HANSON W/ HELLOGOODBYE, STEEL TRAIN & SHERWOOD @ THE CLEVELAND HOUSE OF BLUES

I know, it’s been two and a half weeks and I’m just now getting around to posting this. I’ve been working on it and the related pictures steadily since the show, and they’re finally ready to see the light of day. The blog has been ready for quite a while, but I’ve been so busy that I’m just getting around to uploading the pictures.
As some of you know, I went to my (6th? 7th? I can’t remember anymore) Hanson concert on Tuesday, October 6 2009. The understanding I have with my readers is that I will post a concert recap blog. So, here she is!
Jennie and I got to the venue around 2:30 in anticipation of The Walk starting at 3 (that’s 3 o’clock Hanson Time, 3:20ish Standard Time). Jennie was fascinated by Cleveland’s pigeon population. “Those are the fattest birds I’ve ever seen!” she kept saying. “Take a picture! Take a picture!”

So we got in line and there were only a few people in line ahead of us. A guy from the HOB kept reminding us about Pass the Line, insisting that the Pass the Line people would be getting in before the Walk people. I’m not so sure he was correct about that, after my experience last year, and I don’t suppose we will ever really know who went in first. We did lose several people from our line, however, who found the lure of a place closer to the stage too enticing to pass up.
Some odd, smoking hippie chicks who were wearing foundation a full centimeter thick sat behind us and showed us pictures that they’d taken earlier in the day. This confused me, because I had thought that, like every Cleveland show before, The Walk was supposed to start at 3pm at the House of Blues. Evidently, unbeknownst to me, my boys had decided to host this year’s Walk at 1pm the Rock Hall instead. Long story short, we missed The Walk and I was extremely aggravated. Several other people were, too.
And yet we still love our boys.
I know this is a silly thing to say, but I have decided that I REALLY need to stop loving this band so much. I can’t remember the last time I was so exhausted, even after pulling a 13-hour day working horse shows last spring. Jennie and I were on our feet for about 10 hours straight, and my feet, knees and lower back were throwing out some major pain vibes by the time Steel Train took the stage. Also, the time I spent waiting for the real show to start really really really really would have been better served in my dorm room finishing up the midterm project that was due in my Equine Facilities class the next day.
And yet we still love our boys. We are blindly devoted. That’s all there is to it.
As for me, I feel like Jerry Fletcher in Conspiracy Theory. Remember the scene where he’s talking to Alice about Catcher in the Rye? And he says that whenever he walks into a book store he has to buy that book? And if he doesn’t find it he has to look for it so he can buy it? So that he can feel normal? And he doesn’t feel right if he doesn’t do it? That’s largely how I feel about Hanson shows. I can’t not go them. If there is a Hanson show going on in Cleveland and I know about it, I have to go to it or when that evening comes around and I’m not there, I’ll be bouncing off the walls and pacing and wondering and thinking and getting all uppity and it just doesn’t feel RIGHT to not go.
I could have made that sound crazier, but I don’t think I want to.
Anyway…
After Two Smelly Hippie Chicks With Too Much Foundation left, we were standing with a girl that I only know as Purple Hoodie because she didn’t tell us her name and for some reason we felt foolish asking. She was personable, but she was positively obsessed with trying to be as close to the stage as possible, and she left us after a while to try her hand at Pass the Line through the HOB restaurant. Jennie saw her in the crowd later, and evidently she was closer to the stage than we were. Perhaps the HOB guy knew what he was talking about after all.
After Purple Hoodie left, we met Drumstick (the girl who swiped Zac’s drumsticks and waved them dutifully in front of my camera last year) and her friend Mexico (who was crazy and did not wear long sleeves to wait in line outside in Cleveland in October). We talked to them quite a bit. Jennie kept squirming whenever people asked her what her favorite Hanson song, album, band member, etc was. I called her a “fresh convert” to help her out, and that sent the people asking the questions all aflutter with approval.
I felt a hunger headache coming on and was determined not to let it ruin my evening, so I walked a few hundred feet down the sidewalk to a place called Jimmy John’s to see what they had. It was a sub place, and the closest quick restaurant the HOB had to offer. I overpaid for a sub with turkey – that’s it, just turkey, though the menu made it look like it would at least come with cheese, for Chan’s sake! – and a cookie and rejoined Jennie, Drumstick and Mexico.

The doors opened at 6pm. At that time we had already been waiting 2 ½ hours.

