess. Brian spent the rest of our time there waiting and waiting for some acknowledgement from his friend, but then later, some kid that we knew from high school stopped by on his way out and thanked Brian for the nice gesture. The waitress had delivered it to the wrong table and Brian was SO PISSED but I was dying. Then, when we were walking through the parking lot of my apartment complex afterward, Brian tripped over a speed bump and I cried, “THIS IS THE BEST NIGHT OF ALL TIME!” Probably we went inside and sent Janna fake emails from a fictional man named Tyree, because that’s what we did for funtimes back then. I mean, I would never anything like that now.
    • Speaking of coffee, it’s funny to think about how we would go to actual diners and restaurants (like Denny’s and Eat n Park) when we wanted to hang out and have coffee with friends. There were no Starbucks or really any other coffee houses in the suburbs where I grew up that I can think of, aside from Gloria Jean’s in the mall. Which leads me to my next topic…
• Ever since I had Dark Matter coffee at Riot Fest, I have been straight feenin’ for it. I finally buckled and bought a bag of the Mastodon-collaborated coffee, Black Blood. It’s a limited release and aged in Basil Hayden’s Bourbon Whiskey barrels. I’ve been in a Keurig rut for YEARS so this inspired me (Henry) to get off my (his) ass and buy a french press. My first cup of that steaming Black Blood reminded me that Keurig’s K-Cups are essentially the mp3s of the coffee scene, and I’ve gone back to vinyl, you guys. I’m just sorry that I was led astray for so long. Convenience, etc.
• Long-time readers might remember Eleanore, an older broad I used to work with at another job. I found her on Facebook about a year ago, but then I forget all about it until over the weekend, when I fell down the Old Job rabbit hole on Facebook. You know what I’m talking about: you find one person on FB that you used to work and then suddenly you’re scouring their friend list for other co-workers and then you accidentally send friend requests and it’s a whole big thing. Anyhow, I was reminded of Eleanore’s Facebook presence so I was scrolling through her shit and hearing her voice in my head reading all of her status updates out loud and then DYING at the amount of times TINA (OMG TINA HAHAHAHAHA) has posted to her wall saying “Hello dear friend, I miss” but in Tina-type, it’s more like “Hekjllo Dar friend i mis u.” Anyway…it turns out, and this is not funny at all, that Eleanore had a stroke two years and is no longer working. She seems to have bounced back, but that is still really sad and scary. I ended up having a dream last night that I went to visit her under the pretense of caring about her but in reality, I knew that she had three wheelchairs in her house and I wanted to buy one from her. OK, fine, I’ll tell you the truth: at first in my dream, my intent was to STEAL ONE. I have only stolen something once in my life and it was magnet made out of peanut shells that I took from Lechter’s, a home goods store that used to be in the mall. I was around 4 or 5 and I fucking swear to god, I was so racked with guilt after that, that I don’t even take pennies from Take a Penny trays at gas stations, even if I need one. OK, back to my dream. So I was going to steal one of these beautiful wheelchairs similar to the blue one I already have, but then I woke up in real life and forced myself to go back to sleep so that I could finish the dream by offering to buy one. I don’t know if I was successful, because then I was eating an ice cream cone that I didn’t like so my friend Jeannie let me have her ice cream cone, which was PEACH MELBA, so when I woke up this morning, my first thought was, “Wow, I forgot how much I used to love peach melba ice cream when I was a kid.”

And I will end this with a picture of me and Lisa at Denny’s (of which I have many).

(Pictures. Not Denny’s.)

Or: I’m not feeling like typing words today.

Brief summary, tho: the new Punk Goes Pop compilation just came out and while I’m not super into these comps, there are actually a few tracks I like a lot this time around. (And then you have the jumbled mess that Slaves made of Sweater Weather. What a great song for that merry band of misogynists to shit all over. That’s awful even by Kidz Bop standards.)

(I wish Dance Gavin Dance had covered Sweater Weather instead. With Tilian.)

