Days Traveled, Unraveled: Missouri (Part 2)

Early next morning, those couches were still free. But everyone was still asleep from a long night of partying. Mely and I wanted to do and see so much. We saw City Museum, which was a giant playground for all ages, built from scraps of old buildings and metals. The entire place had nooks for sneaking into, crevices that led to other entrances or exits. It    looped and and intertwined within a structure of a whale. There were slides and windows and swirly stairs all tucked away in neat hiding spots. There were underground caves. A skateboard ramp. Ropes for swinging across half pipes. Old arcade games mish-moshed into a concession stand. Outside, there were old small airplane structures built between coiled metal for climbing through. I couldn’t help but think of that Always Sunny episode where Frank got stuck in a coil. It was the neatest “museum” ever. Totally hands on. And pretty cheap, from what I could remember.

My POV inside the metal tube. Though I could see Mely much more than just shadow in real life.

Somebody ACTUALLY stuck in a coil.

Since Mely and I settled for a paid parking lot near City Museum, we figured we’d walk around town and get our money’s worth at the parking lot. So we walked to some nearby memorials which were definitely more like a museum. They accrued so much war materials from several different wars, all in sincere honor of our vets and troops. Then we headed for the Old Courthouse. Before the courthouse laid some green space, filled with plastic Easter eggs and a large fountain that poured water more like a waterfall, than a typical fountain. Some citizens dipped their feet in and walked along the steps of the fountain. Had I not been a tad too chilly, I would have done the same.

We grabbed Hardee’s which I had seen before, but suddenly now just realized was the same as Carl’s Jr. Literally just different names. Seeing that NJ has neither, it was a bizarre thing that didn’t make sense to me at all. But whatever, it was right there. Then we toured the Old Courthouse (fo’ free!) and took in the rosey colors and definitely old stylings that differed from Austin’s Capitol. And right behind the Old Courthouse, stands the only thing I knew Missouri for: the Gateway Arch. We learned that for a price, you can actually ride INSIDE the arch in a tram, but we had been on all kinds of heights, and saved our money.

   

The only thing left to do on our list for St. Louis was an OK Go concert that night, and potentially a free Budweiser tour, if we had time. Already exhausted through half of our day, we lingered on the idea of sleeping elsewhere for the night. I flashbacked to that Best Western we stayed at on our second night near the Four Corners and remembered just how good it felt physically, mentally, and emotionally to be so cozy. Mely proposed another airbnb and I only agreed as long as the price was good. And damn was the price good once again. This house wasn’t far from our current location and the concert. This house was really well kept and pretty new, with a few rooms. The hosts were very nice and accommodating and were so enthusiastic about our OK Go concert.

The concert:

Mely had heard me play and overplay OK Go throughout our roadtrip, especially since I didn’t have a lot else in my phone library other than them, Simon & Garfunkel, and Fall Out Boy. And I had only raved about how innovative OK Go was and neat to see live. I only hoped they would blow her mind just as much as they continue to do to mine.

The venue, The Pageant, threw me for a loop with its upcharge of $5 to any one below 21 years old. Poor Mely now had to physically pay for her age on top of our previous experiences of denying bars as options. Then after sifting through all of these Missouri and Iowa licenses, they came across mine while carding. Though I had only just turned 22 a month prior, this was the first time anyone questioned my license. And though I answered my address and birthday adequately, he still persisted on asking more questions. I was slightly offended.

But we got barricade yet again, over to the left this time, nearby the bassist, Tim. Though I wouldn’t have been unhappy with any location, Tim was a good spot because my turtle’s named after him (Nordwind; his last name). (Side bar-I’ve told him this in at a previous show and he definitely thought it was cool AND later commented “love.” on a picture of my turtle on Instagram). Anyway, with massive amounts of confetti, digital shows and clips, GoPro cameras on mics, and absolutely good tunes, I converted Mely over to the amazing performances of OK Go. They’d often break the set for a Q&A session with anyone with a raised hand in the audience. They were charismatic. And they performed. And they danced. They remained the coolest dudes in my mind. And I still see visuals from their show when I hear certain songs.

