1128

Joe, Glenn, Grant, and I went to see Oasis last night at Lakewood Amphitheater. You remember Oasis — they had those songs that were popular about, er, 10 years ago? Wonderwall and Champagne Supernova. I caught onto them right around the time Champagne Supernova was on MTV. I was dubbing music videos in high school to play as intro content on the morning announcements and got hooked on that song. I’ve bought every album since then, although I think my brothers have managed to liberate several of them.

We parked and walked along the Lakewood Fairgrounds toward the Amphitheater. Joe says that an opening scene in Smokey and the Bandit was shot here, up by the crumbling old concrete stands. I’d like to come back someday with my camera. In the right lighting — probably early morning — those stands would make quite a picture.

Jet was one of the openers. You know Jet — they do that song that goes “1, 2, 3 take my hand and come with me because you look so fine that I really wanna make you mine.” It’s great pop rock. The band we heard, however, was a foul mess of sound, rambunctious openers playing like they’re the real Rolling Stone band-of-the-year headliners and we’re all drunk and naked. (They aren’t, and we weren’t.)

Their front man was applauding to us, gesturing for us to applaud for them, and I started to lose a little patience. “We’ll clap if you do anything deserving of applause,” I offered. (He did not respond.) Three songs went by, and I couldn’t tell one from the next, so I decided to wander around and save my ears for the band I was there to hear. I also wanted to find earplugs. I’m a ripe old 27, and I guess the ears just don’t like to get pounded like they used to. More likely, though, somebody had the amps up a bit too high. At one point my ear actually hurt, tipping the scales in my conversation with myself over how lame I’d look watching the show with earplugs in. I left Glenn and began my search.

I found a table with three people sitting at it, promoting some sort of educational thing that nobody seemed to care about. I figured they might be likely to know where I could find ear protection.

Me: I have a real wussy question.
Old guy wearing Lakewood polo: Yes?
Me: Can I buy earplugs anywhere around here?
Old guy: No. Nope.

I had some recollection of a law or ordinance requiring earplugs to be sold at concert venues (I wasn’t able to confirm that with Google), so I didn’t give up, instead wandering around and looking for more old people. Passing beer and daiquiri stand after stand, I finally found a Guest Relations window, with a woman who advised me to try first aid, on the other side of the Amphitheater. Jet was still butchering their own songs, so I made the trek at a leisurely pace, ducking behind the concessions on the other side to find three people sitting at a table under a small tent.

Me: Is this first aid?
Woman: Yes it is!
Me: Do you sell earplugs?
Woman: Inside the door, $2.

Her tablemates laughed, indicating that I wasn’t the first to appear with that question. I opened the door of the first aid shed and went inside.

The first aid shed was constructed of particle board, somewhat like a small barn, with cots lining the walls and a table at end. Two EMTs were seated on the cots, at the ready, and three people sat behind the table. I asked, and they all laughed, one offering, “We should charge $5 for those things at the rate they’re selling!” Handing over my $2, I asked if this was normal. “Nope, something about this show. Maybe they don’t have enough bodies to soak up the sound.” I was almost out the door when I decided to go ahead and get a pair for Glenn, too. Got to look out for my brother from time to time, you know.

I returned to our seats and handed Glenn his present. Jet was still playing their little hearts out, their “That 70’s Show” Garage Band aesthetic seeming a little bizarre as I donned my headphones and found that, while indeed they deadened the sound, they deadened it perhaps too much. I waited patiently for my temporary hearing loss to subside, which it did, but by the end of their wretched set it seemed rather comical to hear the whoops and clapping around me. The claps were quiet, like polite golf claps, the whoops I heard limited only to those close around me, thus enhancing the Cone of Lameness effect provided by my yellow construction earplugs (with blue strap between them).

The earplugs came out once the lights came back on, and before too long Oasis took the stage. I fingered the plastic earplug package in my pocket, ready to squish them back in again, but it quickly became clear that that wouldn’t be necessary. To be certain, Oasis was loud, but not remotely uncomfortably so. I smiled and enjoyed the show, happy that Lakewood had considerately trimmed down the volume a bit. Maybe enough folks had asked for earplugs that the message got back around. Or maybe they like to make the opener sound like shite.

Oasis played well, if somewhat weakly. Most of the crowd mysteriously looked to be high school or early college age, yet they only really responded to material from the first two albums — and we’re talking about albums from 1994 and 1995! These kids were in fourth and fifth grade at the time! Maybe they’ve actually been listening to Wonderwall for all these years.

Zak Starkey was superb on the drums, Liam in his usual strutting form, and Noel seeming quite comfortable. Joe thought they were a bit off the whole night — they did play rather unremarkable renditions of Wonderwall and Champagne Supernova, among others — but we all agreed that the two last songs, “Don’t Look Back In Anger” and “My Generation” (a Who cover — Starkey has been playing with The Who), were excellent. The lighting was pretty incredible as well.

As they left the stage Glenn and I made our way back to Joe’s car, and I called Jess to chat with her a bit before she had to go to bed. Actually we talked a good bit longer than that — the whole way home and then some, even over Joe’s endless contributions to the half of the conversation he was hearing and his hollering once the Braves won.

I wonder how many more big rock and roll shows I’ll go to. I got tired of Music Midtown over 5 years ago, and lately the appeal of seeing big acts has started to fade, starting with The Black Crowes disappointing appearance earlier this year. No doubt Joe will probably have a thing or two to say about this line of thinking the next time Oasis comes to town and tickets are $65 + service fees 1, 2, and 3.

Posted: Wednesday, September 28th, 2005 at 11:12 am; Category: Audio; Comments feed: RSS 2.0.
You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.