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tired but happy |
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music |
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Kids Next Door |
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was freaking awesome!!!
OK. First off, I waited for Katie for, like, a half hour. S'OK though. ;-). The first band was Reigning Sound, and they were okay, but a little feedback-y. Their drummer was referred to as Kevin Bacon because of his looks, until I got a chance to yell out at the end of their set, "What's your drummer's name?" and the lead singer responded "(somethingsomething)Lance".
GO LANCE! WOO!
After a short wait, in which I overheard some kids talk about ANDY SERKIS!!! and pondered interrupting, was Sahara Hotnights. They were quite good. They had a really streamlined, mod sound to their songs, and I liked them, but this stupid 33-year-old guy kept on screaming. Yelled 'THROW UP YOUR HAND!!!!!!' in my face during one of the songs, and I laughed at him. It was funny. Annoying, but funny.
Lemme say this also: People who try to start moshing, know that you look dumb, and do it for the proper song, not just any damn song the band plays.
After they finished, there is a very long wait, in which Katy R., Christine, and Ben B. are all seen and chatted with. Saw Hernan, Tomas, and Scott too but lost them in the crowd.
Now during this time we (Katie, her sister and I) have all been inching our way closer to the front to see the Hives. For Reigning Sound, we were a bit far away, Sahara Hotnights quite close. This is because we—well, I— decide to try and avoid Stupid 33-Year-Old by moving close enough to the stage that the mosh pit will, in effect, pass us by.
And then...the lights dim, and Nicholaus Arson walks on stage and just stares at us all, blowing on his fingers (one of which is bandaged, aw) and EVERYONE AND THEIR SIXTY-YEAR-OLD-GRANDMOTHER PRESSES AS CLOSE TO THE STAGE AS POSSIBLE, and everyone's screaming their lungs out, including me. Then the rest of the band walks on stage, including PELLE ALMQVIST!! and he just whips the crowd into a frenzy, man. They haven't even played a note of their songs—Nicholaus is just playing a sort of preliminary riff and looking badass—and we're already screaming.
I don't know what it is about the Hives. For the first two bands, I was calm, normal, nodded my head a bit. Shoved the moshers back when they got close. But when Nicholaus walked on stage it was like a button was pressed in my head, and when everyone pushed Katie and I and the rest as close forward as possible, I turned into a raging, screaming, OMG!!!!!!!!!!!! fangirl.
NICHOLAUS SAW MY SIGN!!!!!! AND ACKNOWLEDGED IT POSITIVELY!!!!! OMG!!!!!!
They started playing a song off the new album, and everyone was screaming like whoa. I was pretty much pressed up against this girl, 'cept she's taller than me and wearing a spaghetti strap and so my face was forced into her sweaty back. Eww.
Speaking of sweat, my shirt now has at least 26 different people's sweat on it. I think the concert was the most I've ever sweated in my life.
OK, OK, back to the concert. So the Hives are playing, they're rockin' out, and Pelle said something—I can't remember what—but the band started playing "Main Offender", my favorite song, and I just went nuts. It was great, man, cos everyone else was going nuts with me.
Pelle also tried to crowdsurf twice. I can't remember during what songs, unfortunately, because I TOUCHED PELLE ALMQVIST!!!!!!!!! and not just a touch, either, I totally, like, grabbed his arm and touched the side of his face and stuff the first time. Everyone went mad the first time, too, so I'm surprised I touched him at all, seein' as how I was surrounded by tall people. But I did!!!!! and he was surprisingly unsweaty!!!
Second time was just a touch on the arm, but still!! Second time his face was, like, right above mine so I shoved the card that Nicholaus had 'read', that said 'fräcka bönor' (this means 'cool beans' in Swedish—don't ask1) and hoped like hell he'd read it. He must've though, since it pretty much was all up in his face. Hoped he'd take it, but I suppose he figured I'd written my number on the back or something. I hadn't—well, I'd written my dad's so that I would't forget to call him—but he didn't take it in any case. Tear. But hey—I still TOUCHED HIM!!! TWICE!!!
Damn, I wish I could remember what songs the crowdsurfing occured to. There were like seven dudes crowd surfing and each time I nearly got my glasses knocked off. Had to slam them back onto the face without losing my place in almost-front row. I actually wanted front row cos there was a breeze, not cos I wanted to jump onstage or anything. But it was tight nonetheless.
After a while I couldn't see anything well outta my glasses—just Nicholaus playing and Pelle's feet when he was standing on top of the dais the drums were on. The light was all blurry, so yeah.
