Weezer Geezer

Ok people-- here's how it went down. This is Mike and his fiance Kendra. They're concert going veterans. Mike's really more into metal (harder rock), but they both like Weezer. These were my chaperones. Mike took all these awesome pictures. We didn't get the memo about striped shirts (click to enlarge striped weirdness).

I was nervous before leaving. I'd gone for a bike ride meaning a shower was in order. My hair, which amazingly hasn't appeared thus far in an "incurring my wrath" post, is curly so doesn't dry very fast. I had to blowdry it which makes it huge-- think brown cotton candy. This made me have to take a curling iron after it. Not the cool, "not really trying" look I was hoping for. I wound up sporting totally middle-aged big poufy hair. Who was I kidding? My normally perfect husband gave me a hug before I left and said, weirdly in the same tone of voice you'd use to say, "Don't worry-- you'll have a great time!"-- "Awe-- you'll be the oldest person there, but have fun..."

Weezer came on (finally) after two warm-up bands. We missed the first one but the second one was really crappy. Some people seemed into it, but we were not. The lead singer had this whole, "Check me out-- a legend in the making " thing going on that was just totally pukey, and all their songs sounded the same-- unremarkable, like regurgitated commercial radio crap.

Weezer started out in white jumpsuits and Rivers (the main guy / the mustache) introduced each member of the band saying stuff like, "Chris, I'd like you to meet some of my twin cities friends. I can personally vouch for the coolness of each and every person here, because they're here." Of course it was pandering, but quirky and sincere in a weird anonymous way and the crowd went nuts.

By nuts I mean a lot of things took place just like I'd imagined. Twenty year old guys charged through the crowd like rhinos dumping beer on whoever got in their way, just barreling right into people. People were lifted above the crowd and passed around-- crowd surfing-- looking like they were being tumbled in a giant washing machine. Bottles and glasses (plastic) of beer were lobbed into the air, and everyone jumped around and sang along and basically jammed out in a completely unrestrained fashion. Amazingly I did not get anything on me, and no one knocked me down, and I never really even felt threatened. Knowing Mike (6'1") was hovering protectively nearby helped.

The guys played a bunch of old favorites and a few off their new album (Red). It was so loud you could sing along without fear of anyone hearing you-- it almost seemed expected actually. After a while they whipped off the jumpsuits and played in red track suits. Part of their image is that they're kind of the "everyman" of rock-- kind of dorky, but cool by virtue of the swagger effect. It's a fine line of making fun of the rockstar persona while living it out. Somehow Rivers pulls it off by letting everyone in on the joke, and writing accessible hit after hit.

It got kind of smokey in there. It's illegal to smoke indoors, but the mob is so concentrated on the floor that security has no hope of controlling really what goes on aside from keeping people off the stage, so people were lighting up all over. If I had to choose I'd rather smell pot than cigarette smoke, but both hung in a haze over the crowd.

I jumped around for about two hours solid growing progressively more hoarse. Near the end the "hootenanny" began. This was a brainstorm of River's-- to invite local musicians to bring any instruments they wanted to the concert and come up on stage to jam with them. Some applied online by posting a video of themselves playing, and some won the opportunity from radio stations.

Rivers went around and talked to many of them, asking who they were, where they were from, how long they'd been playing etc. There was a kid with a flute, a guy with an ude, some guy with a washboard, and as you can see a whole bunch of other folks. It was really friendly feeling. Rivers led them through a couple of well known songs prompting the crowd to sing along, sometimes just the guys, some parts just girls etc. Everyone was smiling and playing along. Good vibes.

That was when it kind of hit me-- here I was in this teeming throng of mostly younger people. Did I feel conspicuously older? No-- it was pretty dark (haha), plus I do like this music and I knew all the songs too. Was I having a good time?-- Yes. Did I feel like I'd found my lost tribe, standing there in the crowd with a huge grin on my face?-- Not really. I felt kind of like Jane Goodall or something. I knew this culture, I even relate in many ways. Music can grab my heart like a frisbee and make it soar up and out and away-- but I wasn't "one of them", this crowd of twenty-something concert goers. I was an infiltrator, an observer.

I'm really glad I got to go to the concert and examine all the shenanigans close-up. If I hadn't I'd always wish I had, and if not now when?-- When I'm 50? 60? 70? No, it needed to be now. I guess what I came to realize was that the affinity I've felt connected to this whole experience is more related to the people on the stage than those in the crowd. I would never in a million years want that life (of a professional musician), but the feeling of inclusiveness and collaboration-- of other creative types totally grooving in synchronized euphoria-- that is pretty damned seductive.

The whole "rock concert" thing is now out of my system-- for now at least, but my search for other members of my creative tribe continues-- for other writers, artists, and maybe even musicians who "fit".