This is so freakin late.
I planned on making a vlog but life happened and now I’m rushing a written post.
Harrah’s Stir Concert Cove: my girl Teri and I show up with enough time
to stuff our face with fries and cookies. Whilst grubbing Teri looks up and asks if the guy walking past us is the front man for the opening band, Leogun. I turned around and saw the front man of Leogun. So I told her yes, it was the frontman of Leogun. I couldn’t think of anything cool to say, and due to the chicken fingers and fries I was still choking down I knew I couldn’t pull off a British accent so I said the first thing that came to mind: “See ya later!”. He paused, looked around, found that the voice had come from two black girls and obviously confused asked “Are you going to the show?”. And since I’m so very quippy and cute I said “What?” and he said “The show?” and I said “Oh yeah. Yeah!”. Solid. We head down towards the stage and before the roadies even began sound check people were boozing and token up.
Leogun was dope. I wish that I could amaze you with insightful comparisons to obscure but noteworthy bands or wow you with a beautiful, descriptive metaphor that captures the essence of the sound – but I can’t. (I’m terribly sorry. I hope this doesn’t ruin our Twitter friendship. Love you mates.) Anyone might think of Wolfmother when first hearing these guys, but I feel the comparison isn’t even fair. They hit hard and still lay each song down with enough soul to make this girl move. Basically they rock and not only did they do a wonderful job as opener – getting everybody hyped for the headliner – but I was completely sold. I will be following this band.
Then more waiting MORE WAITING! But unlike the long wait for the album’s debut in June I couldn’t take to Twitter and annoy the crap outta QOTSA until I got a response to tide my impatience (I lied. I tweeted the whole freakin time until they hit the stage).
QOTSA was everything. This was, after all, my very first rock concert and as one of the five minorities in the area (yes five. I counted. I always count) I was a bit nervous. I danced the whole time and despite the three lines of tall guys ahead of me I still got a clear shot at Homme himself. When a mosh pit began to form two amazing gents behind us protected us from swinging arms and kept us standing upright (no clue who you are but God bless man. God bless.) No one could protect me, however, from the old man that tapped me on the shoulder and drunkenly whispered (booze still in hand) “Iiiiiiii laaaahf…your natural haaaaair.” He then reached out to cop a feel of my blown out fro (pick adorned too, I can’t blame him) and I dodged what I imagined to be a very sweaty, clammy hand and said “Thank you.” (I did give him a smile. It was pretty funny…I might have missed out on the best Vine ever…).
The guys were everything. The set list was everything. The lights were everything. Homme’s ad-libbed line about Iowa’s “badass” cornfields was hilarious – because they are not. But I appreciate his efforts to reach out to us corn folk (…and cow folk).
Then we trekked back to the parking lot and blasted Eagles of Death Metal (Teri hadn’t heard them yet so I HAD TO!) and we whined about how bad our backs hurt. (Seriously ladies – white ladies predominantly at rock concerts – how are you still standing after all that? Stupid boobs.)
My only regret is that I could only see Van Leeuwen from the shoulders up. Who knows what sharp outfit he was rocking that night??? (Oh Google…)
The next morning I got up for work and answered costumers questions a bit too loudly due to ringing ears.
Until next time ladies.
For now viewers, get some: