Post by radioclash on Jan 1, 2006 21:04:38 GMT -5
Okay, fess up which one of you MC.org'ers wrote this!
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www.suburbanchicagonews.com/heraldnews/entertainment/j23emily.htm
O.A.R. makes Emily feel O.L.D.
Emily Paints the Town
My first concert was in fifth grade. Accompanied by my extremely patient dad, I sat in the nosebleed seats, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the New Kids on the Block. Though my only memory from that night is falling off my dad's shoulders (I may still be affected), I believe that night started my love of concerts.
During the summer, my friend Wendy and I shared a love of the show Rock Star: INXS and the show's second-place finisher, Marty Casey. When we found out that his band, the Lovehammers, along with O.A.R., would be playing at Q101's Twisted Christmas at the Aragon, we got tickets immediately.
I hadn't been to a concert at the Aragon in about five years. The concerts I attend these days (Journey, Van Halen, Buffett) usually are at larger venues. There's another difference between my usual concerts and those at smaller venues: mass quantities of high schoolers attend smaller concerts.
Our evening began as I met Wendy at the Illinois 59 train station. Our train car filled up with teens in Abercrombie sweatshirts screaming about O.A.R. While I enjoy O.A.R (a cross between Rusted Root and Dave Matthews Band), I probably know two of their songs. Wendy and I looked at each other; were we going to be the oldest people at this concert?
The kids, sitting in the upper section of the train car, immediately screamed down to us, "Are you going to see O.A.R.?"
We said yes, and they looked at us in disbelief.
This led to a challenge from one of the Abercrombers: "So what does O.A.R. stand for?"
My response: "I have no idea; I want to see the Lovehammers."
This shut them up ... briefly.
Unfortunately, a tragedy occurred on the way to the concert: our train hit a pedestrian. While most passengers seemed overcome by the gravity of the situation, this was not the case for the teens up top. One of them hoped he would get to be on the news; others complained about getting to the concert late, and another one started lighting up cigarettes. The sneaky smoker's actions led to a number of the adults on the train yelling at the teens in what one kid referred to as "Oprah moments." Eventually, we switched trains to head downtown and managed to find a teen-free car.
We got to the concert late but still in time to see a few of the Lovehammers' songs, including our favorite, "Trees." My future husband Marty was resplendent in red and had command of the stage. However, Wendy and I noticed something odd as we looked at our surrounding crowd: we were the only ones with wristbands and beer. Perhaps we were indeed the oldest people at the concert.
As we waited for O.A.R. to start, we surveyed the crowd. Most of the girls at the concert were not dressed weather-appropriately, though some did opt to wear footless tights under their tiny jean skirts. Many teens took advantage of this break from Mom and Dad by making out heavily with their significant others.
After averting our eyes, Wens and I noticed two giant screens on either side of the stage. You could send text messages to a phone number, and they would show up on the screen. This was a suburban audience; messages such as "Palatine's where it's at!" and "Hinsdale!!!" filled the screen. For local flavor, we saw "Morris Beat JCA" quite a number of times. Way to rub it in, guys.
After O.A.R. started, and most of the over 21 crowd apparently vacated, we decided to hang out at the back of the venue. Among our neighbors was a pair of lads in matching striped sweaters, whom we dubbed Harry and Ron. After I asked them if this fashion choice was planned, one of them was taken away by security guards. Maybe he had performed some illegal magic inside Hogwarts. I mean the Aragon.
Soon it was time to beat the crowd and leave early. We stopped at the Q101 table, took a picture with a random station employee and picked up free parting gifts: buttons and, oddly, fingertipless gloves. We soon headed home.
Lesson learned: when attending concerts, consider the age group of the attended audience and adjust patience level accordingly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
www.suburbanchicagonews.com/heraldnews/entertainment/j23emily.htm
O.A.R. makes Emily feel O.L.D.
Emily Paints the Town
My first concert was in fifth grade. Accompanied by my extremely patient dad, I sat in the nosebleed seats, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the New Kids on the Block. Though my only memory from that night is falling off my dad's shoulders (I may still be affected), I believe that night started my love of concerts.
During the summer, my friend Wendy and I shared a love of the show Rock Star: INXS and the show's second-place finisher, Marty Casey. When we found out that his band, the Lovehammers, along with O.A.R., would be playing at Q101's Twisted Christmas at the Aragon, we got tickets immediately.
I hadn't been to a concert at the Aragon in about five years. The concerts I attend these days (Journey, Van Halen, Buffett) usually are at larger venues. There's another difference between my usual concerts and those at smaller venues: mass quantities of high schoolers attend smaller concerts.
Our evening began as I met Wendy at the Illinois 59 train station. Our train car filled up with teens in Abercrombie sweatshirts screaming about O.A.R. While I enjoy O.A.R (a cross between Rusted Root and Dave Matthews Band), I probably know two of their songs. Wendy and I looked at each other; were we going to be the oldest people at this concert?
The kids, sitting in the upper section of the train car, immediately screamed down to us, "Are you going to see O.A.R.?"
We said yes, and they looked at us in disbelief.
This led to a challenge from one of the Abercrombers: "So what does O.A.R. stand for?"
My response: "I have no idea; I want to see the Lovehammers."
This shut them up ... briefly.
Unfortunately, a tragedy occurred on the way to the concert: our train hit a pedestrian. While most passengers seemed overcome by the gravity of the situation, this was not the case for the teens up top. One of them hoped he would get to be on the news; others complained about getting to the concert late, and another one started lighting up cigarettes. The sneaky smoker's actions led to a number of the adults on the train yelling at the teens in what one kid referred to as "Oprah moments." Eventually, we switched trains to head downtown and managed to find a teen-free car.
We got to the concert late but still in time to see a few of the Lovehammers' songs, including our favorite, "Trees." My future husband Marty was resplendent in red and had command of the stage. However, Wendy and I noticed something odd as we looked at our surrounding crowd: we were the only ones with wristbands and beer. Perhaps we were indeed the oldest people at the concert.
As we waited for O.A.R. to start, we surveyed the crowd. Most of the girls at the concert were not dressed weather-appropriately, though some did opt to wear footless tights under their tiny jean skirts. Many teens took advantage of this break from Mom and Dad by making out heavily with their significant others.
After averting our eyes, Wens and I noticed two giant screens on either side of the stage. You could send text messages to a phone number, and they would show up on the screen. This was a suburban audience; messages such as "Palatine's where it's at!" and "Hinsdale!!!" filled the screen. For local flavor, we saw "Morris Beat JCA" quite a number of times. Way to rub it in, guys.
After O.A.R. started, and most of the over 21 crowd apparently vacated, we decided to hang out at the back of the venue. Among our neighbors was a pair of lads in matching striped sweaters, whom we dubbed Harry and Ron. After I asked them if this fashion choice was planned, one of them was taken away by security guards. Maybe he had performed some illegal magic inside Hogwarts. I mean the Aragon.
Soon it was time to beat the crowd and leave early. We stopped at the Q101 table, took a picture with a random station employee and picked up free parting gifts: buttons and, oddly, fingertipless gloves. We soon headed home.
Lesson learned: when attending concerts, consider the age group of the attended audience and adjust patience level accordingly.
