The Format Concert
Living in San Diego, Social Commentary August 6th, 2007Last week, me, Danny, Gavin, and Candyce went to see The Format in concert in Point Loma. They’re a fun Phoenix band with an upbeat sound. I’ve listened to them ever since I moved to Phoenix, but this was my first concert. Here’s how our night went down…
The First Rubios
Before the show, we went to the world’s first Rubios in Mission Beach to grab dinner. I know that Rubios could be dismissed as unoriginal, another version of the strip mall mainstays Chipotle and Baja Fresh. But their first restaurant was a kitchen on a busy road with only outdoor seating. It’s as “local” as you get. And since I like their authentic Mexican food, I’m okay with saying I’m a fan of Rubios and that eating at the OG Rubios was pretty cool.
Fun with Emo Kids
The opening band was The Honorary Title, a band I’ve never heard of. But I decided half way through their set that I liked their music. Since the concert, I’ve discovered that they are classified as “emo”, which is good to know.
My problem with the emo scene is that it’s so difficult to define what emo music actually sounds like. Half of the bands that I listen to are emo, and to date, the only thing that separates these guys from the other rock bands is they wear girls’ pants. And the lead singer usually has more swooping, emotional vocals as a opposed to the aggressive, fist-in-your face vocals of your standard rock band. That’s it.

Can you spot the emo kids? Learn how on yourscenesucks.com
We were thoroughly out of place because I wore mens’ pants and Candyce wore shorts that showed off her tan legs. I thought about being self-conscious, but I realized that it’s okay to become the older guy at a concert that doesn’t fit in. I give all the younger music fans something to worry about. What is he here for? What’s his deal? Plus, it’s mischievous to make their scene less cool because I interrupt the well appointed line up emo friends.
I know this is how they think;because I listened to alternative music back in the early 90s. I hated it when uncool people were at my cool alternative concerts. Because alternative was a new kind of rock that was unlike the hair bands that almost killed music in the 80s. My bands were raw. They were real. (I really don’t believe this, but it’s fun to write it like I would’ve said it back when I was 14.)
So emo of today is like alternative of yesterday, a new flavor of rock music that eventually works it’s way into the main-stream and ceases to become unique or worth identifying with. One difference between our two scenes is that, none of us back then would’ve been so hard-up for an identity back then to assign the name “alternative” to our clothes, friends, and ourselves. You listened to alternative music, but that didn’t make you an alternative. It feels awkward just writing about it because we never used that word in that way.
In the grand story of life, the previous;5 paragraphs have no significance. The world keeps spinning.
Behavior at Concerts: Some Things Don’t Change
It doesn’t matter what rock concert you go to, there is always a trail of four or five kids snaking their way through the crowd pretending they’re looking for someone or returning to their spot before they left for the bathrooms. All they are are really doing is preventing themselves from being judged by the people who are standing still and listening to the band.
This is how it works. The strongest, most confident and well-manicured emo friend leads this conga line through the crowd. From there back, each emo kid becomes more weak and fragile, like descending stair steps of cool. The person on the rear is no more than an underweight kid from marching band with his newly-died hair.
This single-file parade will continue until the kids have decided that it is safe to stop and actually listen to the band without fear of being judged uncool. I’m not kidding you, if you had a live, overhead video footage of any rock concert, there would be a half-dozen of these parades passing in and out of the crowd.
Comedian Mike Berbiglia
Mike Berbiglia was a comedian that did a set in between the bands. He was hysterical for the first ten minutes, and then he stumbled down the hill of predictability when he decided to make political jokes for 20 minutes.
This is your standard Bush-bashing that might have been relevant four years ago, but now it just comes off as unimaginative. It’s just like when people made BJ jokes about Bill Clinton four years after-the-fact. Even the most staunch Clinton-hater got tired of clapping to show disgust and solidarity.
To be honest, it’s as lame as a Christian rock band who isn’t that good, but keeps the crowd hyped by constantly asking “Who here loves God?” Sorry dude, I paid to hear you play. I can tell people I love God for free. Your job is to pick up your guitar and make some magic.
The Format
Everyone was happy when The Format finally took the stage. Watching a band live is always so interesting. With each song, you see more clearly the people and personalities behind your favorite songs. I’m happy they didn’t waste my time by talking about stupid stuff in between songs.
I don’t know why bands do this. Maybe it’s a trick they’ve learned from comedians. You plan brief moments of awkwardness that make the crowd uncomfortable. So when the real zinger comes 10 seconds later, they laugh with more intensity because the sucky part of their day has passed. So I suppose (now this is a stretch) that a lead singer says stupid things before a song because it builds tension that is meant to be relieved by their biggest radio hit. Still, it’s a bad idea. Your “best song” might suck, and now you’ve got a problem on your hands.
Now, if you are a big band, it’s a good idea to talk to the other guys in your band in between songs. This is exciting to fans because it’s like their watching a live, 15-second reality show between their lead man and guitarist-with-mystique. Like Jeff Bebe and Russell Hammond from Stillwater, or Anthony Keatus and Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The rule is that you can only do this mid-concert banter if you’ve sold at least a million albums. For the rest of you, just play your songs.
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