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(this is told from the point of view of a lady who went to see Crash Kings, and ended up a big fan of JET- Also be warned I use some "unladylike" terms! - m)

This was a surprisingly excellent show by 3 really good bands. I had way more fun than I imagined I would.

1852
Arrival at the venue...
There's a short line of maybe 30 people, waiting for the doors to open. I get to people watch for a bit, and it was almost like a trip to the zoo. Strange, fascinating things abound. Lots of "Trailer Trash Diva" style; hooker heels, bleach blonde hair, and inappropriate miniskirts on all the wrong bodies. Me? My usual rock and roll look- frayed jeans, black t-shirt, Doc Martens, and my tattoo and nosering. What else do you need? Those girls were all gussied up to show everyone how pretty they were; I know I'm not only fucking gorgeous, but I'm also extremely cool. My insecurities faded years ago. Heh. I'm a jaded old bitch, I know. Or am I just conceited?

Next: the local radio station (103? something like that) has a girl out taking photos of the fans holding a station bumper sticker. She says she's shooting them for the web page, and I tell her that's groovy because I'm from out of town. Where? Kansas City. She actually asked, "You're by yourself?" My friends, yet again I am faced with an exceptionally observant individual. Many, many replies could have been given. My choice would have been, "No, my invisible posse is right over there, next to my invisible limo....OF COURSE I'M ALL BY MYSELF!!!!". But I was cool, because I am that way. I replied, "Yeah". Her response? A pitying, "Well sometimes it's better that way." Honey love, you came real close to getting that camera shoved in a relatively uncomfortable place. Thanks for your unneeded "pity", you silly litte twit. I let it slide, because I'm just cool like that. Where the hell am I again? The Twilight Zone.

Eventually, the doors are opened. It's hot down South here, so I have my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, revealing my new ink. It's a shamrock with the words "Boston Irish" around it. I am from Boston, I am of Irish descent. Makes sense. It's on my right inner forearm. As I go into the venue, I hand over my ticket, then show my ID to the security dude, young, tough, and muscular. And here comes the first question. "That a new tat?" Yeah. "How'd it feel getting it right there?" I'm not entirely sure what kind of response he was looking for, but I'm guessing he was expecting me to giggle and say "Oh, it hurt sooo bad!!!" Hee hee! Umm...I am not like that. This tattoo didn't really hurt at all, I told him. The piece I have on my leg was a bitch. He looks at me like I either have brass balls, I'm lying, or I'm out of my mind. Hint- vote for option #3, kid. I'm probably tougher than you are, anyway.
Next!! Another rocket scientist. A second security kid actually asks me, "Are you from Boston?" Yes, I really got asked this. My sarcasm was being severely tested, and I'm not even in the freaking club yet!!! I almost bite my tongue in half so as to not be an asshole and say, "No, I just thought it would be cool to have this placed on my arm forever...YES I AM FROM BOSTON YOU MORON!!!" As I have said, though, I am cool. Yes, I am from Boston, you can tell by my rad accent, right?, I say, (joking; anyone who knows me knows I don't have one. I actually have a very slight one that comes foreward when I drink). He laughs, said he'd been to Boston a couple of times and liked it. "Greatest City on the planet" I tell him. Thank God, I'm in, and haven't had any problems yet.

I get a wristband, even though I'm not gonna drink. Why? Dunno. So I go to the bar and ask for my usual, a club soda with lime. "We only have tonic, not club soda". Oh. Well, I'll have a Sprite. For 2 bucks, I get an 8oz plastic cup filled with ice and an afterthought of Sprite. Yay. Why don't I just give you the debit card and my pin number if you're gonna rob me blind. I pay less in Kansas City for a bigger cup. Unreal.

Down the ramp and towards the stage barricade, I go, Hi ho!

