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The Warehouse
October 24, 2000
La Crosse, WI
Jeanna
October 24th, 2000 is a day that will go down as one of the best days of my young life. The day started out as any other Tuesday would. Which means that the day started out as a wash, but the promise of a great concert seemed to be able to salvage the day. I began my day around 8:45am by heading out to my 9:30am English Literature class, and as much as I love literature I couldn’t bear the thought of being in class today. I followed English Lit with an 11:00am mathematics course, and if that wasn’t enough for my spine tingling day I had an hour and a half long philosophy class to look forward to. I finished off my day with a ripping good meeting of hall council. It was nearly 5:00 before I was freed from campus, and I was able to begin my journey to see the Marvelous 3.
I spent the next two hours in my car, dodging deer, and trying to avoid falling asleep at the wheel by screaming along to the radio. Let me clear up a few things first, I live in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Most of the drive from Eau Claire to La Crosse is country roads, and there are lots of deer. They might be pretty to look at, but not when you’ve annihilated one of them with your car. Trust me. Anyway, back to my car. I spent two hours screaming along to my radio. This was agony. I’ll explain. Every radio station up here that comes in fairly reasonable is a Top 40 station. I spent and hour and a half listening to Creed, Britney Spears, and Jennifer Lopez. I have found out what my own personal hell is. Why didn’t I put a tape in, you might ask. Well, my tape player is jammed with a Rick Springfield tape. You can only listen to "Jessie’s Girl" so many times before you go insane. I think that they use methods of torture to get terrorists to confess to crimes. I kept going because I knew something better awaited me. That’s right…the Marvelous 3!
My arrival in the city of La Crosse, Wisconsin went unheralded, not even my parents showed up. There was no parade or anything, so you can imagine that I was rather disappointed. Upon my arrival I discovered that the venue had been changed at the last minute, and the concert would be held at a smaller club down the street from the original venue, the Hollywood Theatre. A small line for the concert was forming in front of The Warehouse, which is by the way a great club located in downtown La Crosse. The small crowd began to grow, both in size and impatience, as time progressed. A rumor began to circulate through the crowd that the show would be delayed for at least a half-hour perhaps even longer. (I add this as a side note for concert promoters: Don’t piss off a large group of teenagers. Its not pretty.) Thirty minutes went by, then an hour and by now a great deal of grumbling was rising from the crowd like the stench of rotting garbage on a hot day.
While outside on the corner Pearl Street we could hear sound checks going on inside, and each time a power chord was released the crowd would calm. They calmed only because we saw it as a sign that the doors would open soon. The anticipation created by each chord blanketed the crowd, and made us immune to the boredom and restlessness that was beginning to consume our minds. Some knew what was about to infect our very souls, but others of us, like myself, were unaware of what was about to overcome us. After nearly an hour and forty-five minutes we were allowed into the club, and we climbed the stairs to our face our liberation.
This was the first time that I really surveyed the crowd. After all, I didn’t get much of a chance to do it when I was standing in line. I got to the club fairly early, and did not get to see much of the people behind me in line. I saw your old standards for concert-goers. There were your typical pretty girls, who dress in attire that is not befitting a rock concert, and fight to get to the front of the crowd so they can impress the boys in the band. Then you have your stereotypical pissed off teenagers, who wear all black and have dog collars that most people would need to weight train to wear. I still haven’t figured out how these kids stand up. There are also the pissed off, drunk jocks that come to the concert not because they appreciate the music, but because they want an excuse to beat up the stereotypical pissed off teenagers that wear dog collars. Where do I fit in? I am a tomboy, so I went in sensible concert attire…that’s right jeans and a T-shirt, and sneakers with good tread on them. I’m somewhat sensible at least when it comes to concerts. Anything could happen at a concert, and at this one it did.
The opening band A hit the stage, and all hell broke loose. The moshing began, and the pent up energy exploded. All the build up tension came pouring out of the audience as A beat us over the head with their tongue and cheek lyrics. These boys from overseas proved that they did know how to please what had the potential to become an angry mob. After a quick set change it was on to the next band, Dynamite Hack. They played their radio hit "Boyz-n-the-Hood," and other songs off their debut album Superfast such as "Switcheroo" and "A Slice of Heaven." By now the audience, myself included, was ready the Marvelous 3. We were all set to go, and we merely awaited their presence.
Butch, Jayce, Slug, and special guest JJ hit the stage with a vengeance. I thought that the crowd could not get any louder, more volatile (but in a good way), or rowdy, but damn I was wrong. Oh I was terribly wrong. The heat, the density of people in this small space, and the electricity in the air only sped up the adrenaline in the system.
I finally abandoned all common sense and joined in the raucous mosh pit. It was fabulous, and I was now in the middle of it all. I didn’t care if I was hot anymore, and I didn’t care about anyone getting too close to me. The only thing that I was fixated on was the band and the music. The music was all that really mattered to me after the band hit the stage. The words, and the message. That’s all that really made any sense. Me in a mosh pit didn’t make sense, but the reason I was there did. I was liberated. I could go up against all of these men, and I can enjoy it to the fullest. I’m sure that this concert was the only time that I have been that near so many hot, sweaty men in my life. More than that though, it was the first time that such a diverse crowd of people lovingly beat the hell out of me. Where else could I actually not care that some kid wearing a dog collar had run into me, and punctured the hell out of my arm? I didn’t care.
I was too busy watching Butch put himself out there for all of us to see. The same goes for Jayce, Slug, and JJ. They played the hits, but then they really showed their rock attitude by playing what isn’t politically correct. The uninhibited rebellion against political correctness makes them attractive, and makes them a great rock band. I can truthfully say this was the first concert I’ve been to where I really thought that the performers were giving a 150%. I’ve never felt that way before.
So, the two-hour drive was worth it, and did more than just redeem a crappy day. I really did get something out of this concert. I haven’t completely figured out what it is yet, but when I do I’ll let you know. But, where else but at a Marvelous 3 concert was I going to have that much fun moshing to "Always Something There To Remind Me," and "Bohemian Rhapsody" on a Tuesday night? I’ll tell you where…no where. The band makes you feel like you, the crowd, are the most important thing in the world at the time, and nothing else matters.
The show ended, but the memories still linger for me. The small scar on my arm is still there, and as long as I remember how I got it I’ll remember the message I got that night. The Marvelous 3 delivered an important message that night, but if you missed it I definitely encourage you to pick up an album and listen. Not hear the music, but listen to the words and music that accompanies the message. The message is there…all you need to do is listen.
If you get a chance to see Marvelous 3 in concert I highly suggest you do so. You will NOT be disappointed. I know I wasn’t, and I’m a pretty tough critic of today’s music. I’m sorry, but Britney Spears is not, and never will be music in my book.
Thanks.
Jeanna