But alas the night ended. And we slept soundly in our comfortable and accommodating airbnb location.

With confetti in our sheets, purses, and hoodies slipping out, the next morning, I reminded myself how good St. Louis felt. How good OK Go is. How good life is. The roadtrip was nearing an end, but we weren’t done with St. Louis.

Our next stop was the Budweiser Factory tour, however it was closed. Our guesses was due to the Easter morning holiday. So we made our way for the free St. Louis Zoo. Though we saw a free zoo in Chicago, this was still a good experience. Getting to compare the two free zoos, getting to see animals once again, etc. (St. Louis Zoo was bigger and had more and better exotic animals). We toured the whole place which took a couple hours of our day and finally our Missouri experience was over; we had a full itinerary, and a larger experience. It was time to head on to the next state: Arkansas.

We watched this orangutan put the blanket over himself

Days Traveled, Unraveled: Wisconsin

March 31, 2015

Mely’s anxiety truly kicks in before a concert. Irrational fears occur about being late, losing a ticket, or any other crazy catastrophe, so much that she has nightmares about missing shows. They’re all somewhat believable too. That being said, she’s always one of the first in line, always up front at the barricade for all of her shows, and well-versed in concert-attending. The number of concerts she and I have been to individually should create a no-stress tone regarding our attendance. However, paranoia strikes hard when it comes to the most life-saving thing us music nerds have. Especially when this was Mely’s favorite band. And she had to be there extra early for her VIP package.

So naturally, we arrived very early. We had planned for this show long before I even arrived to Los Angeles in mid January. When Circa Survive announced their tour dates, it was very conflicting and hard for us to buy tickets and plan for a show while we kept our planners and road trip open-ended. How do you decide on a date when anything could happen and you could be in any state at any time? On top of that, originally, we were supposed to start in New Jersey with my car. It just goes to show how much plans change, as well as routes and dates.

But I suggested trying to make the Wisconsin date work for several reasons.

1. I knew I wanted to be in New Jersey for Garth’s birthday on March 17, because I’d be even more of an emotional wreck if I were away from my siblings. I figured we could get to Wisconsin by the 31st since NJ on the 17th.
2. Our friend Diana, from the same website we had met Ali, Brittany, Sam + more, lived in Wisconsin and would probably love going to a Circa Survive/Balance & Composure show.
3. The Rave was a pretty well-known venue that all bands love playing. Since we had both heard about The Rave so many times, I was dying to see what it was really like.

These seemed like enough reasons to go, and we needed an accomplishment/thing to do in Wisconsin anyway, so this, along with my birthday, was one of the few things we actually planned in advanced. In some ways, it was nice, because our trip had been almost too leisurely without these set dates/plans. We needed a goal to be somewhere by some time, otherwise the trip would have seemed all that much more exhausting without any kind of end goal or date. Friends and family would have seemed that much further away for the both of us. It would have seemed like our beds were nowhere in sight. We essentially wouldn’t have much to look forward to without our few set plans, because the whole trip was too open-ended to the point of turning into one long, endless, staggering abyss.

So, like concerts always do, this show was here to take that pain away from us. Imagining these bands touring non-stop, constantly going through these motions that we’ve only now started doing, is mind boggling. But conditions are different. They have music with them every night. They aren’t always driving. And there’s enough of them to mix up the crew, rather than mine and Mely’s case, where we only have each other. But alas, they make it work for all of our sakes. And what a blessing concerts truly are.

While Mely did her VIP meet ‘n’ greet, I got some fine-tuned writing finished in a nearby Starbucks. With a college right up the street from The Rave, tons of students were in and out, dawning their university gear. I felt intimidated and stuck in the same seat. They all had drives, and I had my articles that made my butt and mind feel sore as I sat hours in the Starbucks. I knew in my hear I’d go back to school one day, but it was frustrating sometimes. Here I was on the most open-ended roadtrip that could end whenever we wanted (or more realistically, when we ran out of money), with my only commitment being my Paste articles, while all of these students were frantic over midterms and 5 classes. I was stressed out enough with my light load. How could I go back to school? Could I even do it? All of this in the back of my mind as I edited, re-edited, and re-evaluated my article.