On the venue website, i could swear they say this place holds 650 people. This is a gross overstatement. Even if the people were five year olds standing on each others shoulders, this dive wouldn't hold 650 people. I say about 350 at max capacity, and that would be rather uncomfortable. There are about 200 people here (give or take). And they have the load-in doors blocked so the fans can't get back there, which I totally get. However, I don't see another fire exit, except for the entrance. This place is a fire trap. Oh joy. Sometimes I hate being observant; I notice too much of the bad, and blissful ignorance escapes me. Well, who cares, I saunter up to my rightful place, right on the rail, a touch to stage right where I see Tony's piano in the back. I missed a lot of photo ops of him in Omaha, and I'd like to get some goodies this time. Kewl. Next to me are a couple of college guys; one from Arizona, the other from Australia. We end up chatting a bit; nice dudes. JET is really heavy stuff in Australia, so he is totally stoked for the show. I tell them I am here for Crash Kings, JET is just a secondary treat. They ask about the music, so of course, I preach The Gospel of Crash Kings to them. Groovy. Then a girl shows up; I peg her to be about 19. Dressed in "Hot Topic pseudo-goth-but-we're-ripping-off-you-old-genX-bastards-and-calling-it-emo". (heh) She informs me that she is from Hiawatha, KS. I know where that is, so we chat. She's in the Air Force, but is getting kicked out because she has asthma. She makes this point several times during the evening. So from here on, because I am a lazy typist, I will call her Little Miss Air Force, or LMAF. It's easier for me, so sue me.
LMAF talks at me for a bit; she tells me her mom is "like her best friend" and that I remind her of her mom. Yes, please just kill me. Thanks oh so much. I just nod, trying to think of how I can escape this while maintaining my right of position at the stage; it's futile, so I am stuck with a new pal. Eventually, she informs me that her boyfriend is sitting back in the seats; she'll be back. Now I'm from major cities. If you leave your prime front row real estate, don't expect to get it back. I wasn't asked to hold her spot, so another girl (whom I will call "Blondie") slips in. A few minutes later, LMAF returns, and almost shoves Blondie aside. Blondie says in a voice loud enough for me to hear, "You better watch yourself". LMAF turns, and I turn also, but for a different reason. I'm thinking,"Oh great, these two morons are gonna mix it up, they're gonna accidentally hit me, I'm gonna get pissed and lay both of them out. Then I'm gonna go to jail. Fuck." i could've taken LMAF by weight; I could've taken Blondie with my Doc's, and I could have taken both of them with age and a sordid experienced history. But I'm old, I don't want to do this. Blondie backs down, though; I think it was because I turned at the same time as LMAF, and she thought we were going to tag team. So I convince LMAF to be cool, and she chills. Situation resolved peacefully.

Showtime!!!!

Let me just describe a couple of things before I get to the bands. Firstly, this stage is crammed with so much equipment that it looks doubtful that anyone can play on it. Given the fact that the entire stage is about the size of 6 matchbooks taped together (and please see the photo album for a view of what was under the stage!!), I'm amazed that it hasn't collapsed. Secondly, this building is a geodesic dome; on the inside is a bunch of flat panels at angles to each other....oh no. Acoustic nightmare! Sound is going to bounce off everything in the whole place. Ugh. This place was not meant to be a venue for bands. Seriously, this place is horrible. Oh well, my dolls the Crash Kings are totally worth it.

Kingsdown

Local band from Little Rock; reading up on them before writing this, find out they've been together since about 2002, and it shows. You can tell this band knows what's up...they intro with AC/DC over the PA; "Long Way to the Top" (my fave AC/DC song), and then they come on stage as the lights come up, plug in, and rock. I'm in front of the lead guitarist, I talked to him later, I think he said his name was Johnny; nice kid, sweet Telecaster, and he made her sing. I love the sound of a well played Tele; just one of my sound-freak things. Band is really tight; I watch the guitars sync with each other. Just a hint for you guitar players, some of us ladies who are watching you aren't staring adoringly at you, we're watching how you play. I'm not dreaming about you, I'm examining you, to see if you can play that baby you have. I'm watching how well you and your band follow each other. And these guys just screamed experience. They anticiaped each other's movements, the singer was really a fantastic frontman; I'd really like to see them on a larger stage. I was totally impressed that they could play well in the cramped space they had, but they rocked the crap out of it. Walked on like they owned it, and they did. Nice, original lyrics. Just enough flashy moves without being overkill. Professional. I need a cd, guys; I'm gonna hafta try to get one. They're going to have a new release in June; I hope I can get an older one; I'd like to hear what they sound like in the studio. But they were great. You told me you play Kansas City; come on up, guys. I'll be there.

