Sunday, June 13, 2004
Sweat, Seven-something, Shinedown and Four-Dollar Guinness: Evil Brian Goes to a Rock Show
Alright, so last night, I went to this rock show in a crowded little club in Syracuse featuring the band-of-the-moment up here, Shinedown. Hey, it’d been forever since I went to a live show, it was only 12 bucks, and I kinda like that song “45”, so sue me. Anyways, so I get there and, obviously, the first thing I do is go to the bar, where they procede to anally rape me by charging me $4 for a BOTTLE of Guinness. Not a pint, A BOTTLE, which is approximately 11.5 oz. of liquid Ireland. So I drink my Guinness, and get to the performance area of the club, which is a kind of pit 3 feet below the floor to the rest of the club, and about 20 feet across by 10 feet back. The stage is actually smaller than the stage in the gymnasium/auditorium of my elementary school, and I was shocked that they could fit a drum riser AND allow for enough room to put the mic stand in front of it, but despite all physical logic, they did it, and all the bands performed while, miraculously, not injuring themselves.
So the first band goes up, and it’s a local, unsigned nu-metal-sounding band with the unfortunate name of Muzzlestamp. Don’t ask, I couldn’t figure it the fuck out either. So anyways, they sounded like a mix of Flaw and Godsmack which, of course, sent me into a state of malaise. I’m standing there at center stage about 5 people back totally spacing out because the music was predictably average when, out of abso-fucking-lutely nowhere, the lead guitarist (who looks EXACTLY like E from the Eels with bleached hair) pulls out this crazy, Maiden-esque, high-speed guitar solo, and when you’re spacing out that’s like a gigantic smack in the face. The rest of their blessedly short set (like 20 minutes or so) was much of the same, with one catchy song which is, evidently, downloadable from their website (Rewind). So the one thing I pulled away from this act was E from the Eels kicking dick with some crazy fret-smashing solos.
We wait for about 30 minutes for the next opening act, which I thought was kind of amazing for another band I had never heard of, but I dismissed it. Anyways, the next band is introduced by their manager, who promptly promotes them like they’re orgasm-inducing speed freaks and says they’re gonna “fucking rock you, Syracuse!!” like a third-rate Mick Foley. So they take the stage, and the lead singer is wearing a fucking denim jacket, and I’m like “Wow, this is gonna suck.” He basically looked like the dude from Saliva and the band sounded like a harder version of Creed, which did NOT help them whatsoever. It also did not help that the leader guy sounded like Scott Stapp and, shockingly, had all the typical Scott Stapp lead singer poses down pat. He had the single-fist-pump. He had the double-wrist-cross-over-the-head. He had the one-foot-on-the-amp, double-handed-mic-grab. He had the obnoxious-random-finger-point. And, most importantly, he had the Look-at-me,-I’m-Christ-crucifixion pose. About two or three songs into their mediocre set, I realize I have no idea what the fuck their name is. I think they said Seven something, but I had no idea. (EDIT: upon further investigation, their name is Seven Wiser and they are, SHOCKINGLY, signed to Wind-up Records, the former record label of….YUP! You guessed it – Creed.) About midway through their ungodly-long 40 minute set, the lead guitarist attempted a guitar solo, and the only words I can think of to describe it is cookie-cutter. Now, I have never, in my life, heard a cookie-cutter guitar solo, and before last night could not even imagine what one WOULD sound like. The very last thing a guitar solo should sound like is typical or, as was evident in this situation, BORING. This was both, and it made me very sad. After this and before the next song started, the lead singer did his “rap” with the audience, where he tries to psyche up the crowd for the next song, and I swear to the high holy cocksucker he blurted out the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. He said, and I quote, “This next song is for anyone out there who has ever grown to love to hate…SOMETHING.” I just kinda stared at him as he went into the first verse and thought “What the fuck was that?” So after that, their set ended and I rejoiced.
Well, evidently, it takes an HOUR for them to set the stage for Shinedown, which I honestly thought was overdoing it. Now, at this point the air had gotten thick with perspiration and people started mobbing the floor and pushing up and stuff; and even with all the sweaty rock-chick-boobs smashing against my back, I could only think “Why the fuck does it take so long to set up your equipment for a club that holds less than a hundred people??” My legs get tired, and I honestly think about just sitting down when all of a sudden the lights go down, and I’m like “Finally.” About 20 minutes later, they start taking the stage, and they enter the stage to the theme from Sanford & Son. So, automatically, they get a bonus 20 points for cool pop-culture reference. So they start on a good vibe, and they get LOUD. Like hella-loud, much louder than I expected. Well, before I get into all that, I should explain some stuff.
