Nothing to Wear
I wasn’t a very socially acceptable teen. I mean, I got along with everybody well enough, especially when they wanted help with homework, but I wasn’t into the rabid fan, fashion shopping spree, squee, painted nails, up all night convo, boyfriend gossip party…ness. In fact, I can solidly say I pretty much gave up on boybands when I was ten.
Now I’m almost thirty and about to attend my very first rock concert. Ever. Mind you, I’ve been in music education for nearly a decade already, but I’ve never officially been to THE quintessential American musical experience- a crowd full of thrashing, hormonal, screaming fans cheering on screaming guitars and drums. But…
A band that I’ve respected since my college days has finally made it low enough in their careers to consider going to my city- and I couldn’t be happier. Well, maybe they’re not “low” in their careers, just a bit older and not as single as they used to be, therefore not making thirteen year old girls and boys break into a sweat over the mere mention of their name. And that’s alright with me, because they are some of the most poetic, musical rock musicians this side of Muse.
I’m angsty, nervous, excited, and haven’t a single clue what to expect. I will, undoubtedly, bring you many, many pictures. Wish me luck.