So I went to a pop-punk show, The Glamour Kills Tour, two weeks back. I believe it was about two weeks back; I know I’ve been lazy and neglected to write about it. But hey (!) life is rather difficult when you work two jobs and consistently drinking all the time because I’m a product of a jobless post-grad world and there is always something fun to do in San Francisco. Well anyways, after attending TGKT, I thought (or even while still at the show) that maybe I might be getting a little too old for pop-punk shows.
I’m writing this in this blog because I don’t think this is going to be much of a music and show review as much as me complaining about how I’m getting old.
The show was held at Slim’s, a commonly used venue for all types of rock music. The last time I was there, I saw Four Year Strong. And that was a good, sweaty, moshed filled show.
To explain it would be actually pretty simple, it’s like punk music, but poppy. And the girls, which was one of the reasons why I really got into pop-punk in high school, besides me going through this sad self-loathing “emo” phase, kinda dress like actual punk-girls, but with more upkeep and make-up. They’re kinda like if a preppy girl combined with a punk girl, creating a product of hotness!!!
Prior to going into this, I knew that night was going to be filled with young tweens, mostly girls and some guys. Although, some of the guys were also wearing tight skinny jeans, with their hair also long, which resemble feminine characteristics. I don’t know or how to explain the style, but looking back at it now, I can say, who once was teenager who went through that phase, we all have baggage.
But anyways, I knew there were going to be young tweens at the show. I thought, “it’s a Monday, a school night. How bad could it be?” To my surprised, the show sold out and the tweens were out in herds, ready for a night of loud and angry and jumpily and emotional teenager drama music.
I know my friends always joke about me gunning for younger girls because I’m in a fraternity and still work at Abercrombie, but this was too much. I was surprised at what some of the girls were wearing. Now I believe that a girl can wear whatever she wants, but see this through the eyes of a future father, I was concerned.
It was that moment that my mind clicked, grinding its gears, churning the brain cells that I have left after the damage of Hurricane College; I realized that I’m getting old, and this might be one of those moments where I shouldn’t be at (unless I was escorting my well clothed daughter of course).
Back when I was young, these girls would have been my Muse and the boys my friends amigos. But then and there, I played the role of an awkward father who didn’t know what he was taking his daughter to.
Thank God that I had my friend Ivette there. She was actually the one who wanted to go, not I. But seeing how the bands Cartel and Mayday Parade got me through some tough depressing high school drama Bullsh*t of my life, I decided to accompany her. This of course gave me the “Get-out-of-jail-from-being-that-creepy-older-guy-at-a-pop-punk-show.”
Once I got my cold shivering body through the venue entrance, I did what every normal of-age adult would do at a tween gathering, HEAD STRAIGHT TO THE BAR! Luckily the beers weren’t too expensive, six bucks. I’ve been going to the Fillmore and their beers are nine.
After the first beer was gone, I fuckin’ pounded a second one, just to make sure the shame and creepy feeling of being at a pop-punk show (where I only like and not love the headlining band) would go away. Or at least numb me over a little.
I mean aside from being around teenagers that night, because all the older kids like me who also like pop-punk have real jobs after college unlike I, the bands were pretty good. I was mainly there for Cartel and Mayday Parade. I’ve never heard of Stages & Stereo and Man Overboard, but they were good.
I have NOT been keeping up with these bands. And I know they have grown as musicians, creating new forms of art in the form of music, but I just hoped to God that they play their old stuff. The little 16 year old tween inside me wanted to hear “Honestly” and “Say Anything Else” by Cartel and “Jamie All Over” and “Miserable At Best” by Mayday Parade.
Well, ask and you shall receive!
Cartel and Mayday Parade thankfully played the only four songs that I willingly paid 25 bucks for. Everything else was just a test from God, nay, a trial of my faith, to ensure that I was the chosen one to hear the sweet sound of emotional teen rock.
Here is a video of Cartels “Honestly” from that night:
This video is Mayday Parades “Miserable at Best.” This song, along with All Time Lows “Remembering Sunday,” was on my break-up playlist years ago when this girl (stupid b*tch, I know) broke my naive Asian heart. Ask my friend Jose, he will tell you what a sad sack of shit I was.
Oh my heart felt those young love pains at that moment. Them feels.
After the show was over and it was all said and done, I grabbed my friend and got the fuck out of there before some father mistook me for a creepy college dude who’s trying to bang-out their daughter.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not making fun of pop-punk . . . well maybe a little. But this was just one of those things where I realize that I now have to pick and chose what I attend to. Whether it be an underground rave or some rock show, I will now have feelings of displacement during some events because of my age and that stage of “growing up.” (Post-grad problems again) If you love the music, then keep going. I’m not advising you not to. Hell, I’m pretty sure this won’t be my last pop-punk show because I still want to see Forever the Sickest Kids. See, there is still a little emo-Asian boy inside me.
Now this doesn’t mean that I’m gonna buy a three-piece-suit and go on a wine-and-cheese escapade, I’m just saying maybe my Monday nights are better spend working on my fiction and hanging out with girls around my age . . . or at least girls who are 18 with a fake ID.