All right, so this weekend a friend and I went to see The Musical Box for its recreation of Gabriel-era Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway tour. It’s being touted as the last North American tour for The Lamb, and I was excited to go. I saw the same act earlier this year in Chicago, and it was great.
A friend and I bought tickets to three shows over the weekend (Minneapolis, Milwaukee, and Chicago), and planned to cart ourselves around and have a bit of a vacation. Early this week, we were disappointed to hear that the first show was cancelled, but what can you do? (Of course, we lost our Ticketmaster “convenience” charges, but of course Ticketmaster is evil, so I wasn’t too surprised.)
Friday’s show at the Pabst Theatre in Milwaukee was excellent. We had gotten our tickets early and had great seats in around the fifth row. I could see the stage very well and if we were any closer, we would have probably been obstructed to see the back of the stage during certain numbers. It was fantastic and we really enjoyed it. There was a bit of inane chatter toward the end from some of the more drunk concert-goers, but nothing too horrible.
The next concert was at the House of Blues in Chicago. They had a different venue last year, and we’d never been to the House of Blues, but we were unsuspecting. We kick around the area until our reservations at the House of Blues restauarant at 5. My companion had checked the website and found out that you could “pass the line” if you purchased dinner at their restaurant. Being a general admission show, this sounded like a good plan so we could score some good seats. The dinner was anticlimactic but edible, nothing special, and we got in the no-line line about an hour before the doors opened (around 6:30).
We started chatting with the older couple in front of us and found out that the theatre was standing room only! Of course, this wasn’t advertised, and no other options had been available when we bought our tickets except for General Admission. I pulled out my ticket and, sure enough, “Standing Room”. With several other tickets for the showed, so neither of us had never really looked that close. I was sort of torqued off to be paying $36.50 plus “convenience” charges and fees to stand up for the concert. Also, the concert had been bumped back an hour and a half, with no opening act, so it started at 9pm. Apparently, “sometimes” they put out seats. I would have thought with a group where the median age was probably in their forties, and quite a few older people, that they would have put out seats, so I maintain some hope.
We waited in line and were poked and prodded for security reasons, our IDs were checked, and so on and waited, packed in the “no line” line, until well after the doors were supposed to open. My friend and I were fortunately first in the non-line, so we got in the venue and tried to get a good spot.
Unfortunately, there just didn’t seem to be any good spots! The ground floor had the choice of either standing directly next to the stage (which, for this concert’s visuals, is not a bonus) or waiting around in the center for people to fill in front of us (and I’m not terribly tall). We went up to the second floor and found that the entire front was packed with stools – all “reserved”. Of course, we had no option to buy any of the reserved seats when we bought tickets. We found a few stools behind the reserved seats, near the bar, and staked those out. However, we were sure we’d have a very obstructed view, because the balcony wasn’t slanted at all - completely flat.
From the general grumbling of the audience, we found out that the “reserved” stools were for people who bought a “dinner package” that we didn’t know about. Security came by often to make sure nobody was even leaning on the empty stools. Most of the stools seemed to go empty for the show, too. Even the stools seemed bad seats as they were crammed in very close to each other and people stood directly behind those people (so we couldn’t see the stage).
W waited, of course, past 9pm (the longest hour ever – we were both kind of pissed off, and it was too loud to really talk anyway). I thought about getting one of their horrendously overpriced drinks – the lady next to me paid $14 for a glass of wine – but thought I probably should skip it, since there’s no way I could be drunk enough to be happy, and still be able to help drive back.
Finally, the concert starts. I will say this much – the sound was incredible, much better than the Pabst. Unfortunately, every other possible fucking thing was awful.
1.) The screens: For those of you who aren’t familiar with the show, they use three slide projectors behind the band. There was some sort of netting or something in front of the screens (but behind the band) which visually distorted the slides to the point of not being able to tell what a lot of them were.
2.) The lighting sucked. They were off queue. My companion saw this more, being taller – I couldn’t see well enough to say too much. They don’t turn down the house lights at all for the whole concert.
3.) The view, of course, was obstructed to the point where no amount of shifting would allow me to see the band except for the guitarist – not even when I stood up and got on my tip-toes, and I’m 5’ 7". The vocalist was only visible at the far back of the stage – anywhere close to the front and I couldn’t see him.
4.) Yet, by far the worst part of the whole thing, though, was the audience – they talked very loudly through the whole thing, and about every minute, someone would start shouting over the band! I can understand a little bit of excited chatter but, even during the very loud numbers, they kept shouting over it.
Even worse, they were shouting disparaging comments. About half of the group were actual fans who were interested in the music; the other half were drunken poseurs who apparently didn’t mind paying $40+ for music that they didn’t like, in so long as they were able to ruin it for everyone else.
The table to my immediate left was probably the worst of the group. After the first song or two, they all lost interest and talked as loudly as possible.
During about the fourth song, one of the drunken idiots started shouting “PLAY SOMETHING THAT I KNOW!” Fucking idiot, the concert plays the Lamb Lies Down on Broadway in its entirety; if you don’t like the music, then why are you here?
During The Carpet Crawlers, one of my favorite songs, the same drunken idiot listens enough to get the tune of the chorus and then starts shouting over the band his own personal words to the song, about his small penis or something like that. To be honest, I don’t remember what it was, except for the fact that it was obscene, and I was angry enough to be trembling at this point.
Now, mind you, I am the kind of person that (for right or wrong) does not like to confront others. I’ve never so much as shushed anyone in a movie theater. Generally it’s just not worth it to me. I tried, oh how I tried, to filter these idiots out. I am just not a person that gets very angry very often. However, while my fuse is long, it does end somewhere.
