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This is a very funny bit of blog that Andrew sent me. Go here:

Or just read the damn thing below:

Monday, January 03, 2005
Evanescence concert review Here is my amazing and fun-filled review for my first “real” concert going experience. On July 27th, Tuesday, Stefanie and I went to see Evanescence at the TD Waterhouse Centre in Orlando. Before this, I had only been to see the London Symphony Orchestra in Daytona Beach. Now, the LSO was not the typical concert that most people are used to. For example, I wore a nice shirt, tie, slacks, and other stuff to make me look suave. You sat during it, and if you even sniffled, you were looked at. God forbid a cellular phone goes off. Now, by the time someone is 27 years old, he or she probably should have attended at least one concert. Sadly, that all passed me by. First, I never liked the idea of them, and, probably more importantly, not one single singer or group appealed to me enough to take the time to go and see. This changed, though, when I found out Evanescence was coming to town. For those that do not know, they are probably one of the biggest groups in the world right now. Proof of that, barring their album sales, is that if *I* know about them and like them, then they must be big. Their deput album, Fallen, has gone 5x Platinum (which, so they say, mean 15+ million have been sold so far, and counting), and their concerts are selling out all over the place. They are huge and have, without a shadow of a doubt, crossed all cultural, sexual, geographical, racial, and any other line that one could draw. I will go into that more fully when I get to the part where I talk about the people I saw there. Why are they so popular? First, the music is good. It’s that simple. Those that know me know full well that I am not a HUGE music person. Usually, on average at least, when I enjoy a song, it really is a good song. I am overly picky when it comes to what I will listen to. With Evanescence, though, I, in all honesty, like their entire album, every last track. Sure, some are stronger than others (track .4, My Immortal, being one of my Top 10 Songs of all time), but still, the entire CD is great. They were around before the Ben Affleck vehicle known as Daredevil (actually a fairly good movie), but it was their single, Bring Me to Life, on the soundtrack for that film that really propelled them into super stardom. From what I read, the soundtrack made more money than the film itself. That, of course, just made their actual album sell even better. I liked the song. I can recognize a good singing voice when I hear one, and even those that dislike the group admit that Amy Lee, the lead singer, is a huge talent. That, too, is why I believe the group has done so well. The music is primary, yes, but the fact that the lead is female just makes it more appealing. She is not attractive, not at all ugly, rather cute, really, but just “real” looking. Guys like that, and girls respect it. Plus, the music is not rock, it is not punk, it is not alternative, it is not goth-like, it is not something that can really be put into a box. Just compare tracks .1 and .4; they are two completely different entities. So, the CDs start selling like there is no tomorrow, they are everywhere, a video is released (which can be found on the second disc of the Daredevil DVD or online), and they have not slowed down since. I eventually got my hands on the CD and listened to the entire thing. I loved it. Well worth buying. Great music, great lyrics, great voice, great package for only about $12 – $15. Time passes. I find out almost two months ago that they are going on tour and will be in Orlando. I must go. Not once, not ever, had I even remotely felt like attending a concert such as this. “This” being a real concert. I had to go, though. Still, I could not go alone. Who would attend with me? Choices were obviously slim. Let’s look at the people I know and the options I was presented with: Micah – Lives in Seattle. Even if he were here, he would probably not attend. He’s out. Mason – Lives in New York City. I do believe he would have gone had he been here, even if only to see me at one of these things. Still, he is not here. He’s out. Stephan – No real desire to go with him. He had been to one concert in his life, Weezer, hated it with a passion. He ended up destroying all the Weezer CDs and never listened to them again. Plus, he could never afford it (it was not expensive but was not cheap). He’s out. Fernan – Cool guy. I will go to theme parks with him. He saved me last year at Halloween Horror Nights. However, he would not in the least fit in at one of these, and it would just be awkard. He’s out. Stefanie – Lives locally, has attended some concerts in her time, and would fit in there. Three good marks. However, she, oddly enough, had never really “heard” them before and odds seemed good that she would not be able to go. Still, she was able to go and that is who attended with me. Plus, if I do end up looking like a complete idiot, I can laugh at myself if she is around. With the others I would never live it down. Tickets are purchased. I get the most expensive ones thinking they’ll be great seats! But no! I get tickets for what is known as “the floor.” I am dead. We first eat at Chiles. It is good. Stefanie does not like her water, but I like my bacon cheeseburger. Dale calls mid-dinner and asks if we are going to midnight bowling on Saturday. I tell him I am. Stefanie may or may not. It looks promising, though. We pay and head to the TD Waterhouse Centre which is really not all that far. Upon arrival I am forced to pay $5 for parking. It is not at all crowded. I get worried. The concert is set to begin at 7:00pm, and it is now around 6:30pm. I know it is sold out according to Ticketmaster and the radio. Stefanie informs me that there will be opening acts and that most people do not show up until just a little later. I