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I arrived sometime in the late afternoon, around five I suppose, and parked at the end of the long brick wall that encloses
the venue. It wasn't cold outside yet, but the air was cool, and everything stood back in the long rays of the sun the earth
now tilted away from. It was that mild with or without temperature where it doesn't matter if you put on a jacket or not,
but I pulled on a red hoodie for good measure and packed the pouch before getting out of my car. A small line had begun to
form, nothing like the one that had assembled by this time when Three Days Grace played the previous weekend, but inside shows
generally don't see a large number of people milling about for gates. It's like no one expects to get a good spot anyway.
I'd heard on the radio on the way over that the show had been moved indoors and wasn't exactly surprised: that's what happens
in West Texas when the temperature gets below 75 degrees and the characteristic wind blows (mild exaggeration.)
Coming in through the green room, I found who I was looking for immediately and introduced myself. Having worked innumerable
shows with varying positions at the venue over the past year, I was well versed with the layout and the locale in which to
find who it was I was looking for. Dos Amigos for West Texans is like the "home venue," and that dictum extends
deeply to those who grew up in the area and worked stage production. It's like building a show in your backyard. Waving hello
to all the familiar faces, I crossed the dead and unleveled grass to one of the many side doors that led inside the venue.
I don't know if you've ever been to Dos Amigos, but while outdoors you can fit a couple thousand easy, the indoors resemble
something of a size ten shoe box. It really isn't that large....at all. I've seen tons of bands rock this stage, but it's
never met with much enthusiasm. It's so small and hot in there....I take it back, it's not like a size ten shoebox, it's like
a size ten shoebox on fire. I'd come to see the production equipment and the stage set up. Remembering the times last winter
when I myself had to pull the show into the garage, I admired the lighting and audio equipment crammed into the small space
like the lamp in Mary Poppin's bag. It always amuses me at how little people know of what really goes into a concert. Later
on I'd hear cries of "move it outside," and "it's hot in here," and laugh at how un-feasible that was.
If they only knew how many hours went in to making the stage just so.
Anyway, there is an energy that builds in the venue the day of the concert unlike any you've ever felt before. It's an
energy that makes the fans feel at home albeit on a different level and when these two forces combine, you get one stellar
show. The energy increases as the stacks go up and the lighting is flown, it builds with every XLR run and every channel on
the console as engineers systematically go through sound check. It grows and grows with each stage of completion as the road
crews, light and sound techs and stage hands work together to build the show, and around five 'ish there's usually a pretty
good buzz about the venue. Bartenders, shot girls and barbacks arrive as well as ticket-takers and security-people. Merch
tables light up and the green room gets stocked and the guy from the radio station walks up with a drink in his hand. He's
the funny one; the one who has only to walk on the stage and he and the crowd both erupt into laughter like they all share
some inside joke, but more about him later. People linger, walk back and forth between front of house the green room and
the stage, and the dingy faded black T-shirts of the day are traded for clean, dark, tight-fitting ones. Everyone's ready
and that is when the energy is at its highest, then the gates open and the hymen is broken and the crowd descends upon our
lady in a several hundred person gang-bang.
It was this energy I had come to feel out. This ethereal and contrived elegance that is the stage before a show, this anticipatory
excitement and accomplishment of those who have labored all day. I didn't just want the crowd perspective; I wanted to feel
it from both sides of the fence.
Later, returning from a beer-drinking hiatus, I cut in line to get my photo pass and marveled at how packed the house
was. It had been a while since I had been to a big indoor rock show and the place once cold and empty now resembled a boiling
sardine can (smelled like one too, once you crunched in front with all the sweaty, shirtless moshers.) Hurt was to take the
stage first and I worked my way through the serpentine line of people around the bicycle rack barricade that separated the
"back stage" area from a grassy spectator point. I'd not heard them before save for a few songs on the radio that
afternoon and needless to say, I was immediately impressed.
Taking the stage, the band exuded a presence that wove a spell about the enthralled audience. I suspect that a lot of
them, like me, were not quite familiar with the band prior to the show as I watched their reactions, the intensity increasing
with every song. There are a lot of bands that sound really good on an album and either sound like hell live or detract from
their sound with a shoddy performance, but not tonight, not Hurt. Their set flowed with an intentional rhythm that built like
an opening act should, but it could have been the lineup of a headliner. The transitions between songs and intermittent vocal
interaction seemed very natural; the pauses and breaks served to hold the crowd in the state they were in while at the same
time making them scream for more. After the first three songs were over, I ventured into the crowd and squeezed my way up
front. By now, the audience had become engaged; they pushed and swayed in crashing waves that kept time with the music, they
rocked their little hearts out.
