M.C. Griffin
Staff Illustrator
It was April 9th, 2003, 6:00 PM and we thought we were early. Bad Religion was playing that night after two headlining bands, and we did not want to miss a minute. Parking was easy enough to find, but as myself, and my good friend, Sandahl VonSydow, pulled into the parking lot, we witnessed a line, which inspired a state of depression. It was time to wait.
We walked into the back of the line. I tried to make the best out of the situation, so I scoped out the crowd. All of the punks and rowdy boys were there. Their mohawks and spiked hair gleamed in the sun. Their t-shirts, supported various bands and cult interests such as the bands, AFI and The Subhumans.
While I scoped, I found my friends Erik Classen, Stephen Tayler, Sean Catlett, and East High senior Val Torres at the very front of the line.
I decided, since this is a punk rock show, I might as well do the punk rock thing and crowd. So, Sandahl and I went from the end of the line to the very front, a position we did not deserve, but as long as we were able to be near the stage when the band played, I don't think we'll lose sleep over it.
My friends had been there since 4:00, and they had experienced something, which, to myself, Sandahl and Sean (who did the punk rock thing also, and walked to the show) would have been like meeting Christ.
Apparently, on the way to the show, Erik, who was driving Sean and Steve, was stopped by Bad Religion lead singer Greg Graffen and the rest of the band. He nonchalantly asked them for directions to Eye Street, and my friends, who were all completely dumbfounded by the presence of their favorite band, stumbled and mumbled to get the directions out.
They managed to get their CDs signed when he came back around. Val managed to get his Evangelion poster signed by Mr. Graffen, who exposed his apparent love for anime by signing the poster with "The best thing other than Bad Religion."
After much conversation over the hows and whens of how everyone came to arrive at the show, the place finally opened up and it was time to go in.
Tickets were an obscene $22.00, but considering how cheap shirts, CDs and other merchandise was, I didn't mind. Granted, as the night went on I spent all my money on water, 2:00 a measly bottle, but I blame that on the venue and not the artists.
We were all at the front because, the rule generally seems to be, if you are in the front or the back, you aren't in the circle pit. Unless a mosh pit breaks out, the front is pretty domicile, but even if it does erupt, you can hold onto the waist-high fence between yourself and the stage. Before the first group started, we chatted with the bouncers behind the fence thing. They were interesting folks. One of them was an old Bad Religion fan, and was excited to be at the other end of the trouble.
The first to play was Death By Stereo. I hadn't heard of them, which proves my lack of involvement in the punk rock scene. I dug their sound, a hard, thrashish, head-banger brand of punk rock, which inspired the circle pit (a mosh pit towards the middle of the floor which moves in a circle) to churn with a running pace.
My only problem with the group was that half of their subject matter was, instead of aimed at certain views, which they don't agree with, aimed at certain people that they don't agree with. Such songs as Hippie Holocaust and Emo Holocaust (aimed at the two different music movements) made me cringe.
Their performance was almost worth it though. The lead singer made it a point that he wanted to be in everyone's face. He hopped onto the stage divider, climbed over and sung in the crowd, his mohawk waving, coating people with sweat. He even found his way to the glass food court, pressing his face against the glass, taunting the people inside to get out and mosh. It was pretty intense. My friend Sandahl is pretty skinny, so Val and I took turns at protecting her from being smooshed and smacked by screaming, thrashing fans. The crowd was pretty tame then though, so it wasn't too daunting a task.
Next up was the group, Sparta. A little back-story on Sparta, they used to be another group called At The Drive-In. They had just hit it big with a hit called "One Armed Scissor" but since MTV played the song on commercials and programs incessantly, they broke up the band and started over in the underground again. Now, as Sparta, the two original members are in the semi-fame they are comfortable with again.
Though I liked At The Drive-In's music, this was the first time I had ever heard Sparta. I also wish I had known their demographic earlier, because maybe then, I would have expected the bevy of screaming teenage girls, who rushed to the front of the crowd and worked their adolescent lungs to exhaustion. The entire audience turned into one high-pitched squeal that would make a Beatles fan proud as front man Jim Ward approached the stage. The girl next to me was the loudest thing in the whole concert.
Finally, it was time for Bad Religion. They opened up with a funky little semi-techno beat played on the speakers, as the band entered the stage. I had no idea how much those in presence loved the band until people started to gather where myself, and my friends had situated ourselves. Kid by kid, the front of the stage became more and more packed. Sardines would miss the can had they come into this crowd. I could feel elbows and hands at my back, and someone kept grabbing for my shirt.