Eventually, the time came for the show. I sent my article stuff and immediately found Mely, front and center. Mely told me how the band recognized her from all of the other times they’ve met and how the lead singer, Anthony Green, called her Britney Spears. We laughed about her movie, Crossroads (to which we assumed he was talking about) (which I still have not seen, but now want to just because of Green’s reference), and kept cracking jokes about how weird he is.

The opening band, Chon, was so lively, even without any lyrics in any of their songs. All of the bandmates were young and friendly. Their vibes reminded me of Phish in a way, just being a simple jam band. And the crowd for this band was better than I could have imagined in this more “alternative” scene. Everyone (with the exception of one person rudely shouting, “SING!!!!”) swayed to the music and cheered excitedly each time a song ended. I was proud that everyone could see that these kids had chops, and that they didn’t need lyrics to prove it.

Meanwhile Balance & Composure wooed the entire crowd with their heart-wrenching lyrics that took everyone back to their more emo days. It’s funny how a band’s music can make you feel like you can relate to them, even if your situations are nothing near the same. But when you simplify life’s crazy complex situations down to the most bare emotions, and then down to your core’s music and soul, you find that everyone in the room is all of the same.

And that’s what Circa Survive does too. Their show had tons of dedicated fans with their album art tattooed on their arms and legs. Their songs got everyone pumped and wild. And the crowd made the band so happy, just as any good crowd does. For a whole crowd to collectively show their appreciation truly proves that connection we all have with music in ourselves and with each other. It’s magical. It’s why Mely and I go to concerts. It’s why Mely and I are friends. I know I’ve spent a good portion of these blogs talking about the meaning of music to us, but it’s true. We wouldn’t be enjoying ourselves at this concert together if it weren’t for a different band that we used to love.

So when Anthony Green kicked out some loser giving the finger to the band, and aggressively shoving everyone around him to the side (just to prove his hatred for Anthony Green?), Green called him out on it. And the crowd collectively jeered Green on for telling him off. And when the kid still kept doing it, Green kicked him out. Because “punks” like that don’t belong in a place where music and hearts are all of the same. And in rock ‘n’ roll, there’s no time for being an asshole just to prove something. It all boils down to sensibility.

So after a good, solid show, we made way for Diana’s apartment. To no surprise at all, Diana was the sweetest. She set us up to sleep on her floor, and we chatted music and life for a couple of hours, before passing out yet again.

And the next morning, when she bought us McDonald’s breakfast, I was sad to leave her. Because we were just getting to really know each other, and really learn about this great person we’ve known online for years.

The internet and music and concerts and the people involved in all three of those will never cease to amaze me. They will always impress me time and time again. And I guess that’s why Wisconsin was so special after all. Forget its really blue lakes, free Jelly Belly factory tours, and probably outstanding summer vacation options, because we’ve got friends in great places…Although, I wouldn’t mind coming back for those things either….

One member of Chon standing on a member’s shoulders of Circa Survive.

 

Days Traveled, Unraveled: Indiana

Although I was upset to leave Ohio, there was much to be done and seen within the next few days. We were going to stay with Mely’s aunt just outside of Chicago in Illinois for a few days, and then it was concert time in Wisconsin already. With no friends or family in Indiana or Michigan, we decided we’d pass on Michigan as a whole, and only drive through Indiana.

My idea of Indiana was essentially just fields of cornstalks, and that’s basically what it was. The state seemed bland and the people at the gas station seemed even blander. Maybe it was the state, maybe it was my attitude after leaving Ohio, or maybe it was my exhaustion haunting back, but I was easily agitated. Mely would ask a question and for some reason I couldn’t help but get snippy fast.

