Music is so deeply personal and I think that’s why I’ve barely written about it on this blog. I have had many moments in my life where my musical tastes have been criticized. We all do it. Someone tells us they’re a fan of a certain genre, band, song… we cringe and make a judgement call. It’s a shame that we can’t accept that different things stir emotions in different people, and those triggers change over time as well.
In 2005, I was driving to a class and decided to turn on the radio, which I hadn’t done in months. I made a bet with myself that whatever was playing would be the same tired “alternative” rock that this particular station had been playing for the past year. Well, I was wrong. I was immediately in love with this new music. So, I made another bet that they wouldn’t say what the song was at the end. They did! As soon as I got home, I checked tour dates online. They were playing a club almost 2 hours away in a couple days! Something magical was happening and I could feel it in ever fiber of my being! I ordered my ticket, ran to the record store, bought their CD and memorized every song until I showed up at The Norva in Norfolk, VA. Ever since then, I have had a deep love affair with Underoath.
At this point in my life, I was totally obsessed with gentle but epic “post-rock instrumental” music. 10 minute long wordless songs that evoked deep feelings of longing and sadness. This new ”screamo” was unlike anything I had heard. I was already past my “emo” phase but still enjoyed the old classics like Sense Field, Sunny Day Real Estate and Jawbreaker. I appreciated their meaningful lyrics and tough melodies. I had heard these types of vocals before, of course. I grew up with huge death metal fans and I had my own affinity for Dystopia and Buzzov-en but the lyrics were so gruesome and sad for the most part. Underoath gave me intelligent mathematical melodies and switch-ups with smooth positive vocals from the founder and drummer and then the screaming vocals from their lead singer which I have become obsessed with.
This past October 19th, I got to see them for the 4th time. I’ve gone by myself every show. It’s almost like a spiritual pilgrimage I do for myself. Well, this time I was seeing someone when I ordered the tickets and things didn’t work out with him so, I had this extra ticket floating around, driving me crazy. Going to see your favorite band with someone else is a tricky situation. What if they don’t like them? What if they don’t like the opening bands? What if they’re just in a bad mood that night? What if they don’t know how to handle a large crowd or mosh pits or want to get wasted and you have to babysit them? You always feel responsible for someone else’s good time when you invite them into your world and they are more than capable of ruining yours.
The funny thing about my love for Underoath is the sheer lack of love my friends have for them. They have a huge following – of teenagers. (For this, I have no shame.) The list of people I could’ve even considered to go with me was incredibly short. Two of my fellow fans were going to be out of town and the third fan and I have seemed to rub one another the wrong way for a long time. I went ahead and told the disagreeable one that he could have the ticket anyway.
I had my evening planned. MY evening seeing MY favorite band of all time. I wanted to miss the first opening band, go get dinner at a decent bar 4 blocks away (making for easy parking and walking) and then beat the crowd. This plan seemed fine with my guest and then he decided to change MY plans at the last minute. Whatever. I decided to revoke the invitation and went alone, as I always have, and it was wonderful. I sold my extra ticket to a desperate kid in line making his day, and averted the 3-block long line with the help of an old friend I didn’t even know worked at the club.
I managed to squeeze into the very front, squealed with teenage girls, joked with the bartender about there being no wait, screamed along with 1800 kids who love this band as much as I do, pumped my fist in the air, took a spin in the mosh pit for old time’s sake, lost my hoodie, bought my new favorite hoodie, walked 4 blocks in the cold, high on life and grinning from ear to ear, listening to a kid behind me talk about how he wished he had asked a girl on a date. It was a glorious night.
PS - They’re Christian. I’m not. It doesn’t matter.
PPS – Sometimes, I find myself enjoying their earlier stuff better, with their old singer Dallas. It’s effin brutal. Oh my god that kills me!
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