The standout track for me is State Champs’ cover of Zedd’s “Stay the Night.” I love the original so much (full disclosure: I can’t listen to that song without crying, every.damn.time) and State Champs added their own sound to it while STILL making me get choked up at the gasoline part.

“Stay the Night” can stay on my radio.

I know that Circa Survive and I go, like, way back and all, but this morning I was listening to their new single on repeat while getting ready for work something happened; a haze was lifted and it was like hearing them with virgin ears. I found myself holding my breath and almost dragged the mascara wand past my lashes and down my cheek.

All I could think was, “WHY ARE THEY NOT SELLING OUT ARENAS?” Don’t get me wrong: I selfishly love that I get to see them in intimate venues, but goddamn, this world is clearly being deprived of sweet, sweet music.

Every time I wanted to throat-punch a bitch today, I closed my eyes and thought of the second shelf of my curio cabinet, where I gently lay my concert tickets when they arrive in the mail, and how one of those tickets is for an upcoming Circa show in Philly this December which I am attending with my friends Terri and Christian and I could honestly just cry tears of joy right now. This is what has been saving bitches’ throats today.

(Also, Pianos Become the Teeth is opening that show and I am nearly equally as stoked to see them too because they blew my mind at Riot Fest and their new album is like WHAAAAT ARE YOU KIDDING ME so good. “Repine” honestly makes tears spring to the forefront of my eyeballs and I don’t even bother to fight it. Weeping feels so good sometimes.

)

Henry and I had a date on September 27th. Of course, it was doing something that only I wanted to do, but he surprisingly didn’t try even once to get out of it. I think he’s losing his will, you guys.

He’s got no fight left in him.

Our date was a night of music that Henry only has a marginal dislike for at the Smiling Moose. I think he was OK with it because the Smiling Moose has a lot of beer that he likes, plus we were eating there too — something for him, something for me. After 13 years, I’m finally learning about compromise.

Yeah right! I love the Smiling Moose just as much. They typically have more than one variety of cider and their food menu always has veg options. That night, I got an amazing grilled cheese with apples and caramelized onions and Havarti…just the most perfect pre-show food. So good. I had candied onion sauce dripping down my wrist and my second glass of cider had me convinced that it was OK to lick it right off myself like I’m some fucking wild animal, post-kill in Africa.

Henry had a panini, maybe? No, that doesn’t sound like Henry. Probably just a burger. And he was mad because I ordered a beer for him that he knew he wasn’t going to like but was too weird to tell the bartender that.

Also, my favorite bartender was working.

By the time we ventured upstairs for the show, the first band was nearly done. They were local and I never caught their name, but I liked them a lot. The singer/guitarist had gingery Coheed and Cambria hair and was just a complete a psychopath up there, crashing into the wall and engaging the small crowd.

(Best/worst thing about Smiling Moose shows: always a small crowd. This is great for me because I can get super close without worrying about dying, but it’s sad in the respect that these amazing bands are here playing for next to no one. Sometimes I forget that some of the music I like is just not really popular at all.)

Their bassist was a girl that never moved or smiled. I kept seeing her walking around throughout the night and she was blanker than Henry’s shirts. I think the crazy singer might have been her boyfriend, and if so, wow what a strange coupling.

The second band that played was Save Us From the Archon, also local. I’ve followed them for quite some time on Facebook, so I was stoked to finally see them. Henry was like, “Oh great, one of those non-singing bands.”

So the three main bands on the Blue Swan Tour were Hail the Sun, Stolas, and Icarus the Owl. There’s this whole sub-genre/movement of post-hardcore that has been growing over the last few years, and I really believe that Dance Gavin Dance spearheaded it. And actually, the Blue Swan record label belongs to Will Swan of DGD. So now there’s like this entire family of bands that share a similar sound and they’re all friends and they’re all awesome. And that’s really all you need to know about that.

