Running Concert Diary

Went to the Beastie Boys concert about three weeks ago. Time to check a life goal off of the list. I should probably set some real ones now.

Some famous writers have a "mailbag" of some sort, where they answer question from readers. I don't have one of these. I did, however, get a text question regarding the concert from a reader and will open with that:
Q: Well, did it change your body and soul?
JD: Yes, it did. I will attribute part of it to seeing the Beastie Boys live, but I will pin a larger part of my nirvanic experience on the contact high I got from the kids around me toking weed.

That mailbag was exhausting. While I'm at it ("it" = copying better writers), I will follow Bill Simmons' running diary format and take you through the "Get Out and Vote" concert I went to on 28 Oct.

6:59 -- Dave and I are sitting in the bleachers, waiting for the 7:00 start time; Dave is mid-sentence when Beastie Boys Mike D and MCA come out to MC. I'm halfway to the stage taking pictures with my camera before Dave realizes I'm gone.

7:00 -- Mike D and MCA introduce the opening singer, Santogold, with the obligatory "we're on the same tour, so we have to say she's super-talented, even though we've never listened to her music ourselves." Out walks a woman with two backup singers dressed in bug-eye sunglasses and shiny gold suits, like you would see alien invaders wear in old crappy sci-fi movies. Dave leans over to me and asks how much I want to bet that the backup singers are Santogold's two best friends from high school riding the gravy train. I chuckle my agreement.

But wait: Doesn't having a "gravy train" imply you've attained a level of success?

This is all a means to an end, I tell myself.

7:17 -- Santogold is still on stage and announces her next song. What is she still doing here? Weren't we courteous in tolerating her three songs? She is quickly becoming the Jar Jar Binks of this concert -- the annoying, unwanted sidekick whose presence the audience grows to hate.

7 freakin' 40 -- The excruciatingly long set -- 40 minutes -- ends to token applause containing undercurrents of resentment that Santogold took so much time.

Means to an end.

7:55 -- Norah Jones calms my nerves with her performance. I drift off to sleep and dream that her voice and Sarah Mclachlan's fight each other for my affection.

8:03 -- Norah spouts some politically-charged comments, and I am surprisingly OK with it. Hell, with that voice, she could advocate crystal meth usage, Tom Cruise for President, and nuclear war, and I'd agree with everything she had to say.

8:25 -- Jack Johnson walks on stage to huge applause. Also, this is apparently the universal cue for everyone to light up their joints. I didn't get the memo.

Which reminds me of one of my friends from high school who hot-boxed his cat once. Afterwards, the cat careened its way back to his parents' room. Five minutes later, his parents called him into their room: "Tim!" "Yeah?" "Why does the cat reak of dope?" "...because we hot-boxed him."

8:48 -- I notice that the guy in front of me, who is about the same height but weighs about 230lb, has been completely motionless with his hands in his pockets since Jack Johnson has started playing. I've seen roadkill move more than this guy. I'll be checking in with him later.

9:05 -- Sheryl Crow walks on-stage in a tightly tied black trenchcoat that screams either "I am completely naked under here" or "I am selling cheap watches out of this thing." She looks seriously haggard, as if she hasn't slept or eaten since she and Lance Armstrong broke up. Rough year for Ms. Crow.

9:28 -- I consider yelling out "home-wrecker!" in between songs but decide not to. Sheryl decides to spout political drivel at us, using cliched phrases like "you can make a difference! I know you can!" Spare me.

Besides blinking, Roadkill remains unmoved.

9:42 -- The percentage of Sheryl's set has shifted to 85% political rant, 15% music. I could see her pursuing a political career filled with pointless rhetoric and little action.

Means to an end...

10:06 -- Still have this sneaking suspicion that in between some songs, Sheryl will spout off some more political drivel and then tag on, almost as an aside: "Hah... funny thing... a portion of the ticket proceeds will actually go to my next botox treatment since I have missed my last two. Anyway, the next song is 'Every Day is a Winding Road.' Sing along if you know the words!"

10:10 -- I've been here for 3+ hours. What did I come here for? I can't remember anymore. Dave reminds me that I came to see the Beastie Boys.

10:15-11:15 -- Beasties enter to "Sure Shot," bring the house down, and I spend the next hour screaming every word to every song.

Roadkill remains unchanged the entire time. Unbelievable.