Mama Mosh Pit
Today’s Brew: Woodchuck Pear Cider
Can ya’ll believe I was a Nine Inch Nails virgin until Friday night? That was unacceptable in my book. (I also never saw Marilyn Manson until June. I should really have my rocker girl card pulled. Actually, just kidding. I’ll do better, I promise.)
Here are the reasons I’d never seen NIN before:
- My friends all went to see them play in a tiny club before Pretty Hate Machine broke, but I couldn’t go, because I wasn’t 18. Don’t think I didn’t consider it. But if my mission failed, it was going to be a long hard night on the sidewalk. Oh, shush. All of you.
- Another set of friends went to see the NIN/Marilyn Manson tour but I couldn’t ask for the night off from Chadwick’s of Boston. Getting yelled at about backordered business clothes was so much better than a show. This is why I work for myself now, people.
I know, all pretty lame. But now that I have my new partner in ill advised adventure, Liz, all lameness is off. And Liz’s favorite band just happens to be Nine Inch Nails. She even went as far as to describe Trent Reznor as “her Tristan.” I swooned for all the wrong (or maybe right) reasons. Trent and Tristan have a lot in common. If Trent wasn’t sober now, they could totally have some Venom and hang. At least I know if Tristan was ever going to get old, he’d still be awesome.
Liz wanted to be up at the front. Now, you’ve probably done the math on my concert going history. I’m old. The idea of being possibly caught in a mosh didn’t thrill me, but Liz does things like go to Jersey on a whim to see my bands, so I sucked it up. After all, everyone else going to the show was probably old too. Do people still even mosh? I was about to find out.
Obviously, I left my party clothes at home, but I had to do something cute! So I went pinup with my hair and pinned it up in victory rolls, and a flower just in case nobody got what I was going for.
To Liz’s dismay, we didn’t make it to the rail, but we were pretty damn close. Everyone around us was really chill and fun to talk to. For some reason, there were a ton of Canadians in the crowd. Did Trent Reznor get his passport revoked or something? Dude, you are loved north of the border. Go play for them.
Then the roid ragey frat boys showed up. Brandishing open wounds.
Moshing was cool when it was actually a punk thing. When drunk college boys used it as an excuse to hit people and piss in a crowd, it was just as over as Miley wagging her tongue all over god knows what.
The girl next to me tried and failed to get this jerk out of her face, so of course, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I just had to tell him how uncouth I found him and nasty bleeding elbow. I called him an asshole, he called me a poser and told me I wouldn’t make it 5 minutes into the show.
Please explain to me: why am I a poser? Because I’m a female, because I wasn’t all gothed out (in fact, I was the ONE wearing pink), or because I thought he was being a jerk? What does any of this have to do with my taste in music?
Most arenas now have this nice little number you can text if someone is acting like an asshat during a game or show. So after I smoothed everything over with Chris (yes, we intoduced ourselves), I had his ass tossed out by security before Trent darkened the stage.
The lesson: Don’t fuck with me, frat boys.
Finally, Nine Inch Nails came on! And yes, people still mosh! I was so close to complete strangers I could feel the inner workings of their bodies. I was covered in other people’s sweat. One of my victory rolls might have been dislodged by a boot. But, frat boys, since none of you made it up front til the end of the show, just letting you know, I did. *winks*
And for those who stuck around with me, I was like the mosh pit mama. I moved people’s hair so I didn’t pull it, I moved people around so they’d be with their friends, and smoothed out disagreements. Everyone loved it. No one really loves getting pushed around. Like I said earlier, now it’s just a bunch of drunken assholes acting like drunken assholes. You can dance and have fun without being an asshole. Sorry I keep using the word, but that’s what they are. Assholes.
The lighting was the most impressive part of the show. Liz had mentioned it many times, but I didn’t know how it could be different that other concerts. Yeah, I’m dumb. It was awesome. Sometimes I realized I was watching the lights and not the band. Trent sounds just like he does on the CDs and the band was tight. There’s this guitarist, Josh, who was smokin’ hot.
I took the train into the city, but Liz had to drive me back to my car. After 2 hours in that crowd, I’d looked like I’d been doing something very different. I couldn’t be riding public transportation looking like that. A sign of an excellent outing.