1.) Shinedown, if you haven’t heard them before, has a kind of southern/hard rock sound. They’re not quite nu-metal, and the lead singer actually has a little soul to his voice.
2.) I had never heard any song from them except for “45”. Evidently, they had another radio hit off the album and, when they wanted everyone to sing along and I was standing there in front of him not doing a fucking thing, I honestly felt kinda dumb.
3.) I had little to no expectations for these guys at all. They didn’t say “we’re gonna fucking rock you Syracuse!” or anything like that to prematurely build themselves up or anything, so I had nothing to go on.
So the lead singer comes out, and he’s fucking NUTS. Like, I’ve seen a couple bands in concert in big arenas and whatnot, but none of them had a quarter of the intensity that this guy had. He was jumping all over the place, standing on the drum riser, SHAKING (which was kinda weird), and they just blast through all these songs that I have no idea what the hell they were. During the second song, I got pulled into the MOSH PIT. There was a MOSH PIT at a SHINEDOWN show. I was kinda stunned; one, by the dude who punched me in the back, and two, by the fact that not only had someone started a mosh pit in a teeny tiny dank little pit, but that they did so at a SHINEDOWN concert. So that was fun, albeit very unexpected, and I ended up on the far left side of the stage before security broke it up, thankfully (there was the typical drunk dude looking to just flail his arms everywhere hurting people unnecessarily). So a couple more songs pass (again, couldn’t BEGIN to tell you what they were) and then the drummer and bassist leave the stage. So, while I’m trying to figure out which sluts went back there to suck their cocks, lead singer dude (I find out later his name is Brent. And before you think “Who the fuck names their kids Brent nowadays?” let me get you back on subject) starts talking about how they’re from Jacksonville, FL. Automatically I think “Holy shit, please don’t cover Limp Bizkit.” (what can I say, I’m a pessimist.) Then, much to MY shock, Brent and the guitarist (sporting the ever more common acoustic-guitar-at-the-rock-show) goes into a full-blown REALLY GOOD cover of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man”. I was floored, and was one of about 3 people there actually singing along while the rest of the mostly-under-20 crowd just kinda swayed and stared blankly, and I could just read their faces. “WEN R THEY GUNNA PLAY 45?//?” So anyways, they go through that and actually get a good portion of the crowd to sing along with the final chorus, and they get back into the show full force. So they play a bunch more songs that actually sound GOOD (as he channeled Robert Plant and Chris Cornell at the same time) and leave the stage. And then, after the cheering and screaming started to die down, they come back out and do a DOUBLE ENCORE. As I previously mentioned, I have been to a couple Arena-type shows, and I have NEVER been privy to a double encore. These guys play a sweaty, smelly, dirty little bar in Syracuse and just give an arena-style performance with insane energy. And, the first encore they started playing “45” and the crowd went INSANE. The mosh pits started again, people started crowd-surfing, and you could barely hear him over the crowd. So, when that finishes and the band all walks off ‘cept for Brent (who keeps repeating the last 4 lines of the song), the band then COMES BACK and plays an ALBUM TRACK; and I could only think “Wow, they’ve got some nuts to pull that off.” And, not once in the entire hour-long set, did they ever lessen or lose any intensity. The Brent guy was just as spastic during the finale that he was during the entire rest of the show.
I left the tiny Club Tundra sweaty, smelly, my ears ringing, dazed and dehydrated; and it was honestly one of the first times I can honestly say “That show rocked my ass.” So, while I figured they were gonna sound like Default or some shit, and was actually dreading the show a little bit, fearing another Vertical Horizon disaster (don’t ask), it was actually one of the better rock shows I’ve been to. I’m not sure if I’d exactly recommend Shinedown to everyone, but I’d definitely recommend, at least once, going to a dingy little bar when a semi-cool band is playing and experiencing that for yourself.
So, in summary, E from the Eels shreds on guitar; there is a band in existence that thinks that naming themselves Muzzlestamp was a good idea; people who act like Scott Stapp automatically suck as much as Scott Stapp; Wind-Up Records has not ever put out anything of any use to the music community; Shinedown, while still being a radio-friendly-type band, surprisingly rocked my ass; and little club shows rule.