The reason I was there that night was Icarus the Owl. I’ve had a mild interest in them for awhile, but after seeing them last July with Artifex Pereo, it was all heart-eyes for days. They were just so good and fun to watch! So when i saw that they were coming here, I told Henry we were going and he just bowed his head because he has no argument anymore. Man, they opened with “Blackfish” and I was like FUCK YES and Henry was like IDGAF and the singer from that first band rushed the stage in a very THAT’S MY JAM!!! fashion. If anyone in that room had been nodding off prior to this, they were wide awake now.

These guys have quickly moved their way into my Top 10.

I was forced to talk to the singer, Joey, later on when I went over to buy a t-shirt. I get so fucking weird about meeting bands. Even when I was a super slut and majorly outgoing, I would still clam up around certain bands because I hold so many of them on such a high level. So I get a little awe-struck around them, OK? Sue me. Anyway, first I was like, “Hi I would like that shirt there in a medium” and then while he rummaged around for it in a big Tupperware bin, I rehearsed something substantial to say, and when he turned back around with my second choice t-shirt, I faked enough confidence to say, “You guys are the main reason we’re here tonight.” He put his hand across his chest and said, “Aw, thank you so much!” and it was super genuine, I could tell. There was good eye contact. Not like when I would try to tell Jonny Craig how much his music touched me and he would stare off over my shoulder and make no attempt to even pretend to smile or be grateful.

“We saw you guys a few months ago in Cleveland with Artifex Pereo,” I said without stuttering—what a feat! “You guys should tour with them forever!”

“Oh, we just love them so much!” Joey gushed. “They’re really good friends of ours! They’re actually on tour right now with Emery and—–” Joey paused, trying to remember.

“Norma Jean,” I offered. “That tour sadly isn’t coming here,” and then I made some stupid exaggerated sad-face which I wish I could go back in time and take back.

After Joey asked for our names and shook our hands (like Henry even deserved the acknowledgment!), he gave me some wristbands and then I pretty much ran away.

“What did you say to him?” Henry asked when we reclaimed our spots near the stage.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!” I cried. But then I told him because I wanted to know how lame I sounded. Henry just shrugged and said it was fine. I’m learning how to talk to people, OK GUYS?! Step off.

All of this happened after Stolas played. Stolas was the only band that I didn’t know too much about, other than Jonny Craig was featured on one of their older songs. They were GOOD, you guys. I liked the faces the singer made every time he screamed; it was like twisted anguish. So emotive and raw, just like their music. I think my favorite part was when Donovan from Hail the Sun jumped up on stage (after he was standing right next to me!) and sang with them and everyone’s heads exploded, except for Henry who was just like, “OK.”

And then Hail the Sun. This was the third time we’ve seen them (and apparently the third time they’ve been to Pittsburgh so we’re like accidental super-fans, I guess). Once was with Dance Gavin Dance and the second time was on one of Jonny Craig’s solo tours. The first time I saw them was also the first time I had heard them, and while I liked their sound, they never really became a band that carved its way into my playlist. But lately, I had been listening to them, REALLY LISTENING TO THEM, and even though Henry was like, “We’re leaving after Icarus the Owl, right?” I was finding myself getting increasingly more stoked for them to start playing.

Their singer Donovan is also their drummer, JUST LIKE PHIL COLLINS AND GENESIS OMG. But Donovan occasionally will abandon his set to take center stage and really fucking sing and I like when that happens because he makes Crazy Eyes while he’s up there and that is also how I noted that he resembles Breakfast Club-era Judd Nelson, an observation with which Henry vehemently disagreed.

I will leave you with this video of snippets. (Unfortunately, I forgot to get a sample of Stolas. I really don’t like being That Person who is holding up her phone all night!)

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

The next day, some guys started hearting all of my Instagram pictures and videos from the show, and then he started following me. “I was there too!” he commented on one of my videos and Henry was like, “THANK GOD MAYBE YOU HAVE A FRIEND TO GO TO SHOWS WITH NOW.”