Breakdown of Kingsdown, set up of Crash Kings

My sweeties! They have no roadies! They are setting up all their own gear! You have no idea how bad I wanted to jump in and help them; it's been a while, but I could've been an extra set of hands. My babes are looking way tired; this tour is kicking the crap out of them, and two weeks after seeing them in Omaha, I can tell. I know that the life of an "up and coming" band is harsh; most bands die here. Which is why I drove 7 hours down here; I am supporting my band, my Boston brothers. When they come through the Midwest, I want them to at least have one crazy fan on the front row, singing their songs and yelling her head off. Because that's just paying them back for their devotion to their music and their dreams. I got the chance to meet them at their headline show in Omaha (see my concert review note, and photo album), and I knew I wasn't gonna get that chance here. So I see Jason, the drummer, start setting up his set (we coulda had that up and mic'd in 2 minutes!), and I yelled his name. He turned, and I blew him a kiss. He laughed. I was glad to give him a chance to smile. Girl's gotta take care of her band. Tony, the pianist, and his brother Mike, the bassist, haul out the piano and set it up. Then Tony plugs all the amps for the clavinet, etc. While he's down close, I ask him how the tour's going. "Okay", was the quiet response with a (shy?) smile. Very cute.
After set up, play commences. I didn't get a set list; but they opened with "You Got Me" (that sick, nasty, sexy bass riff! I love that!), and played the whole cd, replacing "Come Away" with a new one called "Carry On". A real rocker; looking forward to a new cd from these guys! But the show was tight, Jason was playing with a fury; he was killing his skins. Broke 2 sticks, never missed a beat. Just got a new one out of the holder and kept going at it. Monster. Mike rocked the bass, and sang harmony with his brother. Just gave it their all, like they did in Omaha. Tired? Worn out? Didn't matter. Show goes on. Tony played like a dervish, rocking the keys and the clavinet. Got some fantastic pics of him; I missed a lot of pics of him in Omaha because of where I was. Just a fantastic show; wished it was longer. I got to grab Tony's hand after the show and tell him that "the Crash Queens said hello" (this is their all-female Facebook fan club; they know about us); this got a groan, a roll of the eyes, and a laugh. It's an inside joke; I got the same response from both Mike and Tony when I delivered this line in Omaha. So of course, now I'm going to do it every chance I get, because it's funny. But guys, let me tell you; that tour bus is around the corner. I promise; you may not see it, but this old industry hack does. And I am truly enjoying watching your career take off. Your Midwest representative will do her best to give love at your shows, and preach the music to whoever she meets. Ending song was "Mountain Man". Then breakdown of their equipment, load out, and bye bye. I watched as Mike took one last look in the club before he gently closed the door.
At this point, I am tempted to go out back and do the "groupie" thing; however I am hesitant because once you leave this place, they will not let you back in. I did see some people outside chatting them up as they were trying to load out; but I really wanted to see JET, and honestly, I didn't want to bother them.They were tired. They didn't need one more person bugging them for photo ops and smalltalk. Maybe it's my Bostonian roots; don't bother people. Are they awesome rockstars? To me, yes. But they are people, and really road-weary people at that. So I mentally wished them safe travels and left it at that. Why? I'm cool like that.

