The last time I attended a concert, I was 12 and Richard Reynoso headlined the event. It was held at our tiny town plaza. In my defense, I was born and raised in the deep jungles of the north, so there you go. But even after I moved to the big city, attending concerts never occurred to me because 1) I wasn’t earning nearly enough to pay the rent, much more afford frivolous things like concert tickets and 2) I do not like crowds/lines and 3) Elvis Presley, Jeff Buckley, Michael Jackson and Freddy Mercury are all dead. The last one is a joke, obviously (but you can bet your ass I’d be the first to buy a ticket if things were different, you know, them not being dead and stuff).
However, after missing Gin Blossoms and Scott Weiland in concert several months back, I vowed that never again, will I let my hatred for sweaty, screaming sea of humanity stop me from showing support to my beloved music idols.
Excuse my rambling, this probinsyana just attended her first “real” concert (Incidentally, it was Hannah’s first time to attend a “real rock concert”):
We waited in line for what seemed like forever, only to discover in the end that we were in the wrong line. We were not alone, organizers were at fault. Unfortunately, we only bought GenAd tickets (don’t ask me why) so getting decent seats was next to impossible.
Here’s what I learned from buying GenAd tix. Apparently, it’s the type of ticket only kids can afford. So we ended up sitting in the middle of absolute pubertal nightmare. I won’t go on about our lapse in judgment because I wasted enough time last night whining about it.
A certain band opened the show. I don’t know them because I live under a rock. They were okay, I guess, but I didn’t enjoy their performance. I’ve seen better sets in Meyric’s, to be honest, but the band practically caused mass seizures to the kids so I’m guessing they are a popular local band.
When the band finally got out of the fucking stage, the crew started setting up the stage for the main event and that took 45 excruciating minutes. Finally, the boys of Incubus stepped onstage and opened the show with one of their new-ish hit, Megalomaniac. In the beginning of the performance (unseen on the video below), Mike threw his guitar and kicked the amps in frustration when he discovered it wasn’t working right. But disaster was averted when someone quickly handed him another guitar.
Brandon looked emancipated, but I can confirm that he is still as hot as ever. He also did his signature coked-out-of-his-mind-sway, which made each female concertgoer’s heart skip a beat. You have to hand it to Brandon. The dude sang for an hour and a half nonstop and never showed signs of fatigue. He’s either too coked up to care or he’s just that committed on giving a great performance for the fans. Collectively, they were great. In fact, they sound better live.
I do have three gripes. One, they did not perform Are You In. So sad. Two, Brandon barely interacted with the crowd. He just uttered, “thank you very much”, at the end of each song. But what left me bitterly, bitterly disappointed was the fact that he did not take his damn shirt off.
If you know Brandon Boyd as a performer, you know that he has a habit of singing shirtless. During the encore, he pulled his shirt over his head but quickly pulled it back on as seen on the video below:
Y u toy with my feelings?! Wai, Brandon, wai?
I was expecting this:
All I saw was this:
Oh well. You can’t win ‘em all.
Also, I noticed how tame the crowd was. No riot, no crazed fan elbowing her way to the security just to steal a smooch from Brandon and the potheads hid themselves well. It was… good, clean fun. But what do I know, I was seated so far from the stage, there could be an elephant in the middle of the anak ng Diyos section and I wouldn’t even spot it.
Here’s to hoping Aerosmith, U2, The Killers, TAAR, R.E.M and RHCP would pay us a visit soon.