At this point, a woman joins the group (she had apparently wandered off elsewhere for most of the first half). She sits directly next to me in the open stool and starts loudly talking with the man on my right. (They’re both next to me, one slightly forward and one slightly back.) Keep in mind, her mouth is about three inches from my ear. She starts chatting it up with him about oh so how much she loves him, and starts running her fingernails over his back. I can’t hear anything except for her, as she’s talking over the music, “Oh I love you so much honey, so very very much, I wonder why we never go to the House of Blues, I never seem to think about it, but I love you my little bunny rabbit, blah blah blah”. They start being a little more affectionate than is really necessary, bumping into me. I clear my throat extremely loudly and jolt forward. I didn’t even plan this – it just sort of happened, I was frustrated enough. They take this as a cue to move back about two inches and keep talking.
At this point, the gentleman at the table on THEIR right gets up and says “Look, guys, if you just want to talk, why don’t you talk somewhere else? We can’t hear.” This was an older gentleman, and he wasn’t rude. I think to myself, ‘thank you for saying something’.
The whole table seems to intake a sharp breath at once and all start going off on the man. “What the fuck?” says the woman, nearly loud enough to be screaming. “I can talk if I want to! You’re not my boss!” Her male companions start up going “Yeah, fuck off, we’ll talk if we want to”. At this point, I can almost understand – they’re drunk, and they’re falling over each other to show how loyal they are to the rest of the group by defending them.
The point where I start to lose it is the fact that they keep bitching about what a horrible asshole this guy is for over an entire song. These are not short songs – five, ten minutes? I’m not sure. The song is loud enough that I’d have to scream to say anything myself, but I can hear these idiots loud and fucking clear over the song – “He’s not my … uh, teacher, or whatever! What makes him think that he can tell me what to do? What an asshole! Fuck him! That’s fucking ridiculous! Am I wrong?” “No, of course not!” “No, I’m not fucking wrong, fuck him, that asshole, how dare he talk to me that way?”
Finally at this point I am seeing red. I can’t hear the music anymore and I just can’t take it. Finally, during a quiet bit, I turn to the woman and say, “You know, I really don’t mean to be rude, but you guys are talking really loudly, and I paid to see this concert. It would be nice if you could keep it down.”
The woman, of course, turns on me and starts flipping out. “This isn’t a concert! This is a bar! The House of Blues is a bar! I can talk at a bar! I can talk if I fucking want to, anyway! This is a free country! You can’t tell me what to do.”
I probably could have said something a little more factual – like, I typically don’t pay Ticketmaster $40 to get into a bar – but I’m trembling with anger at this point and I just don’t care anymore. “You know what? That’s fine, talk if you fucking want to,” I say, and then turn to face her, “you drunken whore.”
About twenty seconds pass and they don’t say anything. My companion at this point is looking over with concern. I fully expect a violent response, but I just don’t care anymore. The guy starts turning around at me and the woman says, “No, let’s just leave it alone. Let’s not.” Yeah, I guess you’re the bigger person, or whatever. Fucking bitch. I was all ready, too, if he tried to hassle me about it being a free country, to say, “You know, those guys up there are performing for us and they deserve respect. I don’t come to the street corner where your girlfriend is and hassle her.” It’s just burning in my throat, and while I know I will probably suffer for saying it, I want to so very badly. I’m surprised, though, that they backed down.
After about a song, the couple leaves (the rest of the drunken idiots at their table stay). I feel rather edified, but I’m mad enough not to be able to enjoy the concert, because other people (albeit not as close) are still having loud conversations. Heck, two guys have come up to our table while I was messing with Drunk Slobbering Bitch and have started a loud conversation about how they have never heard any of the music before and how weird it is. I’ve missed several of my favorite songs entirely during the episode.
We stay for about two or three more songs. My companion asks if I want to stay, and I say sure, because I know he’s a big fan of the music and I don’t want to ruin him. I can be mad there, or in the car, it doesn’t matter. After a minute or two, he says into my ear, “You know, I’m not enjoying this any more.” That’s all I need to hear. “Let’s go,” I answer.
As we walk out, I notice that the crowd has thinned significantly anyway. We surrender our stools to a grateful looking young man, pay our $20 in parking, and leave the House of Blues forever. As we walk through, I notice how everyplace seems to be just as loud with the talking. I didn’t just accidentally sit in the drunken retard section. I must imagine that the band can hear the shouting and carrying on, especially during the quiet numbers, and I’m embarassed for them.
So, to summarize, fuck you, House of Blues. Fuck you for screwing us out of having a good dinner at a good restaurant and fooling us out of our money. Fuck you for screwing your customers in every way possible by having the least patron-friendly venue ever. Fuck you for not giving me just a little place to be, while I enjoy the music and the show, and can see what’s going on without standing up for five hours straight. Fuck you for hassling the old ladies in the line and carding 60 year old men. Fuck your idiot boorish customers who apparently don’t mind throwing their money away in order to ruin the experience of others. Fuck you for destroying an excellent act. Fuck your security staff who are intensely concerned with defending the $40 stools that obstructed the whole rest of the balcony section, but not at all concerned with people screaming over the words constantly. Fuck your crappy restaurant with no vegetarian entree and fuck your tacked on corporate fake-folksy decor. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and may anyone associated with this establishment be forced to sit next to all the drunken idiots that patronize your venue for eternity while they make stupid editorial comments to the demons that are sodomizing you. Fuck you for spamming my e-mail with your newsletter three times a week, even though I unchecked the box that said I wanted to be contact by ANYONE associated with TicketMaster, and never stopping no matter how much I plead. Fuck you for existing and wasting what have could have been a day where I could have done something I enjoyed more, like cleaning toilets with my fucking tongue.