We were like, right in the middle of the crowd, more or less centered but slightly Stage Taylor. Kind of where I was expecting to be last year. There was a really tall guy in front of us that every girl around us was complaining about. Naturally, most of the girls around me were my height or shorter. He ended up in front of Jennie. She complained a little, but is far too polite to have said anything to him directly.
So if you’re out there, Tall Guy in the Blue and White Striped Shirt Who Was at the Cleveland Hanson Show With His Wife, on behalf of everyone in the back half of the audience, I would like to say this: we do not like you.
Also, to Guy in the White Baseball Cap That Looked Mostly Unhappy To Be There – Jennie was watching you. You are attractive. Keep your cap on, she says.
I’ll say first that I was ultimately disappointed with HelloGoodbye (sorry sorry sorry!), but that Sherwood and Steel Train were at least good enough that I resolved to YouTube search them very soon. Evidently I had a thing for keyboard players that night, because Sherwood’s keyboard player tickled me (he looked like a young Andy Dick), and Steel Train and HelloGoodbye both had cute keyboardists. Steel Train’s lead singer also reminded me of Derek (a guy that you don’t know who goes to school with me).
Unfortunately for you, and for them, I do not feel like recapping the opening acts very much. I will mention, however, that I sat down (on the floor at the House of Blues) in between them because my back and feet were so sore. ACK!!!
I will say that Steel Train closed their performance with a mostly a capella song. I thought it was cool.

You could see the brothers watching the opening bands from behind the scenes, in a balcony area above the wings of the stage. I tried to get a pic, but was mostly unsuccessful. I did get one of Taylor, but it’s really REALLY bad.
After one of their more rollicking songs, HelloGoodbye professed to having a “Back to the Future moment”, and proceeded to play an erratic guitar lick a la Marty McFly. This tickled me, but the rest of the audience didn’t seem to care for their between-songs banter. This is something that, as a Great Big Sea fan, I see a lot, and tend to enjoy. Of course, there are other people – and here I refer generally to people but also specifically to Loud Rude Heckler Girl Who Was Standing Behind Me – who do not appreciate it. On the plus side, this pop culture moment caused someone in the back to shout a request. The song? “Earth Angel”. This tickled me even more. He attempted the first few chords, but then admitted to not really know the song.
I wanted Hanson to get out on stage and play already, too, but I really REALLY felt that there was no call to be rude to the bands that were opening. As such, Loud Rude Heckler Girl Who Was Standing Behind Me was extremely aggravating.
Later, a guy in the balcony shouted “FREEBIRD!!!” at some point during HelloGoodbye’s set. They told him that if he wanted to get on the stage and play Freebird for the audience, they would stop their set right then and let Hanson play. Needless to say, the audience squealed with delight. Also needless to say, he didn’t do it. He did get right up to the edge of the stage, though, and the stagehands were all waiting, ready to haul him up.
Also, one of their guitarists, who also played the ukulele and the electric mandolin, looked quite preppy in his Abercrombie sweater, compared to the blatant geekiness exuded by his bandmates. Song or two into the set, however, he removed the sweater and I found that he was laden with tattoos. As such, I took pictures of him for Cindy.
I swear Taylor was wearing the same grey pants he wore last year. And they are no more flattering on him now than they were last year.
Isaac’s hair has gotten fluffier. More sophisticated, I guess you could argue. I will get used to it, as I always have. And while we’re discussing hair, Zac has let his grow out a bit. I for one am loving it. Jennie is not. Fie on her, I say.

Set list!...

World’s On Fire (New EP song) (I’m really beginning to love this song. It’s extremely catchy. Also, as I was preparing to come home for Fall Break, I picked up my bodhrán and played along once I realized that the song is a jig. Much fun. I took a video of it.)
Thinking of You (First song off the first album. 12 ½ years ago. Damn.)
Where’s the Love (I think it was during this song that Jennie commented, “OMG The floor is bouncing!” Veteran Hanson fans know that this phenomenon is not uncommon for Hanson shows. Watch “Underneath Acoustic Live” for details.)
Great Divide
Got a Hold on Me
Been There Before
Penny & Me
A Minute Without You (ISAAAAAAAAC!!!!)
Blue Sky
Carry You There (New EP song)
Madeline (This song won the online vote in Cleveland for “song you’d like to hear”. I voted for River, but when I voted on Sunday, “Never Let Go” was in the lead. So this was a surprise to me.)
This Time Around
Use Me Up (New EP song) (Jennie liked this one a lot, but that one really long note in the chorus was just the right pitch to cause my ears to ring.)
These Walls (New EP song)
Can’t Stop
Crazy Beautiful
MMMBop (Jennie took a video of this to show Nikki, but the sound on her camera was really bad and most of what you hear is the crowd.)
Man From Milwaukee (I got a video of the “Mother Bird” part of the song. I will put it on my computer next week, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it on MySpace or YouTube.)
Watch Over Me (They did this song near the end of the show last year, too. They started it with Zac’s drums, and I mistook it for Every Word I Say.)
Lost Without Each Other

When Zac took the piano to sing “Use Me Up” and announced that he would be doing a new song, someone from the rear left of the crowd shouted “GEORGIA!” Zac turned around and said, “But… I don’t sing that song!” I should mention here that several days earlier Zac had posted this plaintive tweet on twitter.com: “Someone help they are trying to make me do a solo. –Z”
Poor little dude (as Mom would say).

