At 10:30 p.m. last Thursday, I felt like hitting the grass.
311 was energetically finishing up their last set with "Who's Got the Herb?" while I was frantically searching for my green Ford Escort in the dark amongst other dark cars.
I wanted to call it quits by giving into gravity; I wasn't that inebriated, just exhausted after seven hours of mediocre concert dwelling. In my dire state, the vast parking lawn was too much to take in all at once, especially after learning that it was one of two identical lots, each on opposite sides of Westfair Amphitheater. Which one did I park in? Only God and my frustrated friend waiting at the car knew. My phone had died, so I dragged my feet through the fields with thoughts of the show resonating in my mind.
My friend and I arrived in Council Bluffs, Iowa about an hour behind schedule. As we were shepherded into our personal parking space in the middle of nowhere, it began to rain as flocks of bodies began pouring back into their cars. Apparently, Five Finger Death Punch was on stage when it began to rain, causing someone in charge to call a 45-minute rain delay on the event. This proved useful as it gave us ample time to meet our parking lot neighbors and prepare for the show in my car with beer.
As the rain conveniently ceased midway through the delay, I questioned whether the first band, Fiction Plane, even got a chance to play.
After the long trek from our car to the front gate, we were greeted by another long wait in line to the box office. With the proper credentials I was through security and up front taking pictures of the Kottonmouth Kings. Soon after, I was escorted out of the front by security guards; I had surpassed my 3-song limit for the press.
I have to say I wasn't a fan, nor did I become one in the midst of their juvenile performance. I did, however, find solace in the crowd's response to the whole atmosphere, which was nothing less than crushing the person in front of them to get a better view. Being in front and looking back at the cramped mass of concertgoers, I felt relieved in not having to worry about crowd surfers falling on my head, or kicking me in the face (as I did once to someone else as a body surfer).
After a $7 cheeseburger and $4 fries, I was ready for Snoop Dogg. As I made my way down to the front again, I felt the crowd's feelings of anticipation and excitement. Looking up at the crowd, I was blasted with an eye shot of female anatomy on top of masculine shoulders, followed by another and another.
The flashing ceased only during Snoop Dogg's elaborate entrance on stage in navy blue handkerchief coveralls. Soon after, the drummer broke out the first beat, which turned out to be "The Next Episode." I was so excited; I found it more natural to bounce to the beat than take pictures of the performers.
The set was great, with classics such as Dr. Dre's "Nothin' But A 'G' Thang" and "Who am I (What's my Name?)" making their way into the mix. I think he knew that everyone wanted to hear the old school stuff and assumed hardly anyone had listened to or heard of his last few albums. I don't know if that is necessarily a bad thing or not, but either way he stole the show for me, even before 311 stepped on stage.
The thing about Snoop Dogg that I found most amazing was that his public persona is the same no matter where he is. With his recognizable style and size, he danced his gansta dance and moved with the crowd, only occasionally asking the girls to, "show me dem' titties!" and referring to himself only once in the third person, "How many of ya'll love Snoop Dogg?" I think this was his way of interacting with the crowd dynamic.
By the time 311 got on stage, I was beat and ready to go home. I soon got a second wind when I observed the masses flocking to the front more than they had previously for any of the other acts; it was now obvious that most were here to see their hometown heroes 311.
Since I had seen them before, I was less excited than the majority, but that didn't stop me from grooving up front to my favorite songs of their's: "Down," "Beautiful Disaster" and "Come Original" to name a few.
At first I believed the band to be seemingly unpracticed instrumentally, yet polished in their physicality. I soon changed my mind after every member of the band began playing auxiliary percussion during their set break. The rhythmic snares and constant melody making gave me chills and reaffirmed my love for the band.
Yeah, the search for my car lasted an hour or more, but the headache from all the wacky lights and loud screams lasted a lot longer. If it were up to me, it would have only been Snoop Dogg and 311 performing, yet, somehow, I can't help but think that the entire experience would have been different, maybe less satisfactory, if it weren't for the bands I didn't like.
travisbeck@dailynebraskan.com
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