Concert Diaries Chapter Nine ~ Oh Hell No ...

Am I tired of this setlist yet?

Oh hell no!

Am I tired of any of the setlists for this tour?

Oh hell no!

Okay, well maybe a little Script goes a long way for me ... I definitely would have preferred seeing Michael Franti at every performance rather than The Script.

If it's Saturday, it must be Boston, or what Ticketmaster calls Boston in order to make people believe they're going to a concert in Boston.  I fell for it.  But no, (oh hell no?), make that over an hour south of Boston in the woods of Mansfield. The Comcast Center.  Loud Chick had issues with getting us out of the city so we had a scenic tour of Roxbury and definitely a most circuitous route to spice up our ride.

My daughter lives just outside of Boston and I'm on vacation this week to visit her.  We're off to the Mermaids of Alcatraz tour tonight because as her mother, I feel duty-bound to expose her to my impeccable taste in music.  I meant that as a joke but as I think about it, it's pretty true.  She's seen a lot of Broadway, had piano and flute lessons, sang for years with the Girls' Choir at St. Peter's and had some fantastic performance and touring opportunities with that group.  She marched in her high school marching band and played concert band as well so she's been exposed to a wide range music from Bach to Bruce, from Gilbert and Sullivan to Aida performed live amongst ruins in Rome and to her favorite classic rock bands like Pink Floyd and my favorite whom we will see tonight (my twelfth time, her second).  It's Gavin DeGraw time, once again.

We're pretty far back but this venue has a very nice incline to it so the sight lines are okay.  They're okay for someone who can see.  My eyesight is in the middle-aged not-so-great stage.  But that's okay, somehow I'm able to focus just fine when those first chords strike and the guys in the band (I can't call them boys like he does--they're all grown men and one is older than him) take the stage.  Gavin had posted earlier in tweets and vines that he was on vocal rest for a horribly sore throat.  I wondered earlier if he would have to cancel his scheduled meet and greets in order to stay rested.  Like the true professional he is, however, he made those fans happy by keeping the appointments, although, according to one friend's tweet, he whispered his way through them. 

You would not have known he was under the weather from the performance he gave last night.  Yes, the same set list as I'd heard twice this summer already but I cannot grow tired of it.  Oh hell no.  It is a joy to watch him perform in person, moving easily through the crowd and gaining many fans, I'm sure, with every song he sings.  The people around us are fans too so there are no issues this time with standing and singing.  Thank goodness--it was a beautiful night and I needed to be on my feet.  The couple in front of us were on their feet too--but they were not too steady.  I'm not sure what it is but both Boston-area concerts we've been to, we've had to deal with drunken people in front of us.  Both of us found this person rather amusing but her loud screams were pretty wearing on the nerves after a while.

Since I'd missed the first few songs from The Script on Tuesday night, I made sure I was in my seat for the start of their set.  It started with an animated opening projected on screens much like the opening of Train's set on opening night.  It was hard to hear but I imagine if you were a Script fan and knew their music, it made sense.  To me it looked like an eye test but I'm sure it had something to do with the album title, Science and Faith.  They are a band with a lot of energy and there are a couple of songs that I do truly enjoy.  I find though, that their songs all sound somewhat alike and one song in particular, which is apparently a huge hit judging from the crowd reaction, really grates on my nerves.  They also chugged beer on stage and used a fair amount of the "f" word.  Since this tour has attracted so many families (lots of families enjoy Train together), I thought that they should have been more cognizant of who was in the audience.  There were a fair number of children and they had to have known that.  Language doesn't bother me at all; I'm just saying I think a band that is so revered by teens and preteens ought not to be glorifying drinking to excess with cursing.  "If you're not fucking drunk, you're not fucking drinking enough," was the line that really bothered me.  This is not to say I didn't enjoy them; they were okay.

The set change for Train took a while as I knew it would.  The couple in front of us were enjoying themselves enormously even screaming for the recorded music that plays between sets.  We could tell that some of the people around us were getting more than a little annoyed. 


Finally, the San Francisco fog began to blow across the stage, the whistle bellowed and Train began their show.  I have to admit having now seen them three times this summer:  they've got me.  I'm a fan.  The music is easy to understand even with all the complicated words in some of the lyrics.  You can't help but get involved.  Pat Monahan is a generous performer taking photos of himself with the cameras of fans while singing, pitching t-shirts into the audience and walking out into the crowd to sing "Marry Me."  Marry Me makes me sad every time I hear it.  Every couple in the crowd becomes obviously "coupled" and it has the effect of making a single person feel quite alone--at least this single person.  Tonight, a couple in the front row became engaged while Pat was singing "Mary Me." 


I want to tweet to Pat Monahan.  When you go to the same concert a few times you hear the same "banter" over and over.  Out on Long Island on Tuesday he told the New York crowd that he expected big participation on the song, Save Me San Francisco, because New York invented the term "Oh hell no," which is part of the lyric.  At the time I thought that was kind of neat, recognizing the tough New Yorker crowd.  Except that Saturday night he's said the same thing to the Boston folks.  I expect if I'd made it to the Sunday show in New Jersey, I'd have heard that New Jersey invented "oh hell no."  So who came up with that phrase?  Don't ask Pat ... he's not sure ...

At some point someone must have complained about the loud gyrating woman and her husband because some venue security came and escorted them away. We felt kind of bad for them--they weren't as bad as the guy in front of us last year--but after they left I had a really clear shot of the stage so I was able to take a lot of pictures.

Pat came out for the encore performances with a Boston t-shirt on.  It's clear that people are still very much tuned in to the Marathon tragedy which is completely understandable.  An event of that magnitude will hover just below the surface of the consciousness of a community for a long time--maybe forever.  I can't see the New York skyline without thinking of September 11--every single time.  The crowd appreciated Pat's gesture.  After singing Drops of Jupiter, the song he wrote following his mom's death, he asks Ashley Monroe, Gavin and Danny to join him for The Weight again.  Gavin was wearing a grey sweater over a yellow shirt.  At first I thought the sweater was due to his not feeling well but he unzipped it to reveal a Boston Strong t-shirt with the now familiar blue and yellow logo.  There was a huge roar of appreciation for him.

I wish I could tell if my daughter really enjoys these forays into my music world or if she's just indulging her mom.  We bought Gavin and Train shirts tonight (for both of us).  I think that's a good sign.  She wouldn't wear a shirt she didn't like.  We've seen Bruce together--it was easy to tell she was excited to be there.  (Although, I fail to see how anyone could not be excited at a Springsteen show.  It's an event unto itself.)  I can't expect everyone I love to be the die-hard Gavin DeGraw fan that I've become.  Can I?  Oh hell no.  Except that I do...

~

Post script ... Sunday night found me hanging with family instead of at the concert in Holmdel.  Some things take precedence.