while lying in bed, cursing myself for the prior night's binger, i couldn't move. couldn't muscle the energy to slip on a t-shirt or brush my film plastered teeth. my arm was sticky. hair, its typical rat's nest. needed food. badly. but couldn't justify forking over the twenty bones for pizza delivery unless it was shared. all my other peeps were equally uninterested in leaving their respective hungover bed zones, so i decided to text my ex-bf in hopes of splitting a pizza since he lives the closest to me. instead of accepting said pizza offer, however, he offered me up a free ticket to check cursive/alkaline trio at their sold out set at the metro.
really? i thought. i didn't know how to respond. i mean, man. i have some memories of my alk 3 days. back in the summer of 2001, when i first moved out of my mom's house and into my first very own place, what they called 'Bates Motel', (complete with neon hotel sign, yes), in the woodsy back parking lot of tommy bartlett in the dells. with its rape me wooden path, spider infestation, gravel driveway hidden by trees, this was probably the coolest place i ever lived in. sure, my roommate was a fat, spoiled slob who i despised. alyssa, *shudder*. but, the vintage greasy spoon like booth for the kitchen table, 70's floral design curtains and creepy novelty of the joint was pretty radical. the raccoons knocked our garbage cans over on a nightly basis. deer often trampled down our stairs and would scare the bejusus out of me in the middle of the night, poking their heads against my bedroom window. bunkbed.
i didn't really have any friends that summer. i befriended a pack of finnish girls, but because it was my first year at bartlett's and i worked at robot world (the very bottom of the tbi social ladder, mind you - my climb up the hierarchy to the prestige of ticket seller didn't come until 2002), i pretty much stuck to myself. worked the 8-10 hours, worked part-time at the night ski show selling cotton candy and popcorn whenever they needed my help. would drive my shitty constantly breaking down 93 red ford tempo to madison or home to argyle whenever i had a day off. hang out with my high school friends.
i remember this was a turning point in my life. not yet in college, definitely done with high school. i was an "adult?" i dont' know, not really. i still shopped at hot topic, so i was for sure hella clueless. lots of glittery gummy bracelets and bad music. but this summer also transformed my musical tastes. in the summer of 2001 i spent several hours locked in my shitty bedroom, batting at milipedes and searching for new tunes. i picked up a vagrant records sampler at hot topic for five bucks. it had both alkaline trio and reggie and the full effect on it. i also listened to get up kids' "something to write home about" religiously. i was experimenting in my next pseduo "punk"/emo phase. dashboard confessional, saves the day - they didn't follow until uw-river falls that forthcoming fall semester. that's another story.
but as soon as i heard "thanks for staying," by reggie and "crawl" by alkaline trio - i felt some sort of comfort. knowing, ok, at least i'm not rocking out to o.a.r. and dave matthews like the rest of these college kids pretending to be hippies at their summer jobs. i'm "alternative." just like high school, intentionally separating myself from the pack, lonely and bored. i remember one particular day specifically, where i had driven to the wal-mart in search of some new tunes. i purchased two very significant albums this day - both destiny's child "writings on the wall" and jimmy eat world's "bleed american." so maybe just in the recent year or so, i dusted off "writings on the wall" and guiltlessly admitted my secret love for bills bills bills and say my name, (who can forget bug-aboo or jumpin jumpin? even at age 18, i kept my d.c love a secret and scoffed whenever they played them on mtv or the radio, secretly tapping my foot and getting my inner girl groove on). but jimmy eat world? goddamn. sure, they played the death out of the middle and sweetness kind of pissed me off a bit too, but praise chorus? the self titled track? fuck, even now, some 9 years later, when i hear "hear you me" start to strum on my ipod, i'm instantly back on that carpeted linty floor, leaning on the red iron bars of my bunk bed, wallowing in self-pity and wishing for my life to begin. sad. but still listening anyway. i was sooooo deep.
