CAUTION: For the next 2 to 30 minutes (depending on how fast you read) I will be bragging about my luck and expertise in the music arena. Not playing music, I’ll leave that to the talented people, but my knack for getting into, getting backstage, getting free stuff at, and other participatory concert stuff. My shenanigans are known all around
Monticello the world. This post is full of name-dropping and awesome music memories. If you don’t want to hear about how awesome I am… this particular blog post is not for you.
I’m not exactly sure how many of you all actually know me… but if you’ve barely met me for 5 minutes, you know how the first thing I ask people is “Know of any good concerts to go to coming up?” (Okay, the actual first thing I typically ask is “Do you have any beer in the fridge?” or “How old do you think I am?” or “What’s your favorite dirty word in Japanese?”) Whatever, I usually get around to asking about music at some point during my meeting with a new person.
Seriously, I may have a concert addiction. (An addiction I apparently share with Emo kids. UGH) I have been to nearly 120 separate concerts, starting from the time I was about 11 or 12 years old. I have seen legends like Santana (YOINKS!) and BB King (hilarious guy) and Bob Dylan (meh…). Also in my repertoire of performances seen are Bon Jovi (“Bon Jovi ball sweat is like angel tears”- not me), Dave Matthews Band (J) and the Twisted Sister Tribute Band (better than the original and way more makeup). Lest you think that I have a rock-oriented brain… my music preference extend way past those of any one particular genre. Keith Urban (*swoon*) and Kenny Chesney (turbo energetic) are two of my favorite country live-music peeps, as is Gary Allen (more swoon). I’ve gotten drumsticks, tee-shirts, backstage passes, set lists, tickets, guitar picks (over 50 collected- WOOT!), handshakes, been on tour buses, and was even given a phone number by Chris Cagle’s guitarist. I'm a boss.
This kind of thing doesn’t happen because I am some crazed celebrity musician stalker. I genuinely enjoy concerts, music, and talent. Celebrities don’t make me all weak at the knees and nervous and scared. I think that might be why I get backstage a lot (that and because I win things CONSTANTLY). Personally, I think it’s easy to hang out with me. Musicians don’t want people freaking out and screaming about how amazing they are… well, they might, but that kind of reaction doesn’t float my boat. Also, I’m nice. I talk to people and try and help out. The guitarist for Cagle (I won’t name names) gave me his number because I offered to help him pass out flyers for the concert, I thought he was some college kid trying not to die in the heat while giving out the brochures about the show. Turns out that he wasn’t. And my girlfriend, Carolyn, and I ended up on the tour bus hanging out and eating pizza with the band, Chris, and the crew. Fun, right?
Been to concerts at fairgrounds, opera houses, bars, clubs, stadiums, Churchill Downs, civic centers, patios, and basements. These venues have been located in Florida, Georgia, Alabama, Miami (not Florida), Mexico, Kentucky, Mississippi, and Tennessee… and now Japan. I recently attended my first Japan concert (OMG right?!) I know what you all are thinking… “Oh that crazy Megan, she gets herself into so many predicaments, I can’t wait to hear about this.” Alas, my friends, there are no crazy stories about this concert. Unless you call going to Tokyo, to see a TALLAHASSEE band, crazy! Or unless you think that meeting the 5 bands in a restaurant and eating with them is crazy. Or unless you think getting a free backstage pass and ticket, that would have normally cost $100, is crazy. Also, if you think spending the night in a “hotel” room the size of an office cubicle (a small one) is crazy. And especially if you think that partying for the rest of the night along with your 10 new Japanese friends and missing your train home is crazy… in that case, yes, this is a crazy concert story. Well dang, I guess I blew all the surprises in the story. But as is usually the case with my blogging, I’ll give to the quick run-down of what had happened.
I found out there was a concert in Tokyo. This concert happened to be with American bands (and one Swedish band, I think). Went to Tokyo to spend the day and later attend concert. Went to lunch. Listened in on American tourist convos at Freshness Burger. At one point one of the tourists said something hilarious and I laughed, spraying my drink all over my burger. I was busted. They knew I was eavesdropping and asked me if I spoke English. My response: “Si!” Lol. Yes, yes I did say that. They laughed, I laughed, Japanese people scowled. They asked if I lived in the area or if I was visiting. Living. I asked the same. Visiting. They asked where I was from. Tallahassee, FL. I asked them. Tallahassee, FL.
WTF? Yes, they were the bands playing that night. I ended up joining them the rest of the afternoon. The amazing bands included, Mayday Parade, the Summer Set, Anarbor and With the Punches. They were so awesome. I helped them practice Japanese. Took pics of the guys with their adoring fans. Played rock paper scissors and participated in all sorts of non-raunchy band fun. It was a blast. Got a pass into the show. Which I never expected them to do… okay, I did expect it because I am awesome and I’m from the same freaking town as the headlining act. And I could kind-of-sort-of-pretend-to-maybe-partially translate. Hell, they didn’t know how much Japanese (I don’t) speak. But everyone was turbo nice (with the exception of one of the foreign guys who was creepy).
So the performances were amazing. I didn’t see the first 2 groups because I was outside the area conversatin’ with the locals and the Mayday guys. Heck, I was so happy I would have talked to a brick wall with a face drawn on it in chalk. (Actually, I may have.) But this isn’t a “judge Megan” story… so I shall continue on. After concerts were over, stuck around canoodling and hanging with the awesome new Japanese lady friends (whom I met because I asked if they wanted me to take a picture-see, niceness- and they wanted one with me too. They really only spoke Japanese, but finally communicated in the universal language by asking me “Facebook?” So now we’re all facebook BFFs).
No, this picture has nothing to do with this story.
But I bought a flamingo for my office at work and wanted to show people.
His name is Fred. His name is Fred because I like alliteration.
We were there forever. I realized that it was 11:30pm. Oops. The shows started at 6pm. I was there almost 7 hours at that point. Can I make the train home? Nope. Can I make the train to a populated area with hotels? Yup. So off I went with my new buddies. We got into Shibuya and decided to hit up one more club. It was fabulous. Do I remember the name? No. Could I find it again? Not without assistance. We stayed there for another 2 hours and then we called it a night. They all lived in the area so they could go home but I needed a hotel type place. I was taken to this awesome little place called Moopi (?).
My new posse. We rock.
Moopi is a manga comics place for dorks and for people who miss the train and for people who want to take a nap during lunch break. It was 1200Y ($15ish) for 8 hours at Moopi, which included your own personal computer, TV, and cubicle with a locking door. The floor was made out of pleather couch material so you could pass out in comfort. If you felt like they hadn’t cleaned it well enough, they provided antibacterial wipes to make you more comfortable. You could take a shower. Buy the soap and rent a towel (shower cost: 100Y- $1.25USD). You could buy Ramen to eat. You could chillax in your cubby and eat and watch TV and surf the net and sleep and completely not care about missing the train. That’s what I did.
My cubicle in Moopi- no I didn't make up the name.
When the girls had gotten me checked into Moopi, they headed off to their houses. I took my shower and thought about how amazing life was. I Facebooked with a couple of my US people because they just had to know about my night. 8 hours later… after being too excited to sleep a full night, I explored Tokyo a bit more and then headed home with a big shit-eating grin on my face. Life was good.
That’s my 1st-concert-in-Japan-awesomeness story. I’d say more, but just can’t risk making you any more jealous than you already should be.
I love you guys!