Our stop at the gas station was perfect. Not only did I get a few minutes to myself on my phone as Mely pumped gas, but my Twitter feed read something about Indiana. Of all states! And not only that, but it was my favorite band tweeting about Indiana, TONIGHT. I thought I was a day behind on my tweets. I thought I read wrong. But then I wasted even more of my data plan for my maps app to see just how far The All-American Rejects would be playing. Perfect. They weren’t too far off track from our boring highway drive.

Suddenly no longer agitated, I begged Mely to agree to watch them. She complied, even though our pockets were tight. I could tell she wanted to get to her family in Chicago. I didn’t blame her. We had only been seeing people I knew this entire time. And not only that, but I had made a lot of this trip about my sad, sad life (to which she had even agreed with me that my life sucked). So maybe it was my first hopeful attitude in a long time that allowed her to give me yet another moment in this trip dedicated to my decisions. Maybe she remembered how frequently I mentioned their lack of tour dates.

And that was what was so strange about this tour/date: it was hardly announced previously. They were only touring select colleges in random cities/states. It was just them, no opening acts. It felt like this tour didn’t even exist at all. There was hardly any proof anywhere, and especially not on Ticketmaster. I prayed that this was real. And that we were welcome, though we weren’t college students, let alone students of Wabash College, Indiana.

When we arrived, we had trouble finding the exact location of the venue. Were we looking for a theater? A gym (2 of the 2 times I’d previously seen AAR at colleges were both in gyms.)? The college map seemed upside-down to us and we couldn’t get our bearings straight. The only thing we saw were a bunch of drunk college kids BBQ-ing in high-waisted shorts and American flag-themed sunglasses. We were lost. I was intimidated. Until we saw a couple who resembled something closer to Mely and I and something farther from the students too excited for a throwback (Move Along was ’05, Gives You Hell was ’08). We all traced the gym until we found someone to help us out. There, we were told we could attend and it was just $20 even.

Mely and I were booted to wait outside the venue, while the couple was guest-listed inside. Outside, there was literally a line of ONE person. This lady was probably in her late 20’s and was a bigger AAR fan than me (which can say a lot). But Mely and I needed cash, and thankfully we saw a Chase right around the corner.

If there’s anything I love about my bank, is that I’ve hardly ever been too estranged from a Chase ATM. Even Mely commented on the frequency and location of Chase banks on our entire road trip. It’s never been an issue for me. While trying to find Wells Fargo’s have been surprisingly out of reach.

We rushed back to find that we were still number 2 and 3 in line. Clearly everyone at Wabash College was coming when doors opened, because they were too busy getting hammered until then.  We were front and center. We were at the awkwardly-placed barricades. And this was happening very soon. Finally.

They played a good set, and a set that any dedicated fan would call “expected,” given that their audience are people who were not aware of the last album’s existence. We got some weird eye contact from all of the members, and maybe it was because I knew all the words. Mely even cursed at me since she only knew a good portion of the songs due to my tendency to over play them on the road. (It’s been noted by A LOT of people to the band that they’re good music to drive to, what can I say!) And I cursed at my phone, fittingly enough during “Gives You Hell,” due to Julian’s pristine time to text me and ask me how I am. I gave my phone the finger, and didn’t respond to him until well after the concert was over, since the band didn’t hang around to sign autographs or anything this time around.

“Why does he care?” I kept asking over and over again. He didn’t want to be with me. Our conversations since my meltdown in Syracuse were complacent and aloof. He didn’t care. I could tell he didn’t. And he was telling himself and me otherwise. Caught in the routine of talking to him (now once every couple of days), and left with my own affection for him, I still chatted with him that night. I tried to brag about how great this spontaneous concert was, but he couldn’t be jealous of this–no matter how fun and exciting my road trip was without his communication.