But then the guy’s profile said he’s only 14 and I don’t know guys, that might be too young. LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE IT, HENRY.

The truth is, I have purposely been putting off writing the last installment of Riot Fest, because it feels like once I write it, then that’s it: Riot Fest is truly over. The whole weekend was so perfect to me, especially coming off the tail end of a summer that was emotionally draining, just a total black spot on the year. Maybe it seems like I’m being overly-dramatic, god knows that’s basically my default, but I’m serious when I say that my three days at Humboldt Park felt like a religious retreat, in the same way that some people climb mountains to escape their past, cast out their demons in sweat lodges, or rail a quadstack off a hooker’s ass in the back of a 1984 Pinto.

This is how I heal.

The whole weekend was a collection of experiences and heart-clutching moments, stepping stones that paved the way to the culmination of my catharsis: The Cure.

As I mentioned in my last Riot Fest post, The Cure was scheduled to play the main stage at 7:45, so we made our way over there during Patti Smith’s 5:45 set in hopes of getting a decent spot.

My expectations were low. I even told Henry that I didn’t care if we ended up across the park by the food trucks. As long as I could hear The Cure (and not shitty Weezer who were going to be playing at the same time on a smaller stage), I was fine. Besides, I had been dragging Henry around like a rag doll all weekend, and I knew he probably wouldn’t want to be standing stock-still in the middle of 50,000 people at the end of the day.

Except that Henry grabbed my hand and pulled me further into the crowd during Patti’s set. Every time even the smallest gap would open ahead of us, he would continue to squeeze us in. And he kept doing this until we finally hit a wall of unbudging people. Still, I was impressed with his determination and how far it got us, so I wasn’t complaining!

After Patti was over at 6:45, people began leaving the Riot Stage, which opened up more spots, so Henry once again tgook  my hand and started weaving us closer to the stage. He got us to a really great spot, about 50 heads back from the stage. This was pretty remarkable, considering most people had been standing there all day in order to get a close spot.

Don’t tell him this, but Henry was kind of my hero that night.

Social Distortion began playing on the stage adjacent to us and I was so thankful that we got to listen a decent band for the next hour, because I was so full of anxiety waiting for The Cure, that I couldn’t imagine adding shitty music on top of that. Also during this time, we made friends with the people around us, like an older couple (Henry’s age, probably, haha) from St. Louis. The wife was really kind to me and even offered to take the above picture of me and Henry, which is why he’s smiling — because a stranger is taking the picture. She reminded me a little bit of my friend Natasha, who is also a rabid Cure fan, and I think that’s why I liked her so much.

The view behind me. 

The only downside while waiting was the two middle-aged assholes in front of me, who spent the whole wait loudly talking about how they’re such seasoned music festival attendees, and how they saw The Cure last year at ACL and then the one guy, the one who was wearing a huge professional backpack that jutted so far from his back that it kept hitting me in the face, extracted a video camera with an extension stick thing and I was just like, “Oh great. And he’s a rock documentarian, too.”

I don’t think that’s a word.

Then they started making a big deal about passing a joint back and forth, like LOOK AT US, WE’RE OLD AND STILL SMOKE POT! and I honestly had to cup my hands in front of face in case I needed to catch my eyeballs when they rolled out of my head.

When I heard of one them mention Weezer’s upcoming set, it all made sense to me. Weezer fans. Of course.

My new friend from St. Louis pulled me closer to her so that dildo’s backpack wouldn’t hit me in the face anymore, and I thanked her profusely.

She was also extremely good at blocking people from getting in front of us once The Cure started. We worked hard for our spots way before The Cure came on! You can’t expect to wait until after they start playing and just steamroll your way  through. Bitch, you gotta work for that shit.

