Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Fall Out Boy!

Yesterday I felt as if I'd just disembarked from the space shuttle and couldn't hear myself type, so you get the lowdown today.

I'd never been to the Electric Factory. It's exactly what the name says it is and was, despite really bad acoustics, the nicest, most intimate place I've ever seen a famous band (or two!)

We got there and immediately took our place in the Mosh pit, about 20 feet from the stage. I could've elected to go up to the balcony and sit with a drink, but I wanted to be close to The Boys, and delusionally thought I could save the children from being trampled and suffocated in the pit. What a fool I was. The minute Permanent Me errupted in sound, the crowd surged forward in a wave after crushing wave. Child number two was gasping for air. I grabbed her and we pushed over to the side railing, where things were less fluid. A smart move that made the experience much more enjoyable. I don't know about you, but the prospect of imminent death has a weird way of sapping my joi de vive.

Permanent Me, Early November and New Found Glory came first. As soon as they're posted--later today or tomorrow--you can see a pic of me and my dates on the New Found Glory website. No, they didn't snap the shot because I'm sooo famous and they're such BIG fans, although I can fantasize, can't I?

We enjoyed all the other bands--esp. NFG who were exceptionally personable--but, you know, there's a reason some achieve greatness and some hover high to midlist. I think the difference has nothing to do with talent (or even likability) and everything to do with that old black magic called mystique. Three hours later, when FOB came on, my suspicions were confirmed.

Now, I love their music. Particularly the lyrics. Pete Wentz can turn a spectacular metaphor--the kind that makes me sit here wondering why I ever took up the pen. Unfortunately, the warehouse setting made it amost impossible to hear any subtleties in notes, let alone lyrics. If I had to choose a word to describe it, it'd be cacophany. But, watching them was enough.

I like seeing what famous people really look like without air-brushing, computer enhancement and forced poses. All of them are much better looking in person, in action, particularly Wentz who has that magnetic stage presence. His photos really don't do him justice at all. Patrick, his perfect foil, is equally alluring and in his own quieter way, commands the stage. It's curious to me how some people can project their souls out there onto the marquis of universal consciousness and some couldn't be seen with the Hubble telescope. Not saying I know FOB any better than I did before the concert, but my internal radar picked up bleeps. Disturbances.

One thing that impressed me was how Pete responded to everything thrown onto the stage. He'd dutifully pick it up and inspect it. Until someone tossed an orange bra at him. That, he wouldn't touch and he rolled his eyes and pulled a face. The girls and I agreed that he won our respect for that reaction.

So, a good show, nice venue, pretty eye candy. It didn't leave me breathless and babbling like Roger Waters did, but Pink Floyd music is like crack to me and I could actually hear the individual notes at that concert. It was an audio/visual orgy. Plus, there was that whole legend thing going on.

Fall Out Boy was more a midnight snack. But a furtive, delicious one in the light of the fridge. One that makes you want more. Next time I'd like to see them for the music. It'd mean a sacrifice on intimacy--something FOB has resisted thus far, and another reason I admire them--but dayum. I want the orgy!


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