I’m going to a concert. Sure, I’ll tell you who I’m going to see.
No, you won’t know who they are.
They’re name might be Sevendust, Nonpoint, Disturbed, Flaw, Shinedown, or maybe it’s Five Finger Death Punch. Those are some of the recent bands that have entered this conversation.
Oh, you’ve never heard of them?
Told you so.
Twenty odd years ago I went to my first concert with my now husband. Back then I was that country girl that was more into twang than bass. I hated this band. My ears hated this band. Their name is in that list up above. They were loud and it was crowded. And you had to stand. The whole time. But I was starting to like this boy I had known throughout high school, so I made it work.
Over and over again I would attend shows with this boy. Some were unbearably loud and some were slightly more tolerably so. Some were in places you’ve heard of, most of them were not. But he loved them. So I tried to do the same.
Over time the music got into my head and settled in, growing roots that had some staying power. I couldn’t do the screamers but I found that “loud” music was actually pretty good. Ok, excellent in fact.
My pseudo husband is the front runner of one of these bands. This man can sing. His band was on the light end of the gamut of hard metal rock. So I was told. I just knew that I could belt those songs out and loved every second of it. I also knew I could let those notes sail from the speakers at work. Not something I could do with most of what we listened to. Standing through the opening bands (never know when you might find a gem) was worth it to get to hear him sing.
Fast forward through years of standing, rocking out, getting squished, and having a hard time hearing the next day and we end up at a theater (?!) for a show to see my man do his thing.
As we were leaving my husband smartly asked me what I felt before stating his own opinion.
Well. They sounded great but it was kind of boring. And really weird to have seats.