feel better. We get a great spot and decide to sit in the car and just kind of do nothing. We turn on their CD, and she realizes she has heard their music before but just did not really connect the dots of who they were. Still, even if you have never heard the name of the group, you HAVE heard the music. We both start pointing out different people going in. Look, the aging hippie! Look, there, the two women in their 40s that dress in dominatrix outfits! Look, typical high school kids with baggy pants with suspenders attached to them with green hair! Over there, a mom and her young daughter! Wait, look, there, a group of lesbians! To the right we have the fat girl that likes to believe she is hot but is horribly ugly! To the left we have the middle aged wanna-be skinny biker guy with a mullet and no front teeth! I see whites! Blacks! Asians! Hispanics! I see it all! I was worried about feeling out of place, going so far as to post a message asking how to dress. This was not at all needed. You can dress however you want and not really stand out. Well, that’s not true. You will stand out to the two of us because we make fun of others. Finally we decide to go in. There is a special entry way for those with floor tickets. We get checked by two Orlando Police Department officers and a few employees of the TD Waterhouse Centre. We get orange armbands that tell people, “Hey, not only did I spend the extra money to get to go to the floor, but I get this style’n band on my wrist! Take that you poor people in the seats!” We make our way to the actual auditorium. I stand, shocked. This is a damned concert. A real concert. A stage, countless seats around what is, I guess, “the floor.” This is where trouble can begin. No joke, there are EMTs stationed around the floor. I am going to enter into the battle. Actually, there is no battle seeing as how it is still not all too terribly crowded. We are forced to show our wrist bands and tickets a few more times, but we make it to the floor. I feel giddy. We are close enough to the stage where we can see
everything, as long as the occasional tall person does not get in the way. I agree with Stefanie, the floor should have height restrictions. I soon learn that you have to say “f*cking” before anything. The announcer comes out and begins to get the crowd excited, “HELLO, f*cking Orlando! Are you ready to f*cking rock?! I can’t f*cking hear you! We have f*cking kick f*cking ass opening acts! First Breaking f*cking Benjamin is going to come out, followed by f*cking Three Days Grace and ending with f*cking Seether! I SAID F*CKING SEETHER! SEEEEEEETHER!!!!! RAAAAWWWWKKK! And then, oh ya, and then F*CKING EVANESCENCE!!!! F*CK!” The crowd cheers. I smile. I have a new found appreciation for the F-Bomb. So, Breaking Benjamin comes out. I do not have a clue as to who they are. They begin to play, and in that split second, I go deaf. In no way, shape, or form was I even remotely prepared for how loud this was going to be. It is deafening. I have heard loud music, very loud music. I have set off exceptionally loud fireworks/firecrackers in my life that leave my ears ringing. And, louder than any of that, I have fired guns a few times without wearing ear protection and it, too, is absolutely deafening. All of that combined, though, does not prepare one for the sheer pain you feel the first time you hear them play a chord. My internal organs were shaking. I could FEEL them shake. It is hopeless trying to talk to the person next to you. It is simply not possible. We resorted to our own form of made up sign language to get us through during songs. We could talk between songs and between groups, though. Oddly, when each song was done and there was no music, it was hard to hear the person next to you. My ears were not ringing, they simply did not function. For them to ring would have been a blessing. By the time Breaking Benjamin is done, I realize that the entire place is filled to capacity. In fact, there is overflow up into the upper seats that had been closed off. There are people everywhere. I do not recognize a single song that Breaking Benjamin did. Let me take the time now to bring something up: I was wondering how Evanescence would perform. The stage was not at all large; it simply had a black looking tarp-thing and enough room for the drummer, a few guitar players, and a singer. Nothing more. This was it? Let me also say something about lesbians: There are the real lesbians. I do not mean they have to be butch or anything, just *real* lesbians. They mean it. They are in love with the person they are with. Then, sadly, we have the fake lesbians. These are, typically, high school aged girls that no guy likes, so they come together because “they don’t need guys!” They touch, they do stuff, but they are not lesbians, not even bisexual. They are faking it. As soon as a guy shows interest in them, they will go that way and never speak of their temporary lesbian times again. Then we have the middle school to high school cute girls that think they may be gay but have no idea what they really are. They are confused about their feelings but like feeling *something*. They may be gay, straight, bi, or something else. They just do not know, they do not know what their feelings are telling them. They are confused. These three different types are absolutely painfully obvious once you start looking. Next we have Three Days Grace. I say, “Play Kryptonite!” Stefanie elbows me and states, “That’s Three Doors Down! It’s not even the same group!” I am truely lame. This group talks a little between songs. They f*cking love Orlando and they f*cking have been here f*cking four times and have not yet f*cking been to Disney but they f*cking really want to go. I have no clue who this group is until…. “This is our last song. It’s doing really great. It’s getting major play time nationwide and we heard it’s in the top five here in the Orlando area! If ya know the lyrics, sing