Heavy Metal Momma the Sequel

Life Balance: When your life exists in such perfect harmony that the energy force within you is in sync with the heartbeat inside. A feeling of overwhelming strength, joy, laughter, love and intelligence that is older then time itself. The sense within you, that your very soul and spirit and divine wisdom are acting as one.


“Mom, it’s not heavy metal. It’s acoustic Christian Rock , I mean its techno screamo.”—Heavy Metal Momma on the way to concert NO. 2.


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?????

Heavy Metal Momma

Life Balance: When your life exists in such perfect harmony that the energy force within you is in sync with the heartbeat inside. A feeling of overwhelming strength, joy, laughter, love and intelligence that is older then time itself. The sense within you, that your very soul and spirit and divine wisdom are acting as one.

“I took my 13-year old to a heavy metal concert…and lived to tell about it”—Lunatic Mom on the Edge

21st century Moms often try to relax the tight standards they grew up under, in an effort to “bond’ with their children. I believe I crossed the line with this, when I agreed to accompany my son and his friend to a Rise Against Concert.

It all started innocently. After a stringent 2 months grounding and probation period for video taping kids on the bus, my son was desperately trying to suck up and get his life back. He was setting the table without being asked. He vacuumed and picked up the living room. He handed in his homework and didn’t get detention for 3 whole weeks. And then he said “I love you” to me on the phone. We seriously checked him for signs of drug use when he got home that night. We were worried he had crossed the line and we didn’t know how to get him back. He was acting normal. We couldn’t understand the change after the sullen, defiant, lazy child we had lived with for 3 years. We were investigating boot camps to pull him in line. I was calling places on my lunch hour to see who was open for the summer.

Then all this nice behavior didn’t make sense….until he slipped in a CD he burned into the radio when I was driving him to a friends house. Serious bouts of screaming they call music. “Turn it off, “I screamed. “No, Mom, give it a chance. Please. These are the groups I want to go hear in a few months.” What? Go to a concert? “Yes, they are playing close by. On a Friday night. And it’s only $20.” Please? If I pass all my courses, then can we go?”

I remember vaguely nodding yes. It was 2 whole months before the end of the year. This kid was not motivated by anything other then loss of computer IM time. It would never happen….but it did.

I waited until the last minute to buy tickets, hoping the concert would sell out. It didn’t of course. The day came. I was forced to go. It was 95 degrees out. I prayed for air conditioning. The Gods would not listen. It was a cheap remodeled retail store pretending to be a nightclub. I waited in line, listening to the PETA people sign up everyone. Now, I believe in causes….as long as they don’t inconvenience me. They were signing up people for chicken rights. Chicken. As if my $1000 per month food bill wasn’t enough. Really, it took lots of restraint in the 95 degree heat not to jump on them. But I remembered my motto, “You will not embarrass you son, behave.”

We move up the line to pick up the tickets, show our reservation and my credit card. The boys get big X’s on their arms showing they can’t drink. “You staying,” As if most Moms’ don’t bother. “Yup” and I got a fancy wrist band to show I was over 21 and free and white. Whoopee. We go inside, and scope out the area. 20 feet beyond the stage is a split rail fence with 2 slats. Behind the fence, on either side, are large cases to hold speakers, except they are empty. Terrific, Mom has found her spot to sit her carcass down for the 4-hour concert. The boys go front of the fence, away from Mom, so they can be “cool.” I have warned them about straying away from my eyesight. They can do it if they want, but there will be no more concerts if they do…and they are only 13.

So the concert proceeds. The first act is okay, but mostly they live to talk crude. Probably still virgins at the ripe old rock age of 40, but they sure can talk about having sex. Fine, nothing new. I just sit on my box and keep an eye on the Moshe pit. It’s moving around good, but the boys are staying clear. Good. People come and go on the fence or next to me on the speakers. I would love a beer, but don’t dare give up my spot. Next group, more of the same, slightly trashier, even older. Fine, nothing new here. I am drenched in sweat by now. The boys are just jumping up and down and yelling, drenched in the vigor of youth. They are having fun. I just smile and strain to watch them.

People surround me in tattoos, body piercing, leather and tight clothes. I didn’t even know you could pierce the back of your neck or get so many different tats above your derriere. Everyone is sweating, the Moshe Pit is going wild and water is flying. I am in my own little cocoon. Two older guys, with wrist bands, probably about 22, have taken up residence on the fence in front of me, I am thinking for good. One sits to the left of me on the fence, the other leaves a space for me to see the band, and then stands. They are a nice block for the Moshe pit, so I am glad. They have fun pushing obviously wasted kids that fall on them, back into the pit. It makes them laugh. A girl runs around taking pictures. She puts her camera in her back pocket. Next song, it’s of course on the floor. She moves on and doesn’t pick it up. The guy sitting on the fence hops off, and picks up the camera. Before I know what he is up to, he drops his pants and takes 3 pictures of his butt.

It’s been decades since I saw a prime 21 plus butt….Very nice. He does the front also, but alas, I miss out. Mom’s never get a break.

The main group, Rise Against, finally goes on stage. They sound very good, compared to what I have been listening too. I would like to actually enjoy them even though I am now drenched in sweat. The crowd goes wild, and the Moshe pit goes everywhere. It is sucking everyone in. I am grateful for the speaker stand. There is lots of room on the speaker stand, and throughout the night, people, mostly women, come sit next to me. This is fine, I don’t bite.
The Moshe pit is really in a tizzy now and everyone is acting wild. A guy grabs his girlfriend and starts gyrating his hips on her while dancing. Finally, he decides to pull her down on top to him, while lying next to me on the speaker. He is kissing her like wild, and I am sensing immediate danger. I am calculating how quickly I can swing my legs around and push the 2 of them off of me, when the Moshe pit finally pays off, and suck them into the crowd.

This heavy metal Mom was never so grateful for wild and crazy teens. The concert goes on, and finally ends at 11. I am dying, and I can just imagine the boys. It’s the encore, when my son’s friend Marc slowly goes around and grabs my arm. He is soaked. His voice is hoarse and barely audible. “Water, water, we need water. “Okay, let’s go. It’s over anyway.” And then barely crawl to the car. They sleep on the way home. And I laugh, and say “Wow, I lived through it.”