But thank goodness I still have concerts as my number 1 reliance toward happiness. Concerts have always been my hope, my saving grace, my passion. And thank goodness Julian could not take this concert away from me. No matter how much he nearly ruined it towards the end. Because AAR was still kickass. And I just had fun. And I finally felt that I didn’t need him. And I suddenly had a solid memory and accomplishment for Indiana. Without hardly even trying. This is a real road trip.

Dignify The Sovereignty

In the midst of a post-hardcore concert at a soon-to-be-booming venue, there’s college-aged me: fresh-faced with an anxious–but excited–smile, an off-white sweater patterned with black giraffes all over, gray dress pants, and a loose bun in my hair after a shift at work. This feeling in my gut is not for my usual excitement for a favorite band, but complete opposite. I was ready to single-handedly egg Dignify The Sovereignty’s* tour bus. Packed in my gray and white polka dotted backpack were a dozen eggs and my confidence, both ready for use, but also easily hidden.

I sped off from work to the grocery store to pick up a half-dozen eggs. Parking the car and running inside, I faced myself with two options: a dozen eggs carton or 2 dozen eggs carton. Was DTS’s bus worth my money of a dozen eggs, when it’s possible that the moment I arrive there, I’ll have to turn back because of chickening out or highly-alert security? My 21-year-old self seemed to think “Fuck it,” bought the dozen eggs, and ran back to my car.

I arrived to the venue minutes before DTS’s set was about to start, when two men stopped me for a $5 parking fee. Five dollar parking fee? This band doesn’t deserve any of my money. And if my cash goes directly to the venue, then I don’t want this venue to relish in profit from DTS of all bands…please anybody, but DTS. I muttered something about not having cash and drove off to the next available business with parking: a bowling alley featuring a parked cop car.

I called my friend Allie right away.

“I think this cop is stationed here, because he suspects punk-rock kids to refuse to pay for parking.”

“I’m happy with whatever you decide, dude,” Allie told me.

It was because of her–no. for her that I was even doing this in the first place. Three of Dignify the Sovereignty’s band members had messed with Allie’s head and one of the three had stomped on her heart, before the 18-year-old eventually declared to Allie that he basically loved her and later did not speak to her again, and reigniting his affair with his old girlfriend. Or something of the sort. Long stories short: these boys are stupid and young. Their fame is really annoying since their parents paid for success and the band can’t even treat friends kindly on the road there. We (mostly Allie) knew them before they let fame’s air swell in their empty heads. We knew them when they were just unknown dickwads, rather than popular douches. If only we knew just how childish and immature their behavior would turn out.

So for revenge 3,000 miles away from Allie, there’s me: giraffe-sweatered and determined. I parked the at the Walgreens next to the suspicious cop.

Compared to the 15 year-old scene girls inside and outside the venue, I stuck out like a sore thumb in my work clothes. I traced the edges of the parking lot, hidden in between cars as kids passed by. While I’m aware that I’m still young (hence why I’m probably doing this in the first place), these others all seemed to look so much younger, yet they all had their cool. I constantly texted Allie out of nervousness as every second passed by.

Eventually I skirted up to the buses and vans. Dozens of kids were hanging out by U-Haul trailers, drinks and cigarettes in hands. Wait, these weren’t kids, they were the opening bands. Were they all in the “19 and Younger” club? I looked like such an outsider since I was outside the perimeter of everyone’s party-coolness in my stupid work clothes. Now isn’t the time to get nervous over a bunch of youngin’s, Tobi.

I made sure to spot DTS’s bus: the biggest and most boastful. But everyone was outside. And their vans and trailers wouldn’t hide me in order to vandalize their bus. I’d immediately get stopped before I could even throw an egg. I sneaked back to where the fans parked and I hid in the shadows of the venue building. That’s when it hit me (maybe like a thrown egg): I can egg their bus from the other side since that side faced the wall of the venue. No one had any need to hang out there.

Carefully crouching down in case someone could see me between cars, I slowly inched forward, waddling like a duck with all my weight lowered on bent knees. I turned the corner of the building and there was the bus: under the most light but least focused on since it was something like a narrow alleyway. Thick, dark curtains covered their driver side window and windshield. The rest of the bus was windowless. My confidence still hid in the depths of my backpack, next to the eggs.

