Show Date : May 11, 2010
Somehow we’ve managed to recombine 4 out of 7 of my old show crew together for a scene. Old friends. Haven’t had this many of us together since maybe 1995. Chris and I are already in PDX. The boys want to roll into town for a show. Can’t pass it up.
I’ve only heard one song from 30 Seconds to Mars and scope myspace to get a feel. Gotta say. I’m dubious. Like going to a dirty Chinese restaurant the first time. All the good ones I like are dirty. But if you hit a bad one. Kinda sucks. Repercussions.
We meet up at Shanghai Tunnel. I’m a little early. Messed up. Doctors orders. My issues have issues. I’m taught the wonders of a shot of flavored vodka in a weizen-based beer. Nice. Tasty. Insanely dangerous. But, a force for good in the world if used properly. Professionals.
We’re rolling now. Voodoo Donuts. It ain’t always a taste. I get a Captain Crunch. That’s what I call it anyways. On the way to the gay bar I feel my heart stop briefly. Gone like Moses. And restart. 30 Seconds to Mars, fuckers.
After something alcoholic, we circle to the show and in. During the marginally okay opener, Mutemath, I stop drinking booze. Wish Mutemath had some semi-violent songs. I know I was ready to have some fun.
Somewhere before the set, Ricker from KUFO says there’s 40 free tickets up front if we want to text a friend. The band bought them. I’m torn. I don’t know whether to feel like an idiot for paying for my own ducket, or the smug satisfaction of being in on the ground floor of the GREATEST FUCKING ROCK SHOW EVER. 30 Seconds to Mars fuckers. Wheeeeeeeeeee.
Alright. See. I was ready to give it a chance.
It was pretty bad.
After seeing this paint by numbers rock come to life, I just didn’t want to ruin my friends’ time. After the third song, I knew my only real entertainment would be my sicko self-entertaining mental games. For example. Think of the productive discussion on extra marital affairs we could have had as a country if Tiger Woods only said “just the tip isn’t cheating”. I mean, seeing ESPN coverage and the talking heads discussing if it is/isn’t extra-marital unless you bury shaft could have been the most entertaining public sexual discourse since Clarence Thomas and Long Dong Silver.
30STM. Lead singer=mohawk with pink tips. Pink driving gloves. Those pants from either CHiPs or George Washington’s army, shades with pink, and… really, who gives a fuck? You get the idea.
I’ve got to hand it to the crowd. They really like this act. They are told to jump and they fucking get on it. If Jared and company was more creative with those crowd instructions/commands/edicts we could have had something reeeeeeal, REAL sexy going on down there.
Look, I wasn’t into this shit at all. The crowd loved it. I thought it was terrible. Formulaic and lame. Who fucking cares. I wouldn’t trust me either.
I’m hanging in a corner in the mezz. A trash can is conveniently placed here.
“You drop your phone in the trash can?”
“Nah, I’m throwing up.”
“Really, me too…..downstairs.”
Fuck me, this is turning into a mess (But I get to take one beer off my do not drive before ____ tally. At least.)
My out of town buddies dug it. And, really, isn’t that all that matters? The band commands we all come to the floor for his final song, I show my back and get some fresh air. Get my head right.
We hit an educational and historical landmark that serves alcohol (props to youknowwho for going to that), and I bail early so I can be the guy who pukes in an alley (another beer off), and a parking lot (and another). Represent.
Sometimes it isn’t pretty at all. But still fun. We all only get to spin the wheel so many times, gotta make ‘em count.
Bottom line. However you feel about 30STM before going to the show…you will probably feel the same after. There is energy on the stage and the songs sound decent. Etc. Whatever.
Was fun lady and guys. Thanks!
[Disclaimer: look, I know the vomiting is ridiculous. I like to think I can hold my booze. Alot of circumstances point to either food poisoning and/or food-booze interaction, idiot alcohol mixing, or my menstrual cycle.]