Muzzlestamp
Seven-something
Shinedown
|
Alright, so last night, I went to this rock show in a crowded little club in Syracuse featuring the band-of-the-moment up here, Shinedown. Hey, it’d been forever since I went to a live show, it was only 12 bucks, and I kinda like that song “45”, so sue me. Anyways, so I get there and, obviously, the first thing I do is go to the bar, where they procede to anally rape me by charging me $4 for a BOTTLE of Guinness. Not a pint, A BOTTLE, which is approximately 11.5 oz. of liquid Ireland. So I drink my Guinness, and get to the performance area of the club, which is a kind of pit 3 feet below the floor to the rest of the club, and about 20 feet across by 10 feet back. The stage is actually smaller than the stage in the gymnasium/auditorium of my elementary school, and I was shocked that they could fit a drum riser AND allow for enough room to put the mic stand in front of it, but despite all physical logic, they did it, and all the bands performed while, miraculously, not injuring themselves.
So the first band goes up, and it’s a local, unsigned nu-metal-sounding band with the unfortunate name of Muzzlestamp. Don’t ask, I couldn’t figure it the fuck out either. So anyways, they sounded like a mix of Flaw and Godsmack which, of course, sent me into a state of malaise. I’m standing there at center stage about 5 people back totally spacing out because the music was predictably average when, out of abso-fucking-lutely nowhere, the lead guitarist (who looks EXACTLY like E from the Eels with bleached hair) pulls out this crazy, Maiden-esque, high-speed guitar solo, and when you’re spacing out that’s like a gigantic smack in the face. The rest of their blessedly short set (like 20 minutes or so) was much of the same, with one catchy song which is, evidently, downloadable from their website (Rewind). So the one thing I pulled away from this act was E from the Eels kicking dick with some crazy fret-smashing solos.
We wait for about 30 minutes for the next opening act, which I thought was kind of amazing for another band I had never heard of, but I dismissed it. Anyways, the next band is introduced by their manager, who promptly promotes them like they’re orgasm-inducing speed freaks and says they’re gonna “fucking rock you, Syracuse!!” like a third-rate Mick Foley. So they take the stage, and the lead singer is wearing a fucking denim jacket, and I’m like “Wow, this is gonna suck.” He basically looked like the dude from Saliva and the band sounded like a harder version of Creed, which did NOT help them whatsoever. It also did not help that the leader guy sounded like Scott Stapp and, shockingly, had all the typical Scott Stapp lead singer poses down pat. He had the single-fist-pump. He had the double-wrist-cross-over-the-head. He had the one-foot-on-the-amp, double-handed-mic-grab. He had the obnoxious-random-finger-point. And, most importantly, he had the Look-at-me,-I’m-Christ-crucifixion pose. About two or three songs into their mediocre set, I realize I have no idea what the fuck their name is. I think they said Seven something, but I had no idea. (EDIT: upon further investigation, their name is Seven Wiser and they are, SHOCKINGLY, signed to Wind-up Records, the former record label of….YUP! You guessed it – Creed.) About midway through their ungodly-long 40 minute set, the lead guitarist attempted a guitar solo, and the only words I can think of to describe it is cookie-cutter. Now, I have never, in my life, heard a cookie-cutter guitar solo, and before last night could not even imagine what one WOULD sound like. The very last thing a guitar solo should sound like is typical or, as was evident in this situation, BORING. This was both, and it made me very sad. After this and before the next song started, the lead singer did his “rap” with the audience, where he tries to psyche up the crowd for the next song, and I swear to the high holy cocksucker he blurted out the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. He said, and I quote, “This next song is for anyone out there who has ever grown to love to hate…SOMETHING.” I just kinda stared at him as he went into the first verse and thought “What the fuck was that?” So after that, their set ended and I rejoiced.
Well, evidently, it takes an HOUR for them to set the stage for Shinedown, which I honestly thought was overdoing it. Now, at this point the air had gotten thick with perspiration and people started mobbing the floor and pushing up and stuff; and even with all the sweaty rock-chick-boobs smashing against my back, I could only think “Why the fuck does it take so long to set up your equipment for a club that holds less than a hundred people??” My legs get tired, and I honestly think about just sitting down when all of a sudden the lights go down, and I’m like “Finally.” About 20 minutes later, they start taking the stage, and they enter the stage to the theme from Sanford & Son. So, automatically, they get a bonus 20 points for cool pop-culture reference. So they start on a good vibe, and they get LOUD. Like hella-loud, much louder than I expected. Well, before I get into all that, I should explain some stuff.