kidding aside, those albums, (aside from d.c), marked the beginning of my journey to where i am today as a music critic/fan/whatever. i hadn't ever listened to anything like alk 3 before, and it was something i had discovered on my own, without the influence of magazines, television or a friend's word of mouth. no social networking, internet obsession, blogosphere then like there is today. back then i had to pay $.50/minute to surf the web at the internet cafe. hella lame. no wireless then. . .
so fast forward nine years. no longer at bates motel, but now in my real grown-up apartment in chicago. Was i even interested in alk 3 anymore? could it even be amusing for a novelty nostalgia trip? hell if i knew, there last few albums sucked pretty hardcore and i didnt think i could pretend to get into it and didn't want to be lousy company for mike. but he needed a companion and was offering the ticket for free. hadn't hung in a while, and what the hell else do i have to do with my time these days? being unemployed is so strange. no concept of days/time, etc. just laying around half naked in my butterfly robe my sister in law gave me when i was 12. playing online. drinking coffee. not being constructive. so yes, even though i was hung over and in a great deal of self-induced discomfort, i decided i had nothing to lose to accept the tik to the metro.
picked up a frozen pizza, a few brews and strolled across the park to mike's apartment. we made it to the show just as cursive opened up with "from the hips." cursive delivered a somewhat dry set. i dont' know, like i was telling mike, i have a love/hate relationship with cursive. they have the potential/talent/capability to blow my freaking mind and some of their past performances have topped my concert going experiences (sxsw last year for sure), but other times they just piss me off and drag their shit on forever with old material and lackluster energy. never any banter, which is fine as long as you are offering up a mind blowing performance instead, but nope. last nite it wasn't horrible, but there was def something missing. maybe it was the fact they were playing a 6:30 pm all ages show for a bunch of kids who weren't even born when alk 3 released maybe i'll set fire. fuck, the dudes from cursive are prob old enough to be some of those kids' grandfathers. i can see how thatd' be hard to rock it out.
next thing i know it's 8:30 and trio takes the stage. they open up with their new single from their new album, "this addiction." i could. not. stop. laughing. i turned to mike and was like, 'wow, genius lyrics here." something along the lines of repeating THIS AD-DIC-TIOOOOOOON with formulic power pop riffs. but soon enough, i quit laughing and just started smiling, bobbing along in recognition to a good chunk of my younger years. it seemed like they damn near played 'from here to infirmiry' in completion, which was my summer of 2001 go-to album. transported to bates, warped tour, being a lil young'in. they played private eye, stupid kid, armageddon and my fave, crawl. their drummer was insane. he made going apeshit crazy appear effortless on that drumkit. i was impressed. the sound was tight, the crowd - hilarious, and this was the first show where i witnessed crowd-surfing and the cliche energetic devil's horn hand gestures getting tossed around in probably 8 years. dudes def knew their fanbase and how to work them. they even closed with "radio." i found myself getting bored probably halfway through their set, but all in all, i was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying the performance. i'd turn to mike every other song, "is this that counting song?" "this one's from good mourning, right?" "did they just say satan? no, sadie? oh yeah thats the charles manson song right?" he would just smile and pat my shoulder. i felt like a 3-year old. but at the same time, still remembered every single goddamn word.
post-show, (10:00 PM - way past kiddies' bedtime), we headed to big joe's to shoot the shit over a pitcher or two of pbr. decent night, decent time. total trip down yesterday lane. both musically and company wise. mike reminded me how i brought him to the goddamnit tour in milwaukee for his bday in 2005. i totally forgot about that. turns out there was a lot i had forgotten. but infrequent surprising reminders are definitely more than welcome. i hadn't revisited bates motel in quite some time. . . .
so here's to you, mr. skiba and crew - thanks for making me remember who i was and how i got to be here in the now as the miss jodi robin root i am today. i will gladly shout along to "dogs shitting razor blades" in your honor anytime. but as far as the hot topic gear goes, i think i'll pass.
