June 15, 2013

The Menzingers

When I told a friend I was going to see a punk rock show on Wednesday night, she said I didn't look much like a punk rocker. I'm definitely not, but I just really happen to love this band. When I was first introduced to their music, I liked their sound a lot, but didn't expect to love them as much as I do now. Then, the more I listened to them and heard their lyrics, I became a pretty big fan. Their show in Brooklyn was sold out, so a friend and I drove down into New Jersey and saw them play at Asbury Lanes; they literally build a stage over the bowling ally. I'm not sure what I was expecting going into this show; I've seen videos of them performing live with a mosh pit audience and so I expected to get tossed around, have people thrown on top of me, stomped in the face, and have beer poured on me. When the band was doing their sound check, I thought, "This is great! Everyone's nice and calm, there's enough space between me and that sixteen year old over there. I can totally handle this." 

Well. As soon as they began playing their first song, people just started shoving each other for no apparent reason. And then people started diving off the stage. Sometimes getting caught and sometimes smashing to the floor. And almost hit their heads against the overhead lights. At first I stayed by the side of the stage and but then I eventually got swept up in the tide of people and just fully embraced what was happening. My friend stayed on the outside of the mosh pit, but honestly, I feel like it just wouldn't have been the same if I wasn't close to the stage and surrounded by people who were screaming the songs out loud like I was. 

It was an interesting experience; it was so hot, I was literally drenched in sweat, and at points it felt like I couldn't breathe because of the people crushing against me. Also, there was no air in my lungs from screaming the songs out loud. As uncomfortable as that was, there is no feeling quite like singing/screaming at the top of your lungs to your favorite songs. By their encore, I was pressed right up against the stage and if I had an ounce more of courage, I probably would have jumped on the stage and crowd surfed, or sang into the microphone with one of the lead singers, or just spazzed out from sheer excitement. Instead, I stayed where I was, tried not to get hit in the head with people jumping in every direction, and soak it all in. I went in with straight hair and came out with drenched curly hair. And while I did get tossed, tumbled, stomped on, pushed around, and fallen on, I managed to escape getting booze thrown on me. So, despite all of this, it didn't quite feel like the full experience. To fix that, I poured some beer on me once I got home. First punk rock show: Success.

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