I like Social D just fine, but when they were still playing “Ring of Fire” at 7:45, I was like, “I FUCKING HATE YOU SOCIAL D! STFU! GO HOME!” And then Mike Ness kept screaming, “ONE MORE TIME!” and the crowd over at that stage would sing the fucking chorus ONE MORE TIME and it was so obnoxious and we were all getting super agitated.

So they went a few minutes over. It wasn’t the worst thing ever, but that was like an entire extra song that The Cure have played at the end of the night!

But as soon as the last note of “Ring of Fire” petered off into the air, the lights on the Riot Stage came on and the most beautiful sounds to ever have been crafted enveloped us all in such warm beauty. And then Robert walked on the stage and my hands flung up to my chest and basically stayed there for the next two hours, along with the burning lump in my throat and the stinging tears in my eyes.

The Cure, you guys. The motherfucking Cure. This was my fifth time, but it might as well have been my first. Seeing them will never lose its value to me.

I have never been the type of person who could separate herself from the show unfurling in front of her long enough to keep track of the set list. Luckily, I knew that Chain of Flowers (the best Cure fansite in the world) would have me covered.

• Open
• Fascination Street
• Sleep When I’m Dead
• Push
• Inbetween Days
• Play For Today
• A Forest
• Before Three
• Lovesong
• Just Like Heaven
• From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea
• alt.end
• Pictures of You
• Lullaby
• Close To Me
• Hot Hot Hot
• Wrong Number
• The Caterpillar
• The Walk
• Mint Car
• Friday I’m In Love
• Doing the Unstuck
• Bananafishbones
• Want
• Hungry Ghost
• One Hundred Years
• End.

We were this close! Not bad for waiting until 6PM to stake out a spot!

Around 8:30, the idiots in front of me (who acted all smug as  they recounted all the times they’ve seen The Cure and the proceeded to just stand there like lumps once the show started…some fans they are) got their Riot Fest alert on their phones that OMG WEEZER was about to start over on the Revolt Stage, so they turned around and began pushing their way out of the crowd. I cheered and then moved up into their vacated spots, which came with a better view of my beloved Robert Smith.

Aside from those Weezer dorks, we were surrounded by true Cure fans. Those who knew all the words, knew to thrust their hands upward when Robert sang, “Put your hands in the sky” during From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea, and who didn’t engage in banal discourse with their friends. I know that if we had stayed in the back, I would have been miserable and forced to listen to drunk assholes scream to each other about sports and god knows what else. Just like the miserable time I saw them at miserable Coachella, where drunk frat boys screamed out, “Play Just Like Heaven, Fat Bob!

” and then booed every time deeper cuts were played instead. Fucking Americans. The Cure graces our country with their presence and this is how they’re treated. Coachella will always have such a sour connotation to me. The hipsters can have it.

I can’t think of a better way this weekend could have ended. My favorite band in the whole entire world with my favorite person in the whole entire world (ugh fine, I’m referring to Henry and not Robert Smith). There’s no one else I would have rather experienced this with, no one else who understands how much this band and this music means to me.

When we first started to get to know each other back in 2000/2001, before we were dating, Henry made me a Cure screensaver. Totally out of the blue. I was like, “OK. You have my attention.” I know that The Cure headlining this festival is without a doubt the reason Henry didn’t say no to me.

And he actually said that this was his favorite part of Riot Fest and not because it signified that the end was near.

He even displayed moderate levels of PDA throughout the night by placing his hands on my back!

From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea – Chicago, Riot Fest 14-Sep-2014 from itsaperfectday on Vimeo.

Thank you to this person ^^^ for recording this because my heart felt like it was about to combust inside my rib cage during this one. One of my all-time favorites, ow ow ow. 

There was supposed to have been an encore, but they ran out of time. Thanks, Social Distortion.

Even though I think this was the shortest of the 5 Cure concerts I’ve been to (clocked in at just over 2 hours), I have to say this one ranks #2 on my list. Right under Canberra, Australia for the Bloodflowers tour. It was the perfect crowd, the perfect ambiance, the perfect company and the perfect weekend. What else can I really say about it, short of copy/pasting every synonym for “heaven” and “perfect” and “emo” and “STFU Erin, we get it.”