along!” They proceed to sing a song entitled I Hate Everything About You. I know this song! I HAVE heard it! I am in the presence of gods! A song I hear every day on the radio and HERE are the people responsible! I do not sing or anything, but it is, actually, kind of cool. They are done. I run up to the restroom and realize my zipper is already down. I wonder how long it has been down for. I buy a $3.00 Pepsi-Cola. I return to The Floor. I cannot go into detail as to why, exactly, but there was a kid there that I wanted to kill. I wanted him to vanish from the face of the Earth. I had to be held back from strangling him. I hated every last thing about him from his attire, to his hair, to his attitude, and just EVERYTHING. I wanted to completely erase him. A black backdrop is dropped against the already black back drop. This one says “Seether.” It is written like Satan himself wrote it! We wonder if ‘seether’ is a word. See The R? Seet Her? I have looked it up and now know what it means, so I am smarter for that. Now, I actually do know who Seether is. I have heard of them, heard some of their music. They play. Two songs before their final, Amy Lee (of Evanescence) comes to the stage and the crowd goes insane. It’s Amy Lee! It’s her! She sings with Seether for one song and vanishes. A god was among us! Seether plays their final song and proceeds to think it is the 1980s – early 1990s: he starts hitting the drum set with his guitar and then proceeds to destroy his guitar. People cheer. I wonder if that instrument costs more than most people make in a year. It saddens me. It’s half-time. People begin to run for a restroom break, get something to drink, adjust themselves. Everything is taken from the stage. It is empty. After about 15 minutes the lights go down and the music starts. Where the hell is my band?! The black background goes away and there is a huge set/stage. It was hidden! It is actually a very cool set. It looked like something out of Hellraiser combined with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre… just very clean. The lights were incredible. Stefanie, who has attended concerts, said they were the best she had ever seen. I was in awe. It really WAS cool. They play their entire album. During this time some funny stuff happens: Stefanie points out this horribly fat girl jumping up and down and becoming one with the music. I wish people would understand that fat girls have no right to become one with the music. The music does not want them. This girl is roughly 5’7″, stringy blond hair, about 50 pounds overweight (if not more), and jumping for all she’s worth. Stefanie makes fun of her flabby sides, and I am transfixed by the fact that she was even allowed in. She is a gorgeous specimen of grotesqueness. She was worth the price of admission alone. It is an image that will stay with me forever. Three songs in, it gets quiet and a piano rises from the stage. Amy Lee can not only sing but she can play the piano! Go, Amy! The lighting, again, is amazing, and she plays one of the slower songs. A few lighters start flickering to life around the arena. It is not even half the people, but it is enough to think to yourself, “Isn’t the entire lighter thing done with yet?” The lighters go off and then I see something that Stefanie missed: a poor kid try to bring back the lighters again. This kid is probably 14-16 and looks like a slightly smaller Anthony (for those that know him). About a minute after the lighters go out, he digs his out and holds it up high and proud! Absolutely no one else responds. He looks around, sweating, hoping. No, he is denied. After about one full minute of agony, he realizes he has lost and turns it off and quickly puts it back into his pocket. I laugh. Then one of the funniest things of the evening: I look up and to the right into the stands. There is yet another fat girl waddling down the steps and she is moving *perfectly* to the music being played. I point this out to Stefanie, and she proceeds to laugh so hard she nearly falls over. It is truely a once in a lifetime moment. Very funny. There are two girls in front of us, probably 13-15 years old. They absolutely cannot see at single thing. I’m about 5’9″, Stefanie an inch or two shorter, but these girls were tiny compared to
her. The pe
ple in front of them were just too tall. These poor girls could not see a thing. I feel bad, actually. Oh, while I am at it: putting a girl on your shoulders should not be allowed. I think they should hire snipers to take the girls out that end up on a guy’s shoulders. After 4+ hours or so, the show winds down. Amy states this is the last song. People rock out. They leave. Some people leave. Most people, though, begin to clap and not shut up. The London Symphony Orchestra came back for *four* encores. What would this group do? After a seemingly long time (minutes), they take the stage, “You guys want more?!” “Yes!” Amy looks at me, directly at me. I feel like Patrick Bateman at the Bono concert he attended. Stefanie grabs my hand and insists, demands, that because this is it, I simply must “pump” it into the air like everyone else. I comply. Half way through, she pretty much tells me to stop because I am completely off the rhythm and not matching anyone at all. I say I am. She, again, states that I am not. This is not the first time in my life I have heard this. I am doubting that it will be the last. The concert is over. We must leave. It was a ton of fun. I will be going again. If they come to town, I’m there. If not them, maybe I can find someone I want to see. I am deaf, though. But who needs hearing? It’s not that cool anyway. In fact, we both had fun, a ton of fun. Stefanie now wants their album. How nice. By the way, never, EVER buy any items at a concert. A $12 t-shirt for $30? No, ma’am. And that is that. Brandon

Posted March 31, 2005 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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