What if the driver is sleeping behind that curtain and hears me chuck an egg at the side of the bus and reveals his face behind the curtain? What if a friend of a different band  is casually hanging out in there? If someone hears the smack and crack of eggs, I’m easily spotted under the bright lights. Then what? I sprint ’round the building and hike back to the parking lot 3 businesses down? I’ll get caught. Like, I’ll actually physically be caught.

I fired an egg at their back tire, also releasing my anxiety. I took a picture for Allie’s entertainment.

I considered ditching the leftover 11 eggs on the remains of their pretty dark blue or black, expensive bus, but ultimately decided against it since the sound would attract much more than my aggression towards their tire. People were feet away from me on the other side. I wasn’t even 100% sure this was their bus. I technically egged their bus and my deed was done.

I casually walked back to my car and told Allie and a couple of other friends. I drove home and snuggled under my comforter like nothing happened tonight (even though something close-to-nothing actually did happen). Ah, to have the energy and stupidity. Though life is often filled with depression and stress, even for a 20-something-year-old, maybe my life without Syracuse University isn’t so boring after all. I read my incoming texts before knocking out to prepare for another work day starting at 6AM.

“Well Dignify The Sovereignty is playing that festival we’re going to in 3 weeks, anyway. I can help you then.”

Round two.

---

*Band’s name is changed for confidentiality.

Misled, Miss Leading

She wiped her tears with her hands, not her sleeves, allowing water to collect, recollect, and wet her fingers and cheeks, over and over again. The pain would not stop from her eyes, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she was angry–not sad. Her flawless fingernails, perfectly painted for every visit, somehow missed all of her tears, still leaving the rounded jet-black shiny nails, just that. Her eyes were as dreamy as ever, despite the crying and bloodshot, because it was her lids that kept her calm, cool, and eclectic. I don’t think she knew that it coincided with her personality spot on.
“Don’t cry, babygirl,” she would have told me if our roles were reversed. But I knew our roles could never be reversed. I could never have been able to pull off being the rock ‘n’ roll chica legendary she was. A real Band Aid, so to speak. Not the original Penny Lane, obviously, but she was her own independent woman. She pulled off getting into a heavily guarded rock festival for completely free, without even pretending to dig her hands into her pockets. She got us backstage/tour bus access, although she was in my home state. She had the drive. She had the looks. She had the attitude. She had the connections. And stories, oh did she have the stories. I had none of that. At home, I was looked at as the chord, the spark, to all things music. But half of that image couldn’t have been created without her. So I hugged her and said,
“You cry all you want, Ali. Because you deserve to.”

 

MY COLLEGE LIFE:

So when we meet others, and when we get emotionally attached to our new found friends, friendships, lovers, occasional night’ers, are we misled because we’ve been teased by said people? Or do we mislead ourselves? We have certain expectations that the other may or may not also envision. And when that certain somebody feeds into your soul, giving you the direct attention and current states of happiness, are our imaginations bursting out of the seams, creating new instances and comforts? We end up believing certain things and we think it’s because the other implanted particular emotions, ideas, and moves, but should we blame ourselves for believing it the entire time?

The cycles are rounding again and I can’t stop thinking or believing one or the other. At this point, I’m so lost that I can’t even tell if I’m going back and forth or if I’m cycling. And that alone leaves me, once again, in cyclicious notions.

July 15, 2011

I stared at the ticket receipt in an email I received from CrowdSurge.com. The price for two tickets at Yankee Stadium: $345.00. Thinking I paid for the two best tickets of all time compared to anyone I could come across, I smiled wildly (and gloatingly) until the next day when my debit card was declined. My bank had put a block on my checking account, for I had never purchased anything so expensive in my life, Chase bank thought, ‘Why would she buy so much now? It is an anomaly, this must be fraud!’ After clearing the block, and able to buy food again, I smiled, remembering the trouble with the bank was worth it because I was going to see Paul McCartney.

