Concert Dreams

When I go to sleep at night, a common dream I have is going to a concert of some sort. The people at the concert vary from large crowds to one or two people. The bands also vary wildly. One dream, I saw a concert headlined by Korn, Skillet, and Immortal Technique. Can you imagine those three in one show? A libertarian nu metal band, a Christian conservative rock band, and an atheist liberal rapper all under one roof. If Seattle didn’t have riot problems before, they’ve got them once again. You think that’s crazy? How about going to a Three Days Grace concert in a college lecture hall where the opening act is a black and white movie about old ladies. Or perhaps you’d rather see Anthony Jeselnik do standup comedy in a college lecture hall while playing a really old Final Fantasy game. Or maybe you’d rather watch a Pink Floyd show where they flaunt faceless masks like muscles at the beach. Either way, you’re in for a show if you’re living in my subconscious. These dreams are obviously telling me to go to a rock concert. It has to be more of a deep message than that. Maybe the diversity in political and religious views in each band is an archetype telling me to embrace differences. Maybe the concert I go to where nobody’s there indicates that I have nobody to talk to when I go to a real concert. There certainly is no shortage of beautiful ladies in black skirts or jean shorts, but they’re far out of reach for someone of my means. I do plan on going to a concert again someday. Hell, I already missed three chances at cool concerts in the past year and a half. In 2012, I could have seen Nightwish at the Showbox SoDo, but instead I went on vacation with my family to New Mexico to ride horses and get yelled at by my mom for screaming in pain. Skillet was playing at the Tacoma Dome not too long ago. How they stayed out of my radar, I’ll never know. Soulfly was playing in Seattle to promote their Savages album, but that one fell out of my radar as well. I wish ignorance was the only reason I missed the Soulfly concert. Truth is, I don’t want to go back to Seattle for anything. The last time I was there was to see Papa Roach at the Showbox Market. The concert got out at midnight and it was time to call my mom for a ride. My calls kept going to her voicemail. I stood out in the streets of Seattle for one full hour without transportation. During that hour, I was cold, I had to listen to drunken metal heads scream their asses off, and a punk teenager threatened to shoot me. I was mad about the latter of those for three months before I got over it. Concert offers are enticing, especially when they come from within. They’re fun. They’re energetic. They’re experiences that will last a lifetime. But you know what? It’s going to take a lot for me to return to Seattle. Maybe if the Showbox was featuring lesbian sex between Jeanne Sagan from All That Remains and Floor Jansen from Nightwish, just maybe I could be talked into going. But the last time I checked, Jeanne Sagan and Floor Jansen were not sexual objects. They’re musicians. Musicians play music. There better be some damn good music playing in Seattle or Tacoma. Otherwise, my subconscious will be my new favorite venue.

　

***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“This is our tribe, not your tribe, motherfucker!”

-Max Cavalera from Soulfly-