For the acoustic set (Carry You There – These Walls), Zac was using one of those boxy drummy things that Ryan Lacey tore up the stage with at the Gaelic Storm concert. Zac, for once, was much more reserved than Ryan.
After the show, Jennie and I made our way to the swag tables (that’s what my uncle Kevin calls them – I have since discovered that that is not a well-known term for them, as everyone that I’ve used that word on has met it with a puzzled expression). Jennie really liked Steel Train, and wanted a t-shirt from their table, but embarrassed herself when she approached the Sherwood table and asked about the yellow shirt from the wrong band. She covered herself by insisting that her friend had her money (which was sort of true – she had given me a 20 to get her a Stand Up Stand Up t-shirt from the Hanson table) and scurried back to me, red-faced. After we finished at the Hanson table, me with the Stand Up Stand Up EP and a zippered hoodie (I FINALLY GOT A HANSON HOODIE YAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!), we slinked back to the Steel Train table. After some painful deliberation, Jennie chose the black galaxy shirt, which you can see here -----> Steel Train t-shirt
I also decided, when asking for the shirt, to let the guy behind the table know that Jennie wanted a picture with him, since she kept pointing out that he was the cutest one in the band. She was slightly embarrassed, but since he agreed, she let me take the picture anyway. I’m just evil like that. We went to The Corner Alley after we left the venue. We reviewed our pictures and videos, discussed the bands and the people we put up with in the audience. The bartender was pretty awesome, and we downed at least 2 glasses of ice water apiece. (As it was after the GBS concert, all I kept thinking was, “WATAH!! I NEED WATAH!!!!”) In case anyone is wondering, the bathrooms at The Corner Alley are in the basement at the back of the establishment. Also, they are dark.

Riverfront Irish Festival (June 13, 2009)

I originally posted this blog on MySpace the week after the festival, but couldn't get it to paste into Blogger on my mom's computer. So now that I have Internet access on my laptop at the college, Internet that doesn't suck, I am finally able to post it here. This makes me very happy. *bouncebouncebounce*

So here it is:

I started this blog yesterday on my laptop, and since the weather is so beautiful (there’s a wonderful thunderstorm outside my window) I thought I’d enjoy the rain and finish writing, since Cindy and Shawna are thirsting for blood and I’ve been feeling outlet-lessly creative lately.
I rearranged my room yesterday, but I don’t feel like talking about that, so I’ll move on to more interesting things.
I barely got sunburned at all at the Riverfront Irish festival, which I attended with Dad last weekend. I think, even without a brief review of my impressions of the day’s entertainment, that bit of achievement makes the day incredibly wonderful. I wore shorts and a tank top-sort of shirt, and remembered early on to put on sunscreen. As a result, I came out of it with only a minimum amount of redness. Yaybeans!!
As for the musicians, which you all know is the major attraction at one such festival, the first band we watched was That Irish Band, one that Dad and I had never seen before. We got there shortly after they started, and were thinking about grabbing a spot in the shade when I heard someone on stage announce that they were going to do a song “from a fantastic band called Great Big Sea”. At this I instinctively whooped, which drew the attention of several people, including some who weren’t standing on the stage. It’s amazing how I can be so horribly self-conscious in your average social gathering, but when I’m at a concert I abandon all thoughts of embarrassment and proudly support my favorite musicians (I also whooped when they mentioned Brigid’s Cross). So we sat and watched them do “Goin’ Up” and a few other songs that I do not wish to cudgel my brain into remembering. My impression was that they were certainly intent on making sure the audience had a good time, but a lot of their jokes felt staged. Also, I was not impressed with their bodhrán player; I firmly believe I could have done better. I was, however, impressed with the faster-than-the-speed-of-sound singing accomplished by… um… the guy on the right side of the stage. I don’t remember his name. I was also excited to hear that the band’s young fiddle player is a pupil of Paul Baker. She obviously recognizes astronomical skill when she sees it, and I wish her success. She can’t possibly avoid it if she’s learning from him.
We also had to watch the New Barleycorn, a very traditional duo that we’ve seen a few times before and that has a relatively dedicated following. They did “Whiskey in the Jar”, “Fields of Athenry”, “Danny Boy”, “Marion Bridge” and other such staples, but not, to my disappointment, “Black Velvet Band”. You would think I would get bored with them, two older gentlemen on stage with guitars, mandolins and banjos, but I find them to be quite entertaining. Onstage banter is important, as I mentioned before, and these guys have it down. Also, I think I like their music because it’s spontaneous yet refined, and their voices are powerful and blatantly Irish.
Another new band we checked out (at the behest of Rathkeltair frontman Neil Anderson), was The Kildares, yet another Irish rock ensemble. Despite their positive response from the crowd, I was mostly unimpressed. There was something very generic about them that put a damper on my enthusiasm – nothing in their performance seemed new and unique. Also, their guitarists and drummer received an unfair share of amplification, rendering the fiddler and the piper more or less impotent in affecting the band’s sound. I’m sure this was one major reason why they sounded so average to me. They didn’t sound bad, mind you, just… you know… whatever.
We finally saw an entire Rathkeltair performance, and I was delighted to find that the sound guys had evidently taken pity on us people with normal human ear canals and dialed down the decibel-age to something enjoyable and not painful. Rathkeltair is a band that Kevin urged us to see last year, and I like them well enough, so I’ll start out with my small bit of negativity, just to get it out of the way. Is it true that any rock band can become an “Irish” rock band just by adding a traditional instrument to their repertoire? Because that’s the message that I’m getting here.
Anyway, on to more positivity. The song I was hoping to hear, one that I heard last year and liked the sound of, was “Pound a Week Rise”, a song written by Ed Pickford in the 1960s expounding the evils of a government that promised Irish miners a raise but (naturally) didn’t come through after the miners gave them two years of hard, honest work. I recall from last year’s show (and the YouTube video that someone, bless his or her heart, uploaded), that Mr. Pickford was arrested for singing this song in public, which may be one reason for its popularity. I got my own video of it, and if I decide to trust Mom’s computer enough, maybe I’ll upload it next week. I am quite proud of it.
Overall, they had several memorable songs and I enjoyed their show, and so did Dad (moreso than I had expected). Quite possibly the highlight of the evening was when Neil and the Kildares' piper Matt Willis appeared onstage together in a double-team of bagpiping mayhem that had everyone riled up. Dad once expressed distaste and the rock sound of Needfire, but his strong fancy for songs that push powerfully driven melodies from traditional instruments and his intense preference for the atmosphere of a live show led him to love this performance, which seemed to last approximately as long as your standard human pregnancy. Neil and Matt must have lungs of steel to be able to play that long without passing out.
Naturally, though, the highlight of the festival for me was Brigid’s Cross, who did two shows on Saturday. Of course we didn’t miss either one. We got to the first one only 15 minutes early, as the New Barleycorn’s show at a different stage ran right up against Brigid’s Cross, and the tent and surrounding areas had already been filled by earlier-than-us-comers. So we stood off to the side Stage Paul and nonetheless enjoyed the show. They didn’t do “Twelve” (this is officially the first performance I’ve been to where they didn’t) but they did do “There Were Roses”, which I got a video of, many show staples, and two songs that I’d never heard. And we heard “Whiskey in the Jar” for the third time that day. Peggy sang “Johnny be Fair” sans “The Turnpike”, the instrumental that always ushers dancing on the part of Richie. Richie declared that he was too winded from his previous dance a few minutes earlier. Which I also got a video of. I love my new 4GB Sony Memory disk.
The second show was at the festival’s main stage, where Dad and I had scouted seats as soon as the previous band had left. It was raining by this time, and I was somewhat shivery from the waist down, still in shorts but with my Great Big Sea hoodie keeping my uppers warm. The weather was still pretty warm, but, you know, wet. The band started early for the sake of their soggy fans, and of course they played “Twelve”, and of course I screamed, and of course Richie said, “There she is”, and of course Paul made a joke. It’s just a thing we do.
The final video I wish to mention is of Richie doing his über-sexy Neil Diamond impression. It’s more than worth the drive to Riverfront to see, even if you don’t like Irish music.