Paul McCartney! The Cream of the Crop! The Best of the Best! The Rocker of Ages! The One and Only Paul McCartney, former The Beatles member. I had two tremendous tickets at Yankee Stadium. I took my glorious 172 dollar-worth seat and looked all around me. Not one seat could be bad in this stadium. Not the nosebleed seats up top (Hi Stacey! I know you’re up there!), not the last man in floor seating, standing behind a large crowd, probably barely able to see the top of Paul’s head when he arrives on stage, not even me: Section 110, seat 24; slightly stage left. All of the seats remain good because any seat in proximity to Paul, is godly.

The always hip, cool, performer walked out and joked, “Who is this Derek Jeter guy? Somebody said he’s got more hits than me!”

It’s clear why no one can have more hits than Paul, though, because his performance was just as lively as it was in ’64.  Paul does something truly rock ‘n’ roll/sexy when he performs. He puts his soul into it. Even at the usually crumpling age of 69, Paul still knows how to move. When you listen to any track on a record, tape, cd, or mp3, you can hear him rockin’ out, enjoying his creation—no matter how many times he’s recorded, played, and replayed a song…speaking of which, the crowd on July 15, 2011 in the Bronx were able to hear a first. Paul had never played “The Night Before” live until that very night. Paul’s voice is something breathtaking and flat-out exciting. You hear and feel his energy in every line, chord, and strum. He makes it so simplistic, you wonder why you’re not a singer yourself.

But of course the night’s climax commenced with “Live and Let Die,” while hundreds of fireworks boomed behind stage, as jets of flame began igniting on stage. Paul, a genuinely comforting guy, stood still after the song was done and held his hands over his ears while shaking his head, letting us know it was too loud. Anything he does becomes genius, and this was a truly funny act that possibly could have turned Paul into a comedian.

The crowd loves Paul. America loves Paul. The world loves Paul. With an animated crew and band mates, it’s hard to not lose yourself in one night of amazement. Lights danced around the stage in perfect charisma to the music. All time favorites make you get up and dance. Even during the slow songs, all fans had a mutual respect for The Man and stood, hoping to show every bit of love they can. There is a reason Paul is so famous loved, it’s his passion and love for music—the same we all have for his.

I Decided Many Years Ago That I’m Naming My Child ‘Santi’

What a toll this usually takes on an 18-year-old girl: one of her favorite bands has gone their separate ways. Not just any band, but a band that had set out a music pallet for her taste. One band that begun it all.

After just having seen The Academy Is… live at what happened to be their last show, I feel no remorse for the recent break-up. With each band member starting a new solo career, I am happy what they have all given me together. It’s a time of understanding. Their first two albums were all-time hits that never let you down. Each song probably stood as a time-marker for most, and life-enlightener for others. Every band saves a life because that’s the magic of music for ya.
Their third album was somewhat of a downfall, but still a unique sound and basic ground for all fans.

I am saddened by this course, but every band has their time and it was no surprise that their time to end was now. Two band members already said their goodbye’s some months ago; having heard no new music in over three years and almost never seeing them on tour, their new path was not shocking. It is the real fans that still listen to their music with pride after the charismatic music TAI… has developed. We do not back down now.

Almost Here for me has always been the album to listen to when I want to sing at the top of my lungs, pretending my vocal chords can produce something NOT equivalent to nails on a chalkboard.
Santi has always been a movement. The album tends to always correlate with any emotion I deeply feel. If I’m somber, hyper, or aggravated I have songs to match that and let me vent (just as long as I’m in front of a mirror).

With William Beckett still as my desktop background since September 10, I continue to listen to TAI…’s songs daily. Bill’s soothing vocals do just the trick when something traumatic yet seemingly right happens.