Greg Graffen finally showed himself, and the crowd exploded, and immediately began to churn. I felt like the entire world was on my back as I tried to hang on to the railing. There was a look of pure fear in the eyes of the bouncers, who no doubt realized how helplessly outnumbered they were.
The band opened with "I Want To Conquer The World" and immediately the entire front half of the place turned into a mosh pit. All my friends and I could do to keep our spots was hold onto the guard rail for dear life and hope that a crowd surfer didn't kick us in the heads.
My attempts to protect Sandahl from the onslaught of the concert crowd quickly faded, as the protective shield of my arms and the railing grew smaller and smaller as the crowd pushed my arms further together. One particularly frantic fan, in her attempts to get to the front, had managed to wedge her hip between us. Sandahl looked back to reassure me that she would be okay, so I let go. That was my first mistake. The girl managed to trip me up enough to cause me to stagger back, and fall to the ground.
As I fell, I suddenly felt a fear of death that I had never felt before. Images of being brutally trampled by rampant punk-rock fans; their knee-high boots squishing my face, splattered in my head. However, I forgot about one of the cardinal rules of the pit, if you fall, someone will probably pick you up. I felt arms at my shoulders immediately, but the person behind me pushed me into the girl that picked me up. For a moment, my face seemed like it was covered with a large, rubbery pillow, but as I staggered back, I saw the blood stains in her cleavage, and realized that my nose was bleeding.
In spite of my life juice dripping out of my nostril, I decided to hop into the circle pit. Being in the circle pit is hard to describe, but you basically march around in a circle, arms swinging, with your pace set by the music. I've been in a few that have almost reached a running pace. The more people in the pit, the more violent it is, since it is customary to push and muscle your fellow pitters around. I love the circle pit, because it's easier to get out of than the mess of a mosh pit I had just escaped, and it is much more violent, which adds to the fun.
I came out of the pit to get one of those two dollar bottled waters. I was saving this money for a poster, but my thirst came first. As I left the concession counter, I saw a skinny dude, his shirt off and head down, almost passed out. I thought maybe he was a stoner who possibly had too much fun, but I didn't give it too much thought, and hopped back into the circle pit.
Circle pit interlude....
After a little bit more of the circle pit, I found my buddy Sean and talked to him for a little. A very little, considering that he took my place in the pit and I was too tired to continue on without a rest. I headed back to the concession stands to maybe sweet-talk the water girl into giving me a coveted, two-dollar water for free. On my way, I saw the possibly stoner guy again. I bent down to help him out, only to find that it wasn't a stoner, it was my bud Steve.
Apparently, he had gotten so excited up at the front, that he passed out for a good forty five seconds. The bouncers pulled him out and placed him into just off side the stage, and made him leave when he came to. After telling me this, he put his shirt on like a cape a jumped back into the mosh pit, fighting his way back to the front.
Junior Niklas Kammeraad and a friend of his were there. Though he came to see Sparta, and didn't get to see the whole show, he was later quoted saying "Sparta was full of great hooks and played an awesome show, but in terms of playing live, Bad Religion is the master of noise."
Bad Religion finished their show with a wonderful encore of their latest hit "Sorrow." The show had ended, they played some punk-hop on the monitor, and two punks got in a fist fight. There was torn paper, discarded cups, and broken bottles all over the place. Surprisingly, there were no recorded fatalities.
I asked one of my bouncer friends where the girl I was with was at, but he couldn't hear me over the monitor, so he gave me one of the picks that fell off stage instead. It was Greg Hetson of Bad Religion's pick. Neat, but I still hadn't found Sandahl. She very well could have been trampled by the mosh pit, but instead was right behind me.
As Sandahl and I left, we made conversation with a drunken sixteen year old boasting that he had snuck in, and got kicked out. I had seen him earlier inside trying to hit on some girls at the show, so I had little respect for him, but I made polite conversation until he decided there was something else more interesting than us and left.
Later, after I had gone home with a clotting nose, two rips in my shirt, and a large rip in the crotch of my pants, I was ready to turn in for the night. However, my adrenaline high prohibited much sleep, and I mostly just looked for stuff to do around the house until I got tired and finally slept.
The next day, I had found out that the rest of my friends went backstage to meet the band, and were invited to an after-concert party. They had got to meet the band more formally, and shake their hands. Erik even got Greg Hetson on the voice message on his phone saying "This is Greg Hetson from Bad Religion, leave a message for Erik... NOW!!"
It was a great show, and I hope to see them again real soon. There is a Good Charlotte concert coming soon. A concert which should be great for all those who would like to imagine they are listening to punk, when really listening to over-hyped, image driven pop. Those in attendance won't know what they missed.