So it's definitely almost the end of the semester (classes are over and I just have two more finals to take), and I'm all a-jumble with mixed emotions. It's not like I'm not looking forward to sharing a room with Kendra next semester. I mean, I'm sure we'll be able to cope with the differences in one another's sleep cycles, and we get along wonderfully (most of the time). But I'll definitely miss having all this space to myself (Mine! Mine!! ALL MINE!!!!) and my room looks so empty since Mom and Sixto came and made off with a bunch of my stuff. I'm excited about being home, but I know I'm going to have to clean my room at home or it'll drive me crazy. Which means doing a lot of hard work and throwing out a lot of stuff that I've kept for sentimental reasons over the years (and probably going head-to-head with more than one eight-legged creepy-crawly). I can't wait to get back to my old bookstore, but I still don't know if I have it in me to ask Claudette for that promotion, and even though it's silly, the idea of doing so fills me with anxiety. I'm looking forward to going to the gym with Mom this summer, and hopefully it'll make a difference for both of us.
Plus I won't get to see Mo all summer, and that seriously sucks.
But enough emotionally ambiguous riffraff. (And no, I don't need Aunt Joanne to tell me I used that word wrong.)
I just thought I'd let everyone out there in InternetLand know about what I did yesterday. First of all, it was without a doubt the nastiest, most disgusting and possibly the most vomit-inducing thing I've ever done. I had to take a thorough shower when I got back from the barn. I even brushed my teeth because my mouth felt gross. I washed my hands about 6 times and considered burning the clothes I was wearing.
Has anyone out there ever cleaned a gelding's sheath before? Put your hand down, Chelsea. I'm not talking about you.
So here's what happens: during the course of normal equine activities, a great deal of dirt and dust and other debris gets kicked up around the horse's belly. A certain percentage of this ish necessarily takes up residence in the horse's sheath-y region, mixing with all the various secretions that you find up there. In order to avoid infection and in some cases a great deal of pain for the horse, this region must be cleaned at least once a year (at the college barn we do it twice annually). Our horses are normally tranquilized for this, but Cami didn't want any of the horses doped up yesterday because we have a show going on this weekend. Tailspin was well-behaved for me regardless, but the one thing that I didn't like about the "No tranquilizer" rule was that... well... he didn't drop his man-parts for me. This meant that I had to go in after them. I will not go into detail because you probably do not want to know, but suffice it to say that this activity is one that makes cleaning a stall seem as pleasant as a Shiatsu massage. Imagine reaching into a part of a male horse that no sane person would willingly reach into and pulling out a greyish substance that feels like sticky Play-Doh and smells like a tire factory that has caught fire next to a road that has been freshly tarred and sprinkled with incredibly randy mildew spores.
If you've never done it before, you can't imagine what it's like. I will never be the same.In happier news, I also had to do my mane-braiding test-out this week, and I was told that I did a phenomenal job (it being my first official mane-braiding and all) and that I should seriously think about keeping practicing. Evidently I could eventually do it professionally. Perhaps I should perfect my hand with a pair of clippers too, and I could offer the whole package. Hey, if I could make some money at it, why not?
So what else has happened recently that's exciting? I posted my first YouTube video last week. That was pretty exciting. Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2n9Uxyq6rU I recommend watching it in High Quality.
I grow weary of typing. That means this blog is finished.

WARNING: This Blog is a Waste of Your Time!!!!!

I have to leave for the barn in a few minutes, but I suddenly felt the urge to post a blog, even though I have nothing to say. I have considered, however, posting the article I wrote for the equine newsletter at my college, just to see what you guys think about it. And also to tranquilize Cindy and Shawna, who want me to post a blog about my trip to Florida. So here it is:

"On the last day of February this year, I and a few of my fellow students from Intro to Equine Activities went on a wonderful adventure. With Chelsea Olsen and Sarah Arpke as our guides and chaperones, we left the dreary, snow-swept runway of the Cleveland airport and took off for 6 days of warmth, sun, beaches, and horses. Whole bunches of horses.
"I had never been on a plane before, so that was a novel experience for me. But you are not reading this article to hear about the plane trip, so I will sidestep that portion of the trip and get on to the horse parts.
"On Tuesday we had arrangements to meet Betsy Steiner at her barn for some Equilates. For those of you who are not yet familiar with it, Equilates is a Pilates-like workout that emphasizes positions that the average horseback rider would find useful. It promotes both strength and flexibility and is reputed to strengthen that “core” part of one’s body that Professor Olsen is always talking about. The “posting trot” exercise was an especially wonderful one that left us grateful that none of us had to ride the next day. We completed the session with only a minimum amount of groaning.
"We spent some time at the Palm Beach International Equestrian Center, which is this HUGE (like, so big that it has its very own road) facility in Palm Beach that dwarfs anything we have in Ohio and features numerous rings, arenas, warm-ups, vendors of all sorts and at least one really nice bathroom. We happened to be there during the FTI Winter Equestrian Festival (January 7 - March 29, 2009), so we were in the midst of an absolute flurry of movement. I had never in my life seen so many horses in one place before. Now, being a strictly Western rider (indeed, I knew less than nothing about any English discipline before coming to Lake Erie), I unfortunately cannot satisfactorily explain what was going on around me at the equestrian center. I can say that we watched jumpers in a massive outdoor arena with gorgeous jumps that we definitely need to think about designing for our own shows.
"Friday saw us at the International Polo Club of Palm Beach, setting the dressage and practice arenas for Saturday’s show and meeting up with Mary Ross, the founder and chairman of the Challenge of the Americas. The Challenge is an annual show, 8 years running, that benefits the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.
"The Challenge itself was a surprisingly brief show. Exhibition rider Susan Jacoma started the evening off with a patriotic routine and was followed by Oded Shimoni and John Ingram’s “Dressage v. Reining” face-off. I really wish I’d been able to see more of that, but our first duty was as volunteers at the event, not spectators. Teams USA and International, at 6 members apiece, competed in a sort of equestrian dance-off to a medley of songs. It was difficult to see over the crowds of slightly inebriated socialites, but from the oohs and ahhs of the crowd, I would say it was pretty spectacular. We did see the Purina Mills (USA) team practice the day before the competition, and oh, yeah, it was pretty cool. Six horses performing half passes in opposite directions, through one another’s ranks and lining up in tandem; gaits matching changing music wonderfully; synchronized piaffes and passages that were way cooler than anything I can do on a horse.
"And so I would like to state for the record that I spent a night brushing elbows with the elite of Palm Beach.
"We did eventually have to come back home, however. But next time, I’m thinking about leaving that part out of the plans."