MY COLLEGE LIFE
I feel as if I should be crying or truly upset with the band’s decision. I think I just know that I’m not in 7th grade anymore. I’m getting older and things change with time. As I stated, it was no shock, but it is strange to think there won’t be any more shows for me to vent at (like the recent and needed 9/9/11 show did for me).
After informing a good friend on the ‘tragic’ news, she reminded me that The Academy Is… was the main reason we became friends to begin with. She responded to the news and to me with TAI…’s first album’s words: The writers weren’t kidding, but the good things will live in our hearts.

FBR15 Review (Exclusively TAI…)

Everyone has those moments where they fall into a deep hole. Sometimes it’s just a bad day. For me, this year was a hard-working summer, barely having any fun like past summers. Never getting to see friends nor staying up late, I felt so alone.

The mentioned William Beckett desktop background

Then suddenly your iPod is on shuffle and you hear an old song that used to be one of your favorite jams. You get so engulfed in this old song, you actually feel young again, even if it were just 3 years ago–after all, you’ve come a long way since then. This song is playing, somehow it’s on repeat, you’re singing in the mirror as if you wrote the lyrics yourself.

“Attention! Attention!” are charismatically sung into my ears each time I open my new MacBook Pro. It’s the slicked-back, volumized hair, famously bandana’d knee, and gaped mouth William Beckett that is so lively as my desktop background. I see this background picture and I hear the song so clean and clear in my head–or am I back at the show?

He and the rest of his band, The Academy Is…, is starting to come back in action after their first show in what felt like a long hiatus at the Fueled By Ramen 15 show. Having last witnessed them in live concert in ’08, hearing their debut album “Almost Here” live front to back was just the kick I needed.

The Academy Is… truly has the gift of making me feel young again. My desktop background has the power of bringing me back to Terminal 5 on September 9, 2011, thoroughly into William’s words, Sisky Business’ bass lines, Mike Carden’s simpler rock positions, new guy Jaimie’s hair, and The Butcher’s final TAI… show. Kudos to Alternative Press’ photographer, because his/her art of William has plastered me in something so deep that I instantly open up my iTunes just to start off listening to, “Attention” yet again.

I think TAI… was more of a movement and something new for me when I started listening to them in 2006. Since then, it has been apparent that they’ve lost contact with their fans a tad. Thankfully there’s Twitter and fan pages that keep them connected, but without social media, the band has been alone and shut off, because there hasn’t been a show in….what, years? Sure feels like it.

It was smart of TAI… to decide to play “Almost Here” front to back, it was much needed from fans. Plus, this decision was well directed for the 15th Anniversary of FBR; the whole entire night seemed to have taken a step back in time, it was a good reminisce for the crowd, creators, operators, and performers.

Even as I close out FireFox and stare at the true art that represents not only good photography, but a perfectly memorized and mesmerized night, I remember my place at The Academy Is…’s show. Whether it was my first TAI… show in ’06, their latest FBR15 performance, a TAITV episode, or a music video, I am instantly back in that time and place, knowing and feeling how great of a show TAI… can truly put on.
It’s lucky to be so talented, but it’s a gift to be able to manipulate time and place for a fan.

MY COLLEGE LIFE:
Timeline: 
Approx. 2006/2007: Begun listening to TAI…
2008: 15 year old; one of the last few members of MySpace as its slow regression begins; thoroughly loved TAI…, watched TAITV weekly; ambitions: to become invested in the music industry or in a university; driving; older; cooler; starting to listen to heavier music
2009-2010: still enjoy TAI… but no longer a favorite, where have they gone? Fast Times At Barrington High was cool and all, but c’mon, I’m naming my child after the album Santi and everything the name stands for.
2011: Not fun summer; falling back into music roots, away from heavier music; going to a local community college; discovered I’ve always truly wanted to be a writer; don’t know where I’m going; It’s okay though; I’m fine; even without a license

MORAL: So I may not be where I thought I would be 3 years ago. And I’m fine with that. But despite all of the changes, my love of TAI… has returned, and so have all of my good memories of them, because they’re so memorable and fantastic. Highly recommend them, always.