1.) Shinedown, if you haven’t heard them before, has a kind of southern/hard rock sound. They’re not quite nu-metal, and the lead singer actually has a little soul to his voice.
2.) I had never heard any song from them except for “45”. Evidently, they had another radio hit off the album and, when they wanted everyone to sing along and I was standing there in front of him not doing a fucking thing, I honestly felt kinda dumb.
3.) I had little to no expectations for these guys at all. They didn’t say “we’re gonna fucking rock you Syracuse!” or anything like that to prematurely build themselves up or anything, so I had nothing to go on.
So the lead singer comes out, and he’s fucking NUTS. Like, I’ve seen a couple bands in concert in big arenas and whatnot, but none of them had a quarter of the intensity that this guy had. He was jumping all over the place, standing on the drum riser, SHAKING (which was kinda weird), and they just blast through all these songs that I have no idea what the hell they were. During the second song, I got pulled into the MOSH PIT. There was a MOSH PIT at a SHINEDOWN show. I was kinda stunned; one, by the dude who punched me in the back, and two, by the fact that not only had someone started a mosh pit in a teeny tiny dank little pit, but that they did so at a SHINEDOWN concert. So that was fun, albeit very unexpected, and I ended up on the far left side of the stage before security broke it up, thankfully (there was the typical drunk dude looking to just flail his arms everywhere hurting people unnecessarily). So a couple more songs pass (again, couldn’t BEGIN to tell you what they were) and then the drummer and bassist leave the stage. So, while I’m trying to figure out which sluts went back there to suck their cocks, lead singer dude (I find out later his name is Brent. And before you think “Who the fuck names their kids Brent nowadays?” let me get you back on subject) starts talking about how they’re from Jacksonville, FL. Automatically I think “Holy shit, please don’t cover Limp Bizkit.” (what can I say, I’m a pessimist.) Then, much to MY shock, Brent and the guitarist (sporting the ever more common acoustic-guitar-at-the-rock-show) goes into a full-blown REALLY GOOD cover of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man”. I was floored, and was one of about 3 people there actually singing along while the rest of the mostly-under-20 crowd just kinda swayed and stared blankly, and I could just read their faces. “WEN R THEY GUNNA PLAY 45?//?” So anyways, they go through that and actually get a good portion of the crowd to sing along with the final chorus, and they get back into the show full force. So they play a bunch more songs that actually sound GOOD (as he channeled Robert Plant and Chris Cornell at the same time) and leave the stage. And then, after the cheering and screaming started to die down, they come back out and do a DOUBLE ENCORE. As I previously mentioned, I have been to a couple Arena-type shows, and I have NEVER been privy to a double encore. These guys play a sweaty, smelly, dirty little bar in Syracuse and just give an arena-style performance with insane energy. And, the first encore they started playing “45” and the crowd went INSANE. The mosh pits started again, people started crowd-surfing, and you could barely hear him over the crowd. So, when that finishes and the band all walks off ‘cept for Brent (who keeps repeating the last 4 lines of the song), the band then COMES BACK and plays an ALBUM TRACK; and I could only think “Wow, they’ve got some nuts to pull that off.” And, not once in the entire hour-long set, did they ever lessen or lose any intensity. The Brent guy was just as spastic during the finale that he was during the entire rest of the show.
I left the tiny Club Tundra sweaty, smelly, my ears ringing, dazed and dehydrated; and it was honestly one of the first times I can honestly say “That show rocked my ass.” So, while I figured they were gonna sound like Default or some shit, and was actually dreading the show a little bit, fearing another Vertical Horizon disaster (don’t ask), it was actually one of the better rock shows I’ve been to. I’m not sure if I’d exactly recommend Shinedown to everyone, but I’d definitely recommend, at least once, going to a dingy little bar when a semi-cool band is playing and experiencing that for yourself.
So, in summary, E from the Eels shreds on guitar; there is a band in existence that thinks that naming themselves Muzzlestamp was a good idea; people who act like Scott Stapp automatically suck as much as Scott Stapp; Wind-Up Records has not ever put out anything of any use to the music community; Shinedown, while still being a radio-friendly-type band, surprisingly rocked my ass; and little club shows rule.
Muzzlestamp
Seven-something
Shinedown
