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Nov. 6th, 2006 03:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rusty_haloThere is a small indie movie theater right by my apartment. Friday after work, I saw the hugest line I've ever seen in front of it. When I asked, people explained that they were waiting for "Borat." I was also astounded by its overwhelmingly positive Rotten Tomatoes reviews. 96%? Really? I have to see this movie.
Thursday was my last Alice in Chains show. Front row, right in front of Jerry. (I came this close to getting a guitar pick and a set list, but didn't, and have to keep reminding myself that it was an unbelievable gift that I got to see them at all, and anyway I have a guitar pick from years ago that got sent in the mail through their fan club so really, chill out Laura, you didn't need a setlist).
One of those amazing dreams of my whole life would've been to have seen Alice in Chains Unplugged, so it was awesome to be so up close for their unplugged performance. I could see them smiling and laughing and gesturing at each other. People were crowd surfing during "No Excuses" and "Got Me Wrong," and Jerry congratulated the crowd on being awesome enough to crowd surf during an acoustic set. It was amazing; you'd have to see it to believe it.
Once again I didn't cry, though it was hard not to get teary on the audience part of "Down in a Hole."
It was amazing to be so close to Jerry Cantrell, to see the look on his face and to watch his hands as he makes the most incredible music in the world with his guitar. I have conflicted feelings about Jerry Cantrell; I know people who know him, and have heard enough to know that he is probably an asshole, so I don't really *like* him. But he wrote "Down in a Hole" (and "Don't Follow" and dozens of other heart-breaking songs) so I can't help but love him. Weird, I know. Maybe he reminds me of me--I can be a huge asshole sometimes, but it doesn't mean my feelings don't matter? Or something.
It also occurs to me that perhaps the reason AIC has stayed with me so long, while I've tended to grow out of other bands, is because their lyrical themes are so resonant with the recurring themes of my life. Let's see ... loss of innocence, struggling friendships, dark obsessive love. Yup, that works.
Also weird? Jim Breuer was there, on the balcony, and before the show started the crowd was cheering him on while he gave the devil-horns-hand-sign-thingy.
I got all bruised from being pushed into the barrier, but the bruises have faded now, and I only had to duck two crowd surfers. I also took a bunch of photos on my phone, but that camera sucks, and I don't even know how to get them off it. I'll have to try, though, because Jerry was literally right there directly in front of me. You really should see every (good) concert from the front row; there's nothing else like it.
I forgot to mention that the first night, after they played the Layne Staley tribute and the band came out for the acoustic set, the crowd started a chant of "Layne! Layne! Layne!" They didn't stop even when Jerry started to speak, so he just urged them on and said that he couldn't argue with that. I thought it was so cool that the crowd was chanting for Layne; yes, he's gone, but he's there in spirit, and certainly not forgotten by anyone in the room.
Thursday was my last Alice in Chains show. Front row, right in front of Jerry. (I came this close to getting a guitar pick and a set list, but didn't, and have to keep reminding myself that it was an unbelievable gift that I got to see them at all, and anyway I have a guitar pick from years ago that got sent in the mail through their fan club so really, chill out Laura, you didn't need a setlist).
One of those amazing dreams of my whole life would've been to have seen Alice in Chains Unplugged, so it was awesome to be so up close for their unplugged performance. I could see them smiling and laughing and gesturing at each other. People were crowd surfing during "No Excuses" and "Got Me Wrong," and Jerry congratulated the crowd on being awesome enough to crowd surf during an acoustic set. It was amazing; you'd have to see it to believe it.
Once again I didn't cry, though it was hard not to get teary on the audience part of "Down in a Hole."
It was amazing to be so close to Jerry Cantrell, to see the look on his face and to watch his hands as he makes the most incredible music in the world with his guitar. I have conflicted feelings about Jerry Cantrell; I know people who know him, and have heard enough to know that he is probably an asshole, so I don't really *like* him. But he wrote "Down in a Hole" (and "Don't Follow" and dozens of other heart-breaking songs) so I can't help but love him. Weird, I know. Maybe he reminds me of me--I can be a huge asshole sometimes, but it doesn't mean my feelings don't matter? Or something.
It also occurs to me that perhaps the reason AIC has stayed with me so long, while I've tended to grow out of other bands, is because their lyrical themes are so resonant with the recurring themes of my life. Let's see ... loss of innocence, struggling friendships, dark obsessive love. Yup, that works.
Also weird? Jim Breuer was there, on the balcony, and before the show started the crowd was cheering him on while he gave the devil-horns-hand-sign-thingy.
I got all bruised from being pushed into the barrier, but the bruises have faded now, and I only had to duck two crowd surfers. I also took a bunch of photos on my phone, but that camera sucks, and I don't even know how to get them off it. I'll have to try, though, because Jerry was literally right there directly in front of me. You really should see every (good) concert from the front row; there's nothing else like it.
I forgot to mention that the first night, after they played the Layne Staley tribute and the band came out for the acoustic set, the crowd started a chant of "Layne! Layne! Layne!" They didn't stop even when Jerry started to speak, so he just urged them on and said that he couldn't argue with that. I thought it was so cool that the crowd was chanting for Layne; yes, he's gone, but he's there in spirit, and certainly not forgotten by anyone in the room.