That’s the thing about concerts, they’re a feeling, an
experience and it’s hard to convey just what it’s like to be there. The floor
becomes one massive person. There is no individual any more, just one big, hot
mess.
The speakers are really too loud for the space, but it just
wouldn’t be right if you turned it down any. The floor beneath you starts to
vibrate with the bass and after the first couple songs you get used to it and
don’t feel it anymore. Your ears adjust to the amps and speakers and you have
to yell to be heard.
The opening band might suck, but if you’re lucky you get
someone good. Sometimes, they’re so good you walk away a new fan and they make
more money selling you their t-shirts. You meet them after the show by their
merch table and have them sign your phone case (or that t-shirt you just
bought).
(Justin Richards & Eric Halvorsen of ARTTM)
The headlining band comes on. They play your favorite song.
You sing along like you’re facing the devil in a sing off: the loudest wins and
the loser sells their soul. If you mute the sound, the hands in the air look
like you’re at a church service. People on the outskirts of the group are half
drunk and dancing. They play their hit single and everyone moves in closer and
you get to know people you didn’t really want to know.
Then it’s over. You hang out in the back of the venue trying
to recover before you drive home. You look at your friends and just smile. You’re
breathing heavy and sweaty but still on an adrenaline rush like you were just
released from a hostage situation.
You drive home, singing all the songs you just had rape your
ears. You see your favorite member rocking out all over again in your head. You
lay in bed looking at the pictures you took on your phone. You tweet about how
awesome it was.
Tomorrow you’ll still be ecstatic but the next day you’ll
come down with Post Concert Depression. You’ll look at your pictures longingly,
listen to the songs yearning to have them sung to you again. You’ll miss it. It
becomes an addiction, and soon you’ll have a shoe box under your bed of all the
ticket stubs and concert memorabilia you’ve collected over the years.
The All-American Rejects with A Rocket to the Moon was my
first real concert, and looking back now I had no idea it would be as life
changing as it was. I almost didn’t go.
My friend forced me into it and I’m so glad she did. I have the best memories
of that night. I discovered one of my favorite bands.
That summer turned out to be one of the best, and since then
I’ve been to countless concerts. I’m not finished, though. There are plenty
more.
What was your first concert?
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