Intermission, and at this point I'm getting tired of standing. LMAF has shown this unhealthy obsession with collecting guitar pics and autographs, and it's getting a little annoying. I'm tired, too. She keeps obsessing over these pics that are under the stage; generic pics that are laying in filth. Arizona next to me tells her to go get some from Guitar Center (you rocked, kid). She leaves, comes back with a Kingsdown cd that's 'graphed, and some pics. She then proceeds to inform me of 2 things. 1: her boyfriend is going to start a mosh pit for JET (a fucking mosh pit? for JET? Umm...yeah. Please do that at NOFX, not here, you silly twits; wait, don't come to the NOFX show, I'm going), 2: JET is not signing autographs, therefore she is not staying (yay!!!). I inform her that JET are "Rockstars", and they don't do that at shows anymore. It would be chaos. They do planned signings, if that. Or if you catch them outside, etc. I'm just a jaded old lady that's seen I don't know how many bands, Huge, medium, small, and tiny. I just know these things. So I'm kinda hoping she will leave. But at this point, I'm thinking of leaving the front for a seat. Australia (he was a cute kid) was horrified. He looked at me as if I'd confessed to sacrificing babies to Satan on a nightly basis. "For JET?!?!?!?!?" he said. Hmmm...okay kid, you have me convinced. I've liked the couple of songs I've heard, but I wouldn't say I was a fan. But he was so totally stoked, I admit it was intriguing.

JET

Australians. I think this pretty much sums up what I see when they take the stage. More on that in a second. Right now, as they take the stage, I can definitely tell just who the "veteran" band is, and it is JET. Not just because they have about $1,000,000 worth of sweet, sweet Gibsons on the stage; not because they have roadies; they have "presence". Big Time. They own this stage, this is their show, and this is their tour. Not arrogant; just confident and experienced. The elder brothers to the first two bands. Yes, I adore my Crash Kings, but these guys have already paid their dues and earned their tour bus. Already, I am impressed. Also of note, each band member is given 2 bottles of water and 2 bottles of Dos Equis. I give you one guess as to which one was left unopened. Madness.
Back to Australians. I'm not totally familiar with what these guys look like, but I know it's not like this. They all have wigs on; 70's heavy-metal band hair wigs. Okaaaayy...And they're just rocking the crap out of the place. I figure they'll take them off in a bit, just a joke, ha ha...no. The drummer took his off, I think because it was getting in his way (that dude is wild on the skins! And he hits them with sticks roughly the size of tree trunks). I am blown away...he's so young! I honestly thought they'd be older. Maybe they're like me, older than they look. But the wigs stayed on...
Like I said, I liked the songs I'd heard, but wouldn't call myself a fan. Well that has changed; while they were going at it, all I could think of was, "Them Australian boys can play." And they could. The bassist was just fantastic, guitars were sweet; got a good pic of the 3 guitars rockin' out. The drummer was so psycho on his kit that I think he busted a snare head; I saw the tech come out with a spare snare and replace it, so I figure he just blew it out. Like he does it a lot. Did he pause at all? Hell no! Kept on slammin' the kit while it was being repaired. Real smooth performance. All of them knew how to play to the crowd; get up in your face so you can drool over them (I was drooling over the Gibsons!). Even gave a shout out to mister Australia (I think he said he was from Perth); said, "you're a long way from home, brother..."
After the set, they leave, showbiz-style, mugging to the crowd, preening for cheers...fun suff. Drummer throws a tree trunk in either direction; I didn't want to get hit with one of those!
Chanting ensues...JET, JET, JET....
Eventually they return, without wigs, to play 3 encore songs. Really fun. And again, a showbiz exit. These guys have totally won me over. One of the best shows I've seen in a while. Tight, slick, and hilarious. They are seriously badass musicians who don't take themselves seriously. They must be insanely fun to party with. Of course, when you kick it with Australians, you run the risk of waking up three days later with an empty bottle of tequila in one hand, surrounded by kangaroos. And you think, "Wait, wasn't I just in Little Rock?!?!?"

All in all, great show. 3 very well suited bands. 3 very impressive performances. It was over way too soon. Shout out to my new friend, William Kimbrel; fun, wasn't it? I'll definitely go back to Little Rock if the right band plays there. Even if they play "The Village".