In case you couldn't tell, the Hives are master showmen. Nicholaus does this thing where he gets really close to the edge and plays while opening his eyes really wide and just staring around, and this makes people go mad. Everyone (including me) stuck out their hands as if he'd stop playing to touch them, and the tall guy next to me was pointing and stuff same as I was, which I found amusing.
Pelle of course starts singing and literally bends down and gets right in your face and the crowd goes INSANE. Because there's always the chance he'll jump down and try to crowdsurf again.
Many people yelling 'I love you Pelle!!!' very faintly over the noise. But it was all about Nicholaus, my friend, cos he is HOT HOT HOT.
They finished, supposedly, then lights went off except for the sign (saying 'The Hives' in red handwrity lettering) and everyone cheered, and started stomping and clapping. But then Chris Dangerous (the drummer) walked on and just stared at everyone going nuts and calmly towelled his forehead, then, as an afterthought, threw something into the crowd. I dunno whether it was a ring or what, I honestly couldn't tell, but people went nuts. The band came back on, thankfully, and started playing again to our extreme joy. Especially since Pelle says he will in fact return to Oregon, or ORE-GAAAAAHN as he put it. He was very Southern Baptist both in the way he spoke and the way he drove everyone into a frenzy.
And then they played it.
The Hit.
"Hate to Say I Told You So".
If the dancing was bad before, it was waaaay worse then.During the punch (ASK ME ONCE I'LL ASK YOU TWICE etc.) everyone was doing that jumping thing and screaming, including me, and I was dead tired and sweaty and could barely see the band cos of my glasses, but I didn't care. It was freakin' beautiful, man.
Finally, the lights went off again and they went offstage, and we cheered and cheered and cheered. Chris came back on and stared again, even more idly wiping his brow and neck, then threw a water bottle into the crowd. After a moment of thought, he carelessly tossed the towel out too and walked off. Darkness, then the normal lights turned on.
I fell like I've woken up from a trance. I realized that I was, to use a phrase, hella sweaty. I'm sure my hair was even more of a mess than usual. Everyone else's was, anyway. Katie wrung our her shirt and I noted I had probably caught a disease. The ground was littered with trash, including someone's broken glasses frame, and I suddenly realized that I was very, very tired. Elated, but tired. I slowly walked towards the exit, wishing I could've gotten a sticker if they were free, and down the stairs to a huge group of people. Called my mom, who said my dad had been there since 10:30 (when I thought it would be over—it's 11:40 now) and I felt really bad. They said they'd called, but it was impossible to hear anything now, let alone during the concert. I saw dad outside and numbly accepted two girls' Death Cab for Cutie postcards, tried to slick down my hair, and told dad about the concert. "Feel my shirt," I said excitedly. "It was sooo hard to hear and so sweaty."
"At least you had a good time," he replied, wrinkling his nose slightly at my description. "Wow, you're probably gonna sleep till 11."
I called mom again to make sure she knew I was alright and dad drove me home. Somehow I took a shower without falling asleep, put stain remover on my shirt, as the pen from my sign bled onto it cos of all the sweat, and went to bed.
Now, it's the next day, and because I didn't bring a disposable camera and didn't have a cameraphone, I feel like it was a dream. An awesome dream, but a dream.
But I check the laundry room and sure enough my soaking wet shirt is still there.
That was seriously one of the best times I've ever had. I won't be repeating it for a while yet, but still, BEST CONCERT EVAR.
Sucks for Katie, who's doing Run Hit Wonder today, though.
I'm not sure if I'm supposed to stay here or if I've got to go somewhere today.
and speaking of, ![[info]](http://library.vu.edu.pk/cgi-bin/nph-proxy.cgi/000100A/http/web.archive.org/web/20040810050455im_/http:/=2fstat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) anarchistinde—dunno if I'm going to that thing you were talking about on the machine—I'm still really tired and not sure if my parents want me to do something today. Sorry...:-/
But in case you didn't hear it:
BEST CONCERT EVER.
edit: 12: 18 PM
Oh. Whoops. It was racoon16. Sorry 'bout that, anarchistinde.
Guess I'll call her after I call my parents.
1edit: 7:25 PM
Filip has told me 'fräcka bönor" may or may not translate more often into 'gnarly chicks'. 'Gnarly' as in 80s-word-for-cool, and also, for some reason the word for 'bean' is also slang for 'chick'.
I wish he'd said this before. Oh well.
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tired
accomplished