Standing in line alone, listening to the cold wind whisper isn't as lonely as one might think. I had been debating greatly on whether or not I was gonna come to the show tonight ; the main thing holding me back was the sketchy area that the venue was located at. Did I really wanna go home at 11:00pm and risk running into some crazy homeless guy? "Ah fuck it", I thought to myself. The Rickshaw Stop sat right in the middle of Fell St, it's walls invaded with purple tentacles and flying eyeballs made it hard to miss if you were looking for it. Most venues would seem to accumulate a line about an hour or half an hour before the show but not the Rickshaw Stop. As a matter of fact, I was first in line which rarely happens for me. This was my first show I had been to since moving to San Francisco, I was excited to say the least. I had been listening to GØGGS for the past couple of days to familiarize myself with their debut album. I had seen Ty Segall play twice before this : once at The Echo in 2014 and another time at Teragram Ballroom at the beginning of this year. Both times he did not disappoint so I entered into the Rickshaw Stop with high expectations. I sat there patiently scanning the room until the show started. Examining the crowd Saying nothing they immediately jump right into their first song. The setlist of all the bands for that night have currently escaped my mind. Scraper set the stage though with some hard songs. The song that stood out in their set was a new song titled Misery. The crowd seemed to be pretty enthused about the band but you could tell that they were conserving their energy for something spectacular. A serious tone definitely laid awake within their lyrics. Sitting there observing you could tell each song told a small story of their lives ; an honesty in their lyrics. Scraper left the stage leaving me fulfilled until GØGGS would take the
Ten minutes after lining up, I went inside the nightclub. From the door, I could hear the song and the beat of the bass so loud that my heart could feel it. Inside the nightclub, I saw people were dancing everywhere, on dancing floor, on their own seats, everywhere. They would dance and take a big gulp of their beer. Even the bartenders were dancing too, following the rhythm of the loud funky music. The rainbow rays of light moved through the club to make the mood even more exciting and funky.
opening band appeared. At this time, there were not very many people in the audience.
I chose to do my concert critique on Eric Clapton-MTV unplugged full concert-HQ January 16, 1992 at Bray Film Studios in Windsor, England. Eric Clapton is my favorite rock n roll singer which has a mixture of genres. The concert was inside and on stage. The audience was seated up close to the stage which made the atmosphere comfortable; Eric and the band showed much warmth and connected with the crowd it wasn’t like the band was untouchable.
Standing in line at 9:13am the first person there all alone. But I did not feel alone. The glow of the pool illuminated by the first rays of sunshine reflecting off of it. As I stood at the main entrance, outside of this enormous building waiting for the 120 seconds that had to pass before I entered this structure immersed in my people’s history.
The show opening was not your normal “seating lights off, stage lights on, start the show”...
As an intern for a television station, I see firsthand how strangely some people behave when you point a camera at them. Once, when I accompanied the camera crew to a local mall, we had trouble interviewing the manager because of all the teenagers who stood behind him, waving, grinning, and yelling out comments as if he or she were the reason the cameras were there. Among my favorite assignments is street interviews. When the interviewer tries to stop someone on the street to ask them a question, some people just shake their heads and walk on. Other people look at their shoes and mumbles the briefest possible answer. There is always at least one-star quality interviewee who looks directly into the camera and gives a polished answer that sounds
Just before sunrise, on Oct. 12, 2003, the residents of Argyle Road in Brooklyn were woken by gunfire.
“Hello. Welcome to the show. We are the band R.E.M. (as you know). It is great to be back in (your city name here). Are you ready to rock and roll? Great. “It lingers for a few moments, then turns to black. A dark figure meanders to the front-center of the stage. A light flicks on, coming from behind the figure, creating a silhouette. Three others walk out, each picking up an instrument. One steps onto a large platform, sitting behind the drums. An orange light in the front turns on, slowly increasing in intensity. The figures, now lit, are easily identified. From left to right: Mike Mills (bass), Michael Stipe (voice), Peter Buck(guitar), and Bill Berry(drums). Stipe is wearing a white suit with black eye shadow, his eyes appearing as bottomless pits. He is holding a megaphone in his right hand, and he purposefully strides to the microphone. “This one goes out…to the Exxon corporation”, he declares, and the r...
Little did I know at the time, but this was going to be the longest bus ride of my life. A bus ride that was going to take me halfway across the state of California, it was going to feel like I was traveling through the last four years of my troubled teen life.
Once I let my thoughts return to the music, I knew what lie ahead of me. I tapped the nearest "big guy" on the shoulder and pointed towards the ceiling; the universal signal on the concert floor. He nodded, grabbed my foot, and pushed me on top of the crowd. Once I was up there was no turning back. Soon strong hands were surfing me towards the stage. I had the best view in the house and reveled in the moment. I was fueled by an adrenaline rush that was only heightened by the fusion of the music and the energy of the crowd.
As the dark stadium filled with fire, with the sounds of guns and bombs exploding everywhere, the crazed fans yelled at the top of their lungs. The enormous stage was rumbling with the sound of a single guitar as the band slowly started their next encore performance. Soon after I realized that I was actually at the Sanitarium concert listening to Metallica play "One", I thought to my self, "Is this real, am I actually here right now?" I had a weird feeling the entire time because I had worked all summer to simply listen to music with a bunch of strangers.
After 15 minutes people were starting to get frustrated because nothing was happening. It is a good thing. Suddenly there was activity onstage and the lights dimmed. the first support band, Slam Cartel, came on. The mosh pit went wild.
I often think of Robert Frost’s phrase, “I took the road less traveled by” when brushing against dirt, rocks, or grass on a trail. While following a single stretch of a path, whether that road leads in a curve or in a straight line, I notice a myriad of branches to trails that I normally classify as detours. Is that what Robert Frost means when he says he traveled a road less traveled by others?
When the final song was over and Jars of Clay was off the stage, the lights abruptly came on. Everyone started to leave the theatre. I still wanted to hear more of their music, but just as they had come out they then left in the same way. My adrenaline was still on a high point even as we got to our vehicles.
Then audience members who were perfect strangers who were screaming loudest would turn to each other with knowing glances and smile because they were sharing the same excitement and connecting with one another over their love of this man’s music. There was no pushing or shoving to get closer to the stage – it wasn’t that kind of crowd. Instead, there was mutual respect for one another’s space within the confines of the too-small venue. Nobody wanted to be the person who ruined it for someone else. It was this respect that made the audience members’ connections with one another that much stronger – we were all here to listen to this wonderful man’s music and see his performance – and, of course, we were here to enjoy it.