****

“You know what would have made that weekend even more perfect?” I asked Henry on the way back to Pittsburgh the next day. “If you had proposed to me during The Cure. Way to go, you blew it.”

Because even during moments of extreme, euphoric perfection, I still manage to find the flaws. But I wouldn’t be me otherwise. Right?

RIGHT?!

And here are some pumpkin spice bullet points!

• Hey, speaking of pumpkin spice, I’ve divorced that shit for maple. I mean, I still love savory pumpkin things (Henry just made an amazing pumpkin soup last week), but I’m kind of like, “Get the fuck over yourself, pumpkin spice.” Especially latte-wise. It’s maple or nothing for me these days. I see that Starbucks has jumped on the maple latte train, but they can GTFO because their maple latte is an embarrassment to the hot tree-nectar I had in New Hampshire last year.
  • I’m still trying to find a pumpkin beer that I can drink without cringing though.
• I cut my hair the other night. Not drastically, but about a good inch. (Just my longer layers.) I was just sitting there alone, the only one still awake in the house, and I started to feel an anxiety attack coming on and when that happens, there are a few things that help: ripping up papers, breaking glass, or cutting hair. I opted for the hair, because I didn’t have any papers on hand that weren’t Chooch’s and I didn’t feel like cleaning up glass.
  • God, there is something so cathartic about hearing scissors crunch and slice a chunk of dry hair.
  • The next day, I texted Henry and told him I cut my hair. “I know,” he replied. “I unclogged the sink.”
    • Nothing toes the line between bohemian bourgeois and mental patient quite like cutting your own hair.
  • The only people who have noticed have been all boys.

• It was picture day for Chooch yesterday and he was mad that I made him wear his cat bowtie, which he’s worn before but I guess picture day is a different story. I’ll know for certain when we get the pictures back if that little jerk kept it on or not!
  • Speaking of Chooch, he joined chorus. The first song they’re learning is America the Beautiful, but when he sang it to us, it was to the tune of O, Christmas Tree. Because that is his default tune, apparently. (Honestly, he uses that tune anytime he doesn’t know what else to do.)
• Sometimes in the morning when I take the trolley to work, there is this guy on there who is DISGUSTINGLY SICK. I mean, this has been going on for weeks now, like maybe he should be in an infirmary somewhere, I don’t know. He’s just a regular-looking thirty-something businessman who just happens to be drowning and choking on his snot every single day of his life, I guess. The days that we’re on the same trolley together, I usually spend the whole trip texting Henry in all capital letters because I am so repulsed and this is ALL HENRY’S FAULT and this is also totally why I ended up getting sick last week too! Anyway, this guy does the same thing in a cycle, for the whole trip: really moist, mucous-y cough followed by what sounds identical to snorting wet gravel and then noisily SWALLOWING IT. Oh you guys, it makes me so angry and yes, I have shot him dirty looks because MAYBE STAY HOME IF YOU’RE THAT SICK. Or learn how to blow your disgusting nose, you fucking cockpig.
• On Monday, I had to pee really bad but when I got to the bathroom, my zipper was stuck so I had to go into Wendy’s office and have her unzip me. And then I was like “DON’T LOOK!” and she was like, “I’m not looking, you idiot!”

