If you would have asked me when I was a teenager what I loved most in the world there would have been one clear answer. Music. I was a music kid, not in the sense that I was talented in making music, no matter how hard I tried. I was a gourmand. That new MxPx album that was released on Tuesday, I already downloaded it on KaZaa. The feature about Queens of the Stone Age in Rolling Stone, well written, but I can’t get behind their reinvention every album. Did you hear that Better Than Ezra is playing at Northern Lights, psssh I already have tickets*. I was the informed connoisseur, everything from Bad Sabbath to Blink 182, The Bosstones to the Tijuana Brass, Jay Z to Jello Biafra I knew it all. I loved music, I loved listening to music, I loved illegally downloading music, I loved live music, I loved talking about music, I was insufferable.
But looking back, I think I was in love with the identity as a music nerd than I was with the music. It was a definition of my personality, a way for a socially awkward lonely misfit to carve out a niche. I was able to pull from wherever on the musical spectrum and connect with other weirdos about whatever music they felt passionate about. Once I got my drivers license I was off to the races, going to shows whenever I could, engaging with live music and feeling part of a crowd, ticking off boxes and making lists of band that I have seen in concert that I still reference today. If I have to guess I’ve seen about a thousand bands live in concert, a vast majority between the ages of 16 and 20. And I’m not shy about dropping references to seeing Evanescence at the KRock-a-thon at Vernon Downs in the summer of 2003, or Blue Oyster Cult at halftime of an Albany Firebirds Arena Football game in 2004. And no, BOC does not have a dedicated cowbell player, it’s just on the drum kit, Will Farrell lied to us.
Unfortunately something happened around the time I turned 20 that pulled me away from music. It was’t a single event, more like a combination of factors that came together to make a marked shift in my relation to music. Part of it was naturally growing up, and moving into the harder portion of college, and not having much free time or money. Part of it was the narrowing of my musical tastes, honing in on the few genres that I really enjoyed rather than sampling the smorgasbord of artists that I used to frequent. Plus the goddamn government cracked down on file sharing so now I had to pay for music, which is bullshit. Part of it was finally coming to the realization that I have little to no musical talent and probably shouldn’t waste my time. Coming to the realization that I was a guy who owned a guitar and a bass rather than a guy who played the guitar and bass made a difference. The biggest issue was that I started having chronic headaches that laid me out and kept me from listening most days. It’s hard to feel connected to music if you aren’t listening to it.
To be clear I didn’t cut ties completely. I listened to my fair share of music when I felt up to it, but it was a narrower band. I would occasionally pick up new recommendations from friends, or fall down the rabbit hole on songs I would hear on the radio. By the time I got my first iPod in 2009 I was was locked into the same few dozen artists covering the core music that I enjoyed. I would occasionally catch one of my favorite bands if they happened to be in town on the right night.. and the tickets weren’t too expensive… and I didn’t have to work… and my friends were thinking about going… and mercury was in retrograde… and I liked their newest album… and there weren’t too many opening bands… Obviously I didn’t see many bands live. Some of the ones I did see were for comedic value, from Nickleback to Ted Nugent, my ability to commit to the bit has never been in question.
I have no serious regrets about missing those concerts, or keeping up with bands I used to love, or not exploring much new music for that nearly 15 year period. I was living my life, doing the best I could, and subsisting on a steady stream of music that kept me happy and moving forward. I would occasionally lament losing that passion that I had for music. I would be in a restaurant or a grocery store and a song would come on and I would know every word and chord change but couldn’t tell what the artist or title was. It was like running into your childhood friend and realizing that despite your past history you have nothing tying you together. You need to be grateful for the good times, but realize that there isn’t room for that person in your life right now.
Gradually things started changing. In 2018 a friend recommended the Interrupters, and for the first time in years there was new music that gave me a spark. Once Covid hit and I was locked away from the world I turned to Spotify in order to add some noise to my otherwise empty life, much like I did when I was a kid. When I went through a bad breakup I kinda retreated into some of the music that soothed my should when I was a teenager, and found much to my surprise that the bands I loved then have the audacity to still be making new music, and some of it actually slaps. Eventually I started looking into new bands and songs that sparked my interest, and using the algorithms to expand my scope. Spotify might be terrible for artists, but paying $11 a month instead of filling my parent’s Gateway with viruses from Limewire is a fair trade.
Goose got us tickets, his wife Jenel couldn’t make it, so Pete joined us, he wasn’t doing much else on a gloomy Sunday evening in April. I had been excited for the show for months, less than 100 tickets available at a small venue, kinda a townie bar with a pool table where I used to do storytelling shows. I had seen Big D and the Kid’s table at least twice before, and they had canceled on me at least twice before that, I knew every one of their songs by heart, even from the Stomp/Stroll double album that really didn’t do anything for me. Their opening band was called Millington, a brass emo 6 piece band from Albany, that because of their fun and unique sound are going to be my top artist on my wrapped for this year. For the first time in years I was excited for a concert.
We were sitting by the window to the street and the band set up their merch table in front of us, so we joked with them about selling shirts when they were on stage. They were good sports and almost agreed to our price of 2 PBRs per hour. It was fun and easy, $25 tickets, not crowded, an old favorite band, a new favorite band, standing between two guys I have known since all three of us had hair, a few beers deep, with work not until 10am the next day, I don’t know about mercury, but the stars definitely aligned. Millington took the stage and the opening bars washed over me like a sonic wave, wrapping me in a warm blanket of music, kicking up my heartbeat while enveloped in the beautiful melange of ska sound, it made me want to dance. Big D put on a full on performance, playing some of the deep cuts that I love so much and have never seen played live. I know the rule, if you know the words you’re obligated to sing along, and I knew all the words. Yeah my back hurt, and my ears rang, and my voice was hoarse, but by the time I got home I felt something that I haven’t felt in a while. I felt like I was in love with music.
I’m a 40 year old man, but my younger coworkers trade band suggestions with me. My Instagram stories have gotten pretty out there by posting blurry concert photos, and song links. I’ve been to 6 concerts in the past 22 days. Gypsy Punk, Parodies, Brass Emo, 90’s Hip Hop, 80s Punk, and The World’s Best Cover Band. The opening bands have ranged from world- reggae to sonic noise rock, to for some reason a clown. I didn’t love every minute of it, I’m still working on getting my ear plug game dialed in, and I’m achy in my neck, back, and various other parts of my anatomy. But for the first time in a long time I feel energized by seeing show posters. I can rail against Ticketmaster fees, but I’m actually willing to pay them. I will constantly reminiscence about the days when I would have been in the front row or holding down the edges of the pit, while standing in the back drinking an IPA out of a paper cup. I will never be able to go back to the level of passion that I had as a teenager, but also have no urge to. I like this, it feels comfortable and fun. It is a way to connect with strangers who are also singing along to all the words, and to have something to look forward to with my friends. It feels like a more adult type of love, rather than the hurricane of teenage love it is the comfortable and steady rain of middle aged contentment. I’m here for it.
*I did not see Better Than Ezra in concert, I paid $13 and had a physical ticket in the Winter of 2003, but I was feeling sick that Sunday night and it might have been Regent’s Exam week, and my parents convinced me not to go. It’s silly to say, but for some reason missing this concert has been one of my biggest regrets in life, and I think of it every time I hear “Good” playing on the Muzak a the grocery store.
Owen Foley 