And the band rocked with them, for them; they weren't the type to stand there with the guitars and just nod their heads
like "we know we're the shit." They performed for the crowd while they played and the energy radiating from the
stage was invoked by the crowd then regurgitated and reused like relationship between oxygen, carbon monoxide and the photosynthesis
cycle.
The set culminated in the performance of a song that captured the aura of the venue itself. As has been said, Dos Amigos
is something of the rock oasis in West Texas, and for many, these indoor shows have a feeling of hanging in your friends garage.
It's homey, it's comfortable, and everybody knows your name. The season lent a bit to this familial presence, and as the song
played front man J. Loren picked up an electric fiddle that rocked and shocked the audience into screams and cheers. It sounded
a bit like the Riverdance at first and then I was reminded of that Metallica song 'No Leaf Clover' that came out several years
ago around Christmastime. Overall, the effect perfectly encapsulated the ideal in my head of the feeling attached to the
show. It was a week before the gift-giving holiday, it was cold outside, and the warm lighting and crammed-in crowd fit perfectly
with the night. Hurt played a few more songs before saying good night and without missing a beat, the sound company played
Christmas songs that the crowd sang along to.
Red was slated to play next, and they rocked it like they usually do. The crowd took off from the platform Hurt supplied
them, but I felt myself holding on to the previous set. I'd seen Red play many times before and the show was always stellar,
but Hurt left you wanting more. I guess you could say it Hurt so good. While the music alone could hold its own against rock
giants of the year Three Days Grace, Chevelle, and Breaking Benjamin....the vocals deviated from the norm in a way that really
set the band apart. They sounded like the rock and roll of 2007 with the vocal style of years past. Loren's voice was more
raw and less pretty than most performers topping the charts and with the inclusion of multi-dimensional musical elements like
the electric fiddle, the band had made their mark like a fresh tattoo. It would be hard to top, even for the headliners.
Seether took the stage soon after Red finished and the crowd went wild. Standing outside marveling at a glass window with
arms asses and faces smashed up against it, me and a couple of friends discussed how funny it would be to see the glass break
and 15-20 people come flowing out like water from the mouth of a pitcher. It didn't happen that night, but it likely will
someday and it was worth a good laugh.
Assuming my position on top of the front fills, I laid back and waited for the band to come on. It didn't take long before
the rockers appeared and I went into photo mode, snapping away. Again, after my three songs, I went to find a friend of mine
who happened to be waiting in the never-ending beer line. We heard at least two or three more songs before the set interrupted
and stalled. The music had been down for about thirty minutes and people had become restless. Wondering what was going on
behind the scenes (and hopeful of pawning my hoodie off on one of my security-guard buddies), I walked back around outside
where I learned that a house amp rack had been blown. It had, in fact, caught on fire (and this is where I was going to dump
my hoodie) and the tops had all been blown.
Moving aside to let the techs and hands remedy the situation, I turned and worked my way back into the crowd on the other
side of the wall. The silence remained for another ten minutes or so and after they switched the tops with monitors, the band
reappeared with acoustic guitars in hand.
The set was amazing. I've been to close to a hundred shows over the past year, seen everyone touring in my area that I wanted
to see, and the Seether show was just sort of an added bonus. The fact that it was an acoustic set was a bonus on the bonus,
like a porno with a photo gallery. They began with part of 'The End' from the Doors and quickly went into all of their hit
songs, including some older ones I didn't even know they sung. Out of all the shows I'd seen that year, this one stood out
because of its being unplugged.
The show was very intimate. I, like any other rock and roll devotee love my screaming guitar and hard-hitting drum rolls,
but seeing this completely unplanned acoustic performance was like a nightcap on a great year. There were those who didn't
quite share my enthusiasm, a guy at my right commented on how it was the worst rock show he'd ever been to because he couldn't
mosh, but we'll chalk that up to ignorance. A group of (assumed) seventh-graders started up an acoustic mosh pit, which was
hilarious in its ridiculousness and others swayed and sang along.
I don't think the show would have been nearly as remarkable had it gone down as planned. With their mic stands drenched
in Christmas lights, and red and green gels illuminating the drum kit, an acoustic set just seemed to fit well with the season.
Had it happened outside in the middle of July it might not have been as successful, but sheltered from the cold in this tiny
little room, the unplugged set brought the band and the crowd a little closer, like they shared something special.
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