• Kara met me downtown after work on Tuesday and we went to Butcher and the Rye for dinner and drinks but really just drinks. I am suddenly really into beets and they have a beet salad there so Kara got stoked about that too and we both ordered it but were pretty disappointed at the ironic lack of beets. I mean, there were SOME but definitely not $10 worth. The drinks made up for it, even though my first one had scotch in it and Kara said, “I have never been able to like scotch” and then I said out loud, “You know, I have no idea if I like scotch either.” Turns out, no. No, I don’t really like it. “This tastes like meat,” I said. And then Kara, who has known me for quite some time now, understood that to mean that my drink tasted smoky.
  • My second drink was a ramos gin fizz and basically this is all I want to drink now. Maple latte, who?
  • Kara had a crush on the bartender and was sad that he didn’t talk to us more. Not even when she was half-slung across the bar, staring at him with googly eyes. :(
• I cried so much while watching Gracepoint and the Red Band Society that I actually wondered if I was pregnant.
  • (I’m not.)
• This morning while getting ready for work, I heard on the radio that Mike + the Mechanics are doing a 30th anniversary tour and I got abnormally excited about this. I called Henry 8934897263 times to tell him but he ignored my call 8934897263 times so then I texted him in all capital letters and then he FINALLY called me back and when I told him, he calmly asked, “When is it?” and I yelled, “MARCH 13TH CAN WE GO!?!??” He was like, “I don’t know! It’s only Oct—-” and then I hung up.
  • My Pappap had the Living Years cassette in his car and several times, he mentioned to me that that song reminded him of his father. After my Pappap died in ’96, I would sometimes listen to “The Living Years” just to make myself feel even more pain. I still can’t hear that song without getting a burning lump in my throat and doing an ugly-cry.
  • “Silent Running,” tho.

• A few months ago, I had a strong desire to play Clue but then I bitched about how badly I hate the new version of it. I hate board game updates! Good thing I ended up not spending $25 on one that I hate, because I found this old ass version at the flea market last weekend! For $3!! It smells like mad men!
  • Also at the flea market, in the span of about 5 seconds, Chooch asked for a cat figurine and shot gun. And we all know he’s not going to be shooting the cat figurine.
• OMGOMGOMG the freakiest thing happened to me last night! So a few months ago, my friend Kristy asked for volunteers to be a part of her costume for this year’s Zombie Fest. I said yes before I even knew what the costume was, because Kristy is awesome. Turns out, it’s the Golden Girls! I get to be Rose (the only non-zombie one, so let’s pray that this doesn’t jinx the universe and if it does, BLAME KRISTY!) and of course I waited until a week before to go out and look for a Rose Nylund-esque dress. Last night at Goodwill, I snapped a picture of one that seemed acceptable and texted it to Kristy who said, yes, it was very Rose-worthy. So right when I was taking it up to the register, this happened:

Seriously, Henry and I just stopped and stared at each other like WTFFFF and then I was fumbling for my phone because I knew there’d be at least one INSTAVID OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN. I’m not kidding though, my hands were shaking. What are the odds?!!? I think this was only the second time in my life that I heard any version of this song outside of a television set.

• When Henry texts “inside the grocery store” I assumed he really means “inside the greasy whore” BECAUSE HE’S CHEATING ON ME ISN’T HE.
• Last night, I saw previews for a new MTV reality show called Slednecks about ASSHOLES WHO LIVE IN ALASKA. Et tu, MTV?! All this Alaskan shit on the TV is killing me.

• Marcy is still my BFF, in case you were wondering.
• That time I couldn’t remember the spider’s name in Charlotte’s Web.
• Glenn fans: I made Glenn laugh 4 times today. Like, really laugh and not that annoyed scoff that he typically does! Having a newborn in the house is clearly making him delirious. I mean, we even googled “urns” together today. That’s a lot of interaction for us.
  • One of the times he laughed really hard was when he asked me if I go to a certain Pat Catan’s (craft store) and I said “No, I don’t like that one” and he was like, “What, why? It’s new and so big.” “I just get bad vibes there,” I shrugged, which is actually a pretty serious thing but he LAUGHED like it was was the quirkiest thing he had ever heard.

• Started putting up some of Halloween decorations at work today! Mean Amber and Glenn are thrilled. Amber said that Champion Materia Morticia book smells really bad SO DON’T SMELL IT if you come over here.
  • I have so much more work to do.
• Tell me something about yourself!

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!!!!!)