“Mom, it’s not heavy metal. It’s acoustic Christian Rock
Shortly after concert number 1, Wild Child started bragging to all his friends that he went to his first concert….and it was HIS MOTHER who took him. All the kids were amazed and stunned, and positive that I must be the stupidest mother on earth to take him to hear what their mothers call “that music.” They were all thinking I must not really know the lyrics, and the Wild Child had really pulled off the biggest prank of the year. His stock went up immensely in their eyes. His chest swelled with each retelling of the hot June concert. What was a 4-hour concert, became 7 hours just last night. It will soon become a weekend event in the 25th retelling.
While I really appreciated the artistry of bands throwing their heads down and slamming them back up while flipping their hair and the jumping up and down so sweat pours out streaming like a fire hydrant, I wasn’t really keen on reliving the experience. I told WC another Mom could drive next time. We could schedule someone else for the part-time gig. Wild Child immediately burned a new CD of a “Scary Kids Scaring Kids” (SKSK) and started the music appreciation lessons during the car rides again. Fun, Wow!
WC smiled while he said his friend Soccer Boy (SB) and Hot Soccer Coach Mom (HSCM)would be taking them this time and circled the date, August 24 on the calendar. Excellent, off the hook! As the date pulled closer, I started to hear a scary phrase from SB's mouth, “My Mom wants you to go, she’s afraid to go by herself.” Oh man, here we go again. Fine, I’ll go, it’s good to break in another virgin Mom on the skills necessary to live thru the experience. Fortunately, the band was playing at the Ikon, a cool little nightclub in Buffalo….that has a bar. Great, we had all we needed. I thought, Hot Soccer Coach Mom can drive and I can drink. My Godson decided he wanted to tag along on the concert, so 3 days before the gig, I am informed he will becoming over for HIS first concert and staying….maybe a few days. Fine. The more the merrier. Wild Child usually refers to Godson as his cousin, since he calls Godson’s father “Uncle” but now WC makes up the term “GodBro.” It’s amazing how rapidly the language flows. I get a little excited, since now we have me, Wild Child, Godson, Soccer Boy and Virgin Hot Soccer Coach Mom driving. I thought I might actually enjoy getting to this gig.
WRONG.WRONG WRONG. HSCM did not want to drive down there. Cops kinda get called outside of this place on a regular basis. Fine. I pick everyone up in the Crown Vic (“Vicky”), large enough to seat 6 screaming teens as necessary. We get lost a little turning for the road, but manage to find the place next to the burned out building and behind the really large black bus. (Hint: probably the bands bus). I have no idea where to park, but just go down the street and park there. Soccer Boy's Mom informs me that no one will steal “The Cop Car.” Great, my little Vicky has a new name.
In we go, getting our little wrist bands, escorting the 3 hormone banks with stomachs. We scope out the place, trying to see where to stand. No speaker banks for me this time. I would like to lean to the side on the main area so I can see at all times. HSCM instead heads to the bar and decides to lean there. It’s 88 degrees and the sweat is already flowing. I get a beer and she gets a double Jack with diet Pepsi. I sense I might be in for trouble. It’s 6:30 and already about 50 people are in the nightclub.
The first band up, “Piercing the Vail” has a nice lyrical style that I sense may turn into something greater as they get more experience. I like the artwork on their CD’s with a crumpled wedding dress and bloody wedding rings….I sense some anger and someone feeling the rage of divorce. We order up another drink each, since we have a good 3.5 hours to go with this. The Second band, “Dear Hunter” has a lot the running around and slamming of the head. The acoustics aren’t working too well from my point of view, and the crowd wasn’t moving very much.
Now it gets interesting because a Dad comes over and starts talking to us. Dad #1 is very nice and funny. We are all talking about our kids and how we ended up there, It’s his son’s birthday and they came in from Rochester to see the band. Dad starts talking soccer with Hot Soccer Coach Mom, so I start watching the bands again. The walking hormones come over to get vitamin water and tell us about the band. They thought the band was long winded and wouldn’t leave the stage. As they drink, they notice the Dad. “What’s up with that?” Well, "She's hot" I tell them, so guys like to talk to her. They laugh—a MOM IS HOT. They can’t even picture the word associated with a Mom. As they go back to the main stage, Dad #2 comes over on my side. We all meet and talk about the kids. I really can’t hear to keep on talking during the music, so he drifts away.
Band #3, Boys Night Out, goes on stage. Dad#2’s son wanted to see that group, so he goes to find him in the crowd. Dad#2 is a veteran Dad, having taking his 15 year-old to 2 other concerts. “My wife would never come to this.” I know, it’s a weird bonding thing, and I talk about working on keeping the connection open. His son loves music and does a lot with it, so he takes him to feed the knowledge. “We’re going to see ZZ Top at Casino, so he can see some of MY Music. “ Hmmm, do I think Wild Child would go to Billy Joel or James Taylor with me?”
Finally, the main act, “Scary Kids, Scaring Kids” arrives. I laugh, since I have been telling everyone at work the band is “Scary Children Scaring Children.” They had a lot of energy and the crowd really went wild. The keyboard guy was topless and dancing with the keyboard as he played. The Moshe pit got going. Wild Child body surfed and was dropped. A hot babe was trying pick up Soccer Boy. Godson ran across the stage—clothes on, no streaking—and has the biggest grin on his face. He tried to get a babe to make out with him, but no dice. The hormones had no luck with the babes, but the Hot Mom’s—we each got a business card and email address. Chock one up for the Heavy Metal—no, scratch that---Techno Screamo Moms.
I got the lead singer to sign a card for my cubby—“To the Best Mom Ever” for bringing 3 young fans. And I bought a tee shirt so I can be the appropriate techno screamo Mom next time. NEXT TIME?????