Meandering Downtown towards the Sunshine Theatre on Saturday night, I was consumed by a jumble of thoughts and expectations.
Did I wear the right shoes to "mosh" in? Would 311's concert prove their worthiness or acknowledge their failure? Would my ID get me in the bar? Wait a second, did that lady just ask me if I wanted to buy some "magic brownies?"
The answers to these questions were literally around the corner as I made my way through the masses, headed for an insanely eventful night.
When I first set foot in the tarnished theater, I was greeted with the newly plucked and unfamiliar sounds of Alien Ant Farm. I will be honest and admit that if I held any skepticism prior to the show, it was regarding these guys. Yet, as I pushed and squeezed my way through the hoards of adolescent fans, I began to pick up on some tunes that were - in a pop rock sort of way - appeasing. Mind you, I'm not and never have been a person who listens to or even enjoys pop culture, but due to my intrinsic optimism, I was able to keep an open mind.
In all honesty, the band that I expected to suck wasn't all that bad. Surprisingly, my listening capability withstood the over-played lyrics of "Smooth Criminal" and my eardrums remained intact after the set was over. I guess that's the beauty of live music.
The most tumultuous part of my night came next, as I braved the crowd and fought for the gauntlet of the front of the stage. Imagine being in the midst of a thousand screaming, sweaty and, often times, stinky people who want nothing more than to catch a glimpse of their exalted deity. I stumbled, shoved and side-swiped my way through the mania of mongers until alas - I reached my destiny. Ah, center stage.
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As the members of 311 enthusiastically made their way onstage, a mass hysteria swept the audience as each member was transported to a dimension of short-lived euphoria. Some chick was so excited she fainted and unconsciously crowd-surfed her way to a haven of safety. Talk about amusement.
To add to the entertainment, 311 put on a hell of a show. From the old school to the present-day, the band played songs like "Come Original," "Feels So Good," "Down" and one of their latest, "Amber." The variety of musical expression possessed qualities of rock and smooth funk, complimented with the sugary-sweet vocals of S.A. Martinez and Nick Hexum. The sound system was first-rate and the atmosphere was one of intimacy and chaos. As the band members played their hearts out, fan members were hypnotized by 311's charismatic spell.
Unfortunately, after about the fifth song, I was drenched, beat up by the neanderthals who surrounded me and out of breath. I desperately made my way toward the balcony, where I chilled leisurely against the railing and admired from afar. This was a much better location. Not only did I have a perfect view of the concert, I had room to move and dance. There also was an older, more mature crowd of folks who preferred enjoying sound via relaxation instead of having their heads beaten by crowd-surfers and mosh-pitters.
As I stood watching and listening intently, Nick Hexum demanded for "everyone in the whole fuckin' place (to be) jumpin' on (their) two feet." The crowd followed his direction accordingly and the whole room became a synchronized Yo-Yo. The band members brought four drums onstage and each had a chance to show off his multiplicity of talents in a bombastic way.
After about a two-hour set and an encore, the band left behind their "beautiful disaster" and abandoned their alter. The disciples of 311 were satiated, yet longed for more. Nevertheless, they all walked away in bewildered contentment as their senses reverted back to normalcy. But I'm quite sure they'll never forget the blissful night they experienced - a night that was brought on by the worship of rock idols.
