Hello, babies. It has come to my attention that I have not written about one of the most bombastically jolly musical experiences which only occurred recently. On June 30, The Minks along with Dog Powered Robot opened up a can of ITHOUGHTIWASDREAMING onto a packed house at downtown Disney. On a Saturday night. Even better!
See all the unicorn-toting fun that's going down on the left? Yeah, that's my band Andy Matchett and the Minks playing House of Blues. I never thought that I'd have the opportunity to play the same stage on which so many of my musical idols have played. Let me give you some background: At this particular HOB, I saw my very first concert. Ever. And I have been to a LOT of concerts. But not only was it my first live show, it was by my favourite band, Dashboard Confessional. (Web spiders may not know this, though all of my friends do- figured it still needed mentioning.) Needless to say, said show blew my mind, and not just because Chris Carrabba shone with an otherworldly glow. Come to think of it, that probably helped, actually. But you get me.
And six years later, I now got the chance to take that very same stage. Here, I got a taste for what life as a musician can mean after years of playing in crappy, integrity-less bands. I have had dealings with a lot of tools who claimed that music was their priority. //NOTE: This will not be a rant post since I'm too busy thinking about Fisher Miga, the little pom pom whose presence was greatly missed. My one snarky complaint of the night? That the venue staff wouldn't allow one of the most precious animals in the world to be a part of a show. HIS show. Hell, I would've gone just to see that cream puff beast. I am getting ahead of myself. //
Anyway! There was a lot behind the planning of this concert. Andy is known for being really up on his frontmanship and general band game. His coif is basically a molded sign pointing to "I'M REALLY AWESOME" atop his head. C'mon. We made a deal to have DPR help us out. That means dancing robots, confetti, balloons, gigantic balloon arms, THE parachute, general revelry, rainbows bursting from everyone's eyeballs, etc. We even had to have a band meeting about stage directions. Here is a picture of me worrying I'm going to fall on my ass or something equally as concerning:
Or perhaps I was thinking about how I could be backstage at HOB. Doesn't seem like a big deal to all you pro musicians out there reading this blog, does it? WELL, IT WAS. There was a clean shower, weird, faux-folk artwork (gigantic cigarette boxes included - GO CANCER!), huge couches [probably covered in something I'd rather not discover] and a stocked fridge.
That's luxury, people.
Though it may seem silly, the mystique is hardly something to sneeze at. Sure, you get used to various venues and green rooms (if there are any) over the course of your involvement with a band. But there's always a small sense of wonderment about what a different lifestyle musicians live and/or getting to play at a venue where you never thought you'd end up. For me, anyway. And that's from classical AND rock perspectives. That's not to say, however, that I showered there instead of at a close-by hotel. We're all a little high maintenance sometimes. Except for me it's all the time.
Speaking of high maintenance, ladies- can I get you to raise your hands/holler if you've spazzed about a show outfit before? Because I was practically deucing my pants. And I wasn't even wearing any. Good thing there are places like Forever 21 and Charlotte Russe where I can go and publicly cry into the closest hipster scarf/dress I can find. We all need the comfort of trends sometimes. So basically, I found a smokin' dress at CR and proceeded to mentally purchase it before even trying it on. When I tried it on, I wanted to buy myself in whatever context that even means. I couldn't afford to buy myself if I even wanted. But it was a nice thought while it lasted (twss).
Time for an outfit breakdown (rawr?) :
dress: Charlotte Russe (Femme Fatale collection)
hat: vintage (from my cousin Hannah)
jewelry: "infamous" scissor necklace from Dressed Boutique (DeLand, FL)
I was going for the vintage look- did I succeed? I wore stockings so that my pale legs wouldn't blind the audience either, since the neon of my dress could have done the same. The dress wasn't low cut or massively short, so it was acceptable to play in. Something to always look out for if you're on a stage that's raised, I might add. I had no wardrobe malfunctions, so I'd say it was a swell choice.
Before the show, I ate at the HOB restaurant with my mom and brother. They actually drove three hours to see us play, which is quite a feat (since we didn't go on until 11). Among the other hopefuls and do-gooders who came out post-Emily-invite were: Dan, Kellen & K.D. (of Fick), Michelle & Jerry Jones, as well as Paul Cuevas (of Violectric), Alex Palmer & family, Joey LaCorte & his buddy (ladies, FYI- Joey is single and incredi-amazing), David Medairos (of Traverser), and some of the hardcore Minks Crew. It was a good feeling knowing I had support from a lot of people. It was a pretty big day for me musically, after all. Did I mention that yet?
We had an hour set, which was ample and much appreciated (with all of the bot-laden acts, we needed some time in between). There was a full house, though the balcony was closed off from the general public. (Kelly and I went out there with drinks before our set however, and talked about band life as female members.) The audience seemed very energetic and were revving to go. At the start of "Thoughtsalot", confetti explosions pretty much made everyone want to puke stars, it was so overwhelmingly joyous. And don't get me started on all the balloons.
It was surreal being on such a vast stage. The sound was ultra-clear, though there were occasional guitar issues. Andy's cut out at one point and Rog's kept feeding back. All things to take into account next time... we play there?! Though that was my first time playing a huge hometown venue, I hope it won't be my last. I just gotta keep climbing.
Until then, chickadees (yes, that includes all the buff young men reading this).
Fine Young Poet : Em
an artist who chooses to starve