And I haven't heard a single thing from anyone about it. Chelsea, Brittany and Amy all read it and liked it, but Sarah and Karen, the people I sent it to for inclusion into the newsletter, have yet to respond. At all. It worries me a little. I mean, you'd think they'd at least tell me what they think of it, you know? So I'm listening to Bon Jovi on YouTube, and is it just me, or does the acoustic guitar music in "Blaze of Glory" sound a lot like the music from the "Firefly" theme song?And lookie at that! It's only ten after 9... I still have 20 minutes to putter around here... huh...
"I want to laaaaaaaaaaay you dowwwn in a beeeeeed of roooooses...
But toniiiiiiiiight I sleep on a beeeeeeeed of naaaaaaaiiiiiils...!!!!"
Again, I would like to apologize for this.
But hey, the blog title should have warned you well enough.
Maybe I'll post again soon.
TTYL

Gaelic Storm @ the House of Blues Cleveland 2-28-2009

So I started this blog in September of 06 (evidently) because I apparently expected that I would write something beyond that first silly post. I was incorrect. Silly me.

But I thought I'd pick it up again, since I regularly blog on MySpace, so that I can have a public forum in which to showcase my writing. As I said in my first post, I know this blog will probably not be seen by anyone, but the possibility remains that someone could find it. And I would be tickled to find out that someone out there, by which I mean someone who is not my sister or my cousin who figuratively bang on my door every other week demanding a new blog, is reading what I write. So if you do read, please, tickle me by leaving a comment.

I'll start this new public blogging process thusly:

Cad e an sceil a buachail?
Oh… what's that?. You don't speak Gaelic? I’m so sorry
WHAT’S THE RUMPUS?!?
Saturday the 28th of February marked my very first official Gaelic Storm concert. And when I say “official”, I mean “the first Gaelic Storm concert wherein we actually had to buy tickets to see just Gaelic Storm in a real venue, and where I knew the words to virtually every song they did”. This is as opposed to seeing them at an Irish festival, where you pay $10 to see a whole slew of Irish bands, and where I was at first like, “Who are we watching again?”, and then like, “Gaelic Storm… let’s watch them again!”, and then like, “What? Gaelic Storm’s not here this year? Now that I can actually sing some of their songs? Well, poop on them, then!”
But enough of my customary ramblings. You probably want to know how the evening went, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this blog.
Dad drove us to the venue in his new car, where we had some aggravating trouble with his new iPod, which decided about 15 minutes in that it didn’t like our music and was going to play dumb when we tried to get it to play something. So my Mp3 player was a stand-in, and performed perfectly. So much for the awesomeness of the iPod.
At the House of Blues restaurant, to my major disappointment, I couldn’t find the dish I had the last time I was there (remember the chicken linguini in a tabasco garlic sauce from my Hanson blog?), so I ordered a barbeque chicken pizza. It was good, though if I were to order it again I would have them go easy on the cilantro. Our waitress was awesome. She noted Dad’s Great Big Sea hat and said, “Nice hat. Gotta love those Newfoundlanders!” Near the end of the meal she sat down with us and talked about being involved with the people who helped band break into the American market (or something like that). Dad told her that I love Bob and she said that he has just about the best sense of humor of anyone she’s met, but that it took her a long time to figure out what he was saying when he talked, because of his accent. And his monotone baritone, I guess.
So anyway, we got in line at around 6, and were the first ones there. After a short while we were joined by a group of three, a man, his 16-year old daughter, and another guy that could have been a brother or a friend and who was interesting to look at because he had facial features like Alan Doyle and Sean McCann and Bob Hallett all smushed into one person. Not their best features or their worst, necessarily, but I found it amusing.
We noticed an odd smell and saw smoke in the holding area of the HOB the moment we entered, and wondered what it was from. Half an hour or so into our wait an employee went running past us with a fire extinguisher, toward the exit at the end of the room. Evidently the restaurant next door smokes some of their food and an employee there had discarded some very hot wood in a plastic garbage bin. We were moved into the House of Blues proper while they got rid of the smoke, so they could open the far doors without freezing us. The people we were standing with were friendly, but not really sociable. So I mostly just talked to Dad.
They didn’t open the doors for us until 8 o’clock, which is actually when we were supposed to be let in, but for some reason I had been expecting to be let in at 7, since that’s when the doors opened for the other shows I’ve seen there. I took a position front and center, right where I figured Patrick Murphy’s microphone would be. What followed was what seemed like an eternity of waiting. It was just about almost as bad as a Hanson concert, waiting, waiting, for the band to come out… waiting, waiting, while people fill in behind you who think you enjoy having their bodies constantly bumping into you… waiting, waiting, while your feet and your back start to get stiff and sore before the show even starts… waiting, waiting, while a myriad of future venue dates flash across the giant projector screen in front of you… Oh, there’s an opening act, is there? A pipe and drum band? Cool, okay. Three songs and they’re done? Okay, cool… waiting, waiting, while people who are already drunk whoop and squall and get on your nerves… waiting, waiting, as you yawn, shift your weight and think, “When they come out, it will stop mattering how long it took for them to get here”… waiting, waiting, stuffing you ears with tissue, cotton, or in my case, a leftover dinner napkin, in anticipation of a tremendous amount of noise… waiting, waiting, nibbling on the piece of chocolate Dad gave you… waiting, waiting, resting your head on folded arms atop the no-man’s-land divider between the stage and the audience… waiting, waiting, hoping that the guy next to you won’t smell that bad for the entire show… waiting… waiting… waiting… waiting… waiting… waiting… waiting…
I couldn’t actually tell you what time it was when the band came out, but it was sometime between 9:15 and 9:30, I suppose. I recognized the song they started the show with – an instrumental from the Bring Your Wellies album called "Bare in the Basin". Much fun. Love Peter’s bagpipes.
I’m thinking on writing this blog in a manner similar to the one I used for the Great Big Sea concert last September. Rather than write in strict prose, I’ll bullet some highlights, in no particular order. First, the set list. I believe I have all the songs here, minus two or possibly three instrumentals that I didn’t know the titles to. Also, only the first six songs are actually in order, because as you know I cannot realistically think ahead for the life of me and my phone died in the middle of "Me & the Moon" (but I did get to send Mom a text when they started the song).
*side note* When I first learned the words to "Me & the Moon", I would sing it loudly when I was in the car with my mom, encouraging her to sing the “he brought the light!” part. I eventually got her to sing it with me albeit not always enthusiastically. I totally would have called her during this song if my phone hadn’t died. *end side note*
1) Bare in the Basin
2) Scalliwag
3) Born to Be a Bachelor
4) Punjab Paddy
5) Death Ride to Durango
6) Me & the Moon
7) Slim Jim & the Seven Eleven Girl
8) Beggarman
9) Darcy’s Donkey
10) Johnny Tarr
11) Johhny Jump Up
12) Drink the Night Away
13) Kelly’s Wellies
14) What’s the Rumpus?
15) Don’t Go For the One
16) I miss My Home
17) Courtin’ in the Kitchen
18) Floating the Flambeau
19) The Night I Punched Russell Crowe
20) Kiss Me, I’m Irish
I know the Kiss Me, I’m Irish was the last song, and “What’s the Rumpus? was like, the second-to-last, but as far as order goes, that’s all I’m really sure about. Also, I KNOW we heard them doing "Lover's Wreck" during the soundcheck, but I can't for the life of me remember if they did it during the show. And you'd think I'd remember, since that's, like, probably my favorite song on the new album.

As promised, here are the highlights:

~I was front-and-center… and in my “I Love Irish Boys” t-shirt.
~During the customary “Me & the Moon” audience shout-a-thon, Patrick’s side evidently “won” The Steve side, otherwise known as the “awesome” side, was gracious about their/our “defeat”.
~What’s the Rumpus? spent a good long while at the top of the World Billboard music charts, edging out Celtic Women. Patrick expressed great joy at this, as though he had been avenged for years of lagging behind them. He symbolically drop-kicked Celtic Women right there onstage.
~Post-Johnny Tarr, Patrick usurped the cowboy hat of someone in the 4th or 5th row so that he might do the popular Kenny Chesney version of the song. I had been thinking, as I drove home on Friday, that I should have been bringing my cowgirl hat with me, just in case. Alas, I did not, but I’m positive that it would have made its way onstage if I had remembered to bring it.
~Ryan Lacey is evidently both a Steelers fan and a Bears fan. Patrick was probably trying to get a rise out of the audience, and had chosen poor Ryan as the recipient of a wave of anti-Steelers sentiment.
~This show attracted the biggest crowd Gaelic Storm has ever seen at the Cleveland HOB.
~Since Jessie was a less-than-stationary fiddler, Patrick helped himself to her whiskey on two occasions while she was off gallivanting on another part of the stage. The first gulp merited him with a verbal reprimand, the second with a boot to the rear.
~The girls behind me began irritating me before the show even started, mostly because they were constantly bumping into me, but also because the girl that decided to wedge herself in behing me just before intermission was moving around enough that, many times, I feared she was going to dump her beer on me. And this wasn’t like Great Big Sea concert-style vertical movement – it was constant turning, hair whipping and holding her cup at a dangerous angle with one hand while she fiddled with her phone with the other (I know this because I turned around during intermission to see the crowd and to look for Carrie, who had texted me at the beginning of the show to tell me she was there.) I wanted to kill these girls before the second half of the show started, as they were also screaming insults at other people and tossing around some particularly loud profanity.
~It doesn’t sound like the band will be playing the Berea Irish Festival this year (again…), but they will be at the Dublin Irish Festival.
~A lunchbox in Ireland consists of a six pack of beer and a potato. Patrick has a backlog of potatoes sitting at his house from the 21 years he spent in 4th grade. His mother packed him a lunch every day.
~During one of the instrumentals, Peter and Jessie ‘battled’ one another at the center of the stage, each giving the other the boot when their time was up (I think that’s grammatically incorrect, but I don’t care).
~I noticed a small Spiderman action figure seated at the edge of the stage during intermission, which Patrick proceeded to pick up and put in his pocket later in the show. He left it there, peeking from his front jean pocket, for several songs before tossing it to someone in the front row.

~I squealed with glee (quite loudly as well) when they announced that they were going to play “Darcy’s Donkey”, a song about a drunken donkey who wins a horse race in Donegal. Patrick said that there really is a stuffed donkey carcass hanging on the wall at Jamesy’s Pub in Donegal, Ireland, and that he was inspired to write the song to explain how the donkey ended up there. When I squealed, he looked at me and said, “Oh, are you from Donegal?” I am sad to say I had no clever comeback until it was just a moment too late. You know how that is.
~Steve sat on Peter while he was trying to play his pipes. I have picture of this as well. Poor guy! There's Peter, playing his pipes, trying to be professional, when out of nowhere he gets gang-jumped by Patrick, Jessie and especially Steve!

~When he was introducing “Courtin’ in the Kitchen”, Patrick sent the song out to all the naughty girls in the audience, then proceeded to point us all out. (“You, and you, and you, and you, and you. Wait… is that all we have? *scream from someone in the back* Oh, you’re a naughty girl too? Okay, that makes six then. That’s pretty good. This song is for all of you.”)
~Yes I did just say “us”. I was Naughty Girl # 4.
~Once during “Kiss Me, I’m Irish”, Patrick came to the edge of the stage and I blew him a kiss. He blew one back, though with some difficulty, as the harmonica and the microphone were both in the way.

~Seeing Steve Twigger play the bodhrán was an odd thing. At one point he was onstage with just Patrick and Ryan, Patrick on the other bodhrán and Ryan on one of those wooden boxy things that you sit on and play. I don’t know what they’re called, but like I said, there’s a picture. Ryan is one wild, energetic drummer.
I also noticed that Ryan is a devout flip-flop wearer. He had small red marks on the insides of his feet that chronic flip-flop wearers get when their shoes don't fit perfectly and the straps rub. I've gotten them myself. They suck.

~For those of you who haven’t heard the story, and might be wondering, “The Night I Punched Russell Crowe” is about the time when Patrick Murphy was working as a bartender in California (shortly before the band was discovered by filmmaker James Cameron and given a spot in a little movie he made called “Titanic”) and Russell Crowe walked in with a cigarette. Patrick told him twice that he would have to get rid of it, but Crowe and his two bodyguards challenged him. Patrick told us that it wasn’t a fair fight… they should have at least 4 Australians to have a chance against an Irishman. He also said that his mother had always told him that if he ever got into a skirmish, the way to fight was to hit hard, hit fast, then run away as fast as you can. Which is exactly what he did. And that’s what the song is about.

The band had plans to meet fans in the lobby after the show for pictures and autographs, but Dad and I knew that the lobby was bound to be downright crazy and sardine-like in its packed-ness. As would Flannery’s Pub, where the band was also going to head for a few pints (as if they hadn’t had enough during the show itself). So we just hit the swag table and booted out of there, though I did talk Dad into taking a jaunt down to the parking lot where the GBS tour bus had been parked. We saw a van with a hitch. The Gaelic Storm Tour… Van?
Possibly..
“Let me tell you a little story about a man named Johnny Tarr
He was a hard-drinking son-of-a-preacher, always at the bar
Lager from the tap or shots of Paddy from the shelf
He could open his throttle and throw back a bottle as quick as the Devil himself
Johnny Tarr…”