July 19, 2002
The Weezer Concert
=w=. Need I say more?
Yes, actually.
Upon arriving at the Polaris Amphitheatre in Columbus, after an hour and a half of driving at a regular pace and then a full forty minutes of horrific traffic, you would've heard me half-shouting:
"There is no such thing as urine or food! We're at the Weezer concert!"
And, indeed, there was not. Chris' strange friend Kevin, with a quasi-afro, wanted to see the band opening for the opening band, an outfit called Sparta. They really weren't all that bad. I don't care so much for the screaming, but when the guy was singing and the guitar was creepy and slow, they were pretty damn good.
Due to an undisclosed 'injury' The Strokes did not play, which meant that we got to see Dashboard Confessional! I swooned multiple times, to say the least, though I was surprised to note that Chris Carrabba's voice is much weaker live than on the album. Still sweet, but weak.
I was also rather excited when he would play a song preceded by him saying this was for the old fans, of which I was at least partially one! They played lovely revamped versions of 'Turpentine Chaser', 'The Swiss Army Romance', and 'Screaming Infidelities'.
The set is closed with his promises that Weezer is going to rock us.
And they did.
Chris and I were on the edge of our seats waiting for the Weezer set to begin, our eyes darting from the stage to our watches and back again. Finally, the lights come down. There is half-shadowed motion on the stage, and then my eyes fell upon the gorgeous, genius creature that is Rivers Cuomo, bedecked in a white tuxedo shirt and a black tie, black sunglasses perched on his nose. His first words?
"I'm dead sexy."
And it's his voice. And it's him. And that's his guitar. And that's Brian in an orange t-shirt. And that's the drummer, bald. And the bassist... playing the... bass.
They opened with 'Buddy Holly.' The crowd was jumping up and down and dancing and singing along at the top of their lungs and banging their hands against the plastic seats in front of them. I was not exempt from this raucus behavior.
Between songs Rivers would say strange, quirky things, that is, if he wasn't making each song three or four minutes longer than it actually was, his guitar reverberating almost as though it had a mind of its own. I recognized about three fourths of what they played, and knew the words to about half. I loved every minute of it despite. 'The Sweater Song', 'Hashpipe', 'Island in the Sun', 'Tired of Sex', 'Why Bother', and 'The Good Life' were among some of those I knew.
Their finale included the huge Weezer 'W' emerging from the stage, with the drummer on top, and moving to hover above them. With the drummer on top.
It was wicked.
There were flames shooting up everywhere and crazy red and green and purple lights. 'In the Garage' was played feverishly and accompanied as much so by the crowd. They exited the stage, and the crowd began chanting their name and banging on the seats. Innumerable pairs of hands were in the air, w's abounding.
So they came back.
And launched into 'El Scorcho', with Rivers shouting into the microphone, "Are you satisfied?"
Could ever we be?
It was just plain wicked. I nearly passed out of a heat stroke and hadn't eaten in about twelve hours and couldn't hear anything and was hoarse and my sinuses were fucked up from sickness... but it was wicked.
I must apologize profusely to you because I wasn't allowed to take any pictures. It upsets me probably as much as it does you, because I had my heart set on a picture of Rivers, or at least the big flaming W. But alas, we were not allowed. I barely kept my camera from being confiscated.
But I bought a shirt for thirty fucking dollars. I couldn't help it.
It's sparkly. Does that make the exorbitant price okay?
I didn't think so.
O, I want a Rivers of my own...
astera at 10:36 a.m.