Now, on to my little riff here. Last Saturday, September 20th (a long time ago, I know), I was fortunate enough to be in attendance for a ridiculous concert at the Electric Factory, featuring none other than the Mars Volta. The last time this group played in Philly was at the TLA, a venue on South Street that sells out good shows immediately, without fail.
Naturally, I was intensely excited to have a ticket to see this heavy, crazy, louder-than-I-usually-tolerate band, whose concerts had been talked up significantly to me by my roommate, Ian. He'd turned me on to their music, which I've been listening to religiously for almost the last year or so.And their performance was everything I'd hoped it would be, featuring a handful of their best songs (all of which have impossible names to remember, like "Viscera Eyes" and "Meccamputecture"). I was enjoying the show extremely - I was in a very good place for about the first half of the show.
Then, all of a sudden, three fucking morons come smashing forward through the crowd, leaping and pushing and smashing and disturbing a whole section of concert-goers.
Moshers. Those motherfuckers. You can't yell at them to stop pushing you, because they're not going to do it. You can't push them back, because it just encourages them. But we were a full 100 feet from the stage, and these assholes had to stop directly next to me for their little piss-me-off fest. Well, it fucking worked, and I stormed outside in a fit of rage to inhale a cigarette.
Once I came back in and found my company, we watched from further to the rear, never getting back into the good spot we'd been in, both physically and mentally. A big fucking bummer it what it was.
To those people who ruined my Mars Volta experience, I say, grow the fuck up. Nobody pays $50 a ticket to have a bunch of lugheads push you all over the floor.
Off to work. Later.