Who: Our Lady Peace
Well, a few weeks ago, I discovered that my sweet Our Lady Peace was to come to the Newport on the part of their tour that didn't include American Hi-Fi, so I invited Mike from COSI (the science center where I work), ordered a couple of will call tickets, and anticipated. I hadn't listened to my Our Lady Peace CDs in quite a while, and I didn't even own the two most recent albums, but I had been hearing a lot of the new stuff on all of the music video stations that I get here, so between that and a bit of massive downloading, I was ready to sing and shake. Mike and I agreed to meet at the Newport at 7:30 PM for the concert. The Newport is right on my college campus, but I decided to avoid the wind messing up my hair by riding the bus over. As soon as I got down to the bus stop, I realised that I had forgotten to grab my cell phone before leaving, and the stop is right next to my dorm, but I didn't want to miss the bus and make myself late for the meeting, so I decided that I would really have no need for my cell, anyway.
I arrived at the Newport a few minutes before 7:30, so I just walked back through the line, checking to see if Mike was there. I got a few glances and a few look-overs and a few stares, but none of them were from Mike. So, I just hung out in line and talked with some guys who were overwhelmed by the fact that Tim Reynolds is coming to town in a few days. They also made fun of the fact that Evan and Jaron will be playing there, so I decided not to tell them that I want to go to that show to gawk at the boys. I got up to the front of the line and grabbed my tickets without seeing Mike, and thinking that he may have been outside waiting, I went back out to have a look-see. I looked. I didn't see. A homeless guy attacked me and complimented my nail polish in order to have an excuse to touch my hand, it seemed, so some guys came to my rescue and kept the guy occupied while I slipped back inside. On one of my trips back outside to look around, I had the joy of seeing a concert-goer get thrown out for something or other. He was taken around the corner and evidently hurt in some way, because he came back to the front of the Newport and announced that he was calling the cops. He got out his cell phone, complaining that he was on the guest list, and pretended to call someone. He began talking into the phone, but after the security guys laughed at him, he put his phone down and started to whimper a bit. He then decided to call his lawyer and actually seemed as if he was talking to someone, but I never got to see the outcome of the situation, because at 8, I had had enough waiting and went back inside to leave Mike's ticket at the box office.
I hoped that this wasn't an Adam-like situation (an allusion to my Modest Mouse concert) and checked around the venue a bit to make sure that Mike hadn't already gone in without my noticing. I saw him not, so I went up to the balcony to have a place to watch for him from. I found a small spot along the railing and squeezed myself into it. The opening band, The Sheila Divine, had already begun, and as I stood listening to them, the massively tall guy in front of me turned around, pointed to me, and asked the people behind me who I was. I said, "Random girl," so he nodded and turned back around to watch the concert. Then, a few minutes later, the strangest thing happened. I had my butt grabbed. It seemed like a very deliberate grab, but we were pretty smashed in up there, so I decided just to ignore it and assume that it was an accident. However, a few minutes later, I felt it again. This time, though, it was more of a stroke than a grab. A stroke with one finger, actually. I was rather disgusted and turned to the guy behind to ask him to please keep his hands off of me for the remainder of the concert. He didn't understand a word of what I said because of the noise, so I just hoped that my turning around would be enough. But it wasn't. In fact, the stroking turned into a full-fledged fondle. Finally, I had had enough, and realising that it wasn't the guy behind me, I went to the two guys behind him, grabbed their shoulders to spin them around to face me, and told them not to touch me. They just stared at me, so I went back to take my place on the railing, my kung-fu skills in hand, and pushed the other two apart to fit back in between them. One of the accused butt-strokers leaned over to the other and said, "What did she say!?" Then, they started being all man-like and telling each other than I was going to get myself "fucked in the ass all night long" if I didn't let them have their way. I so badly wanted to run downstairs and seek comfort in a security guard, but I couldn't let them know that they had won, so I just sang along to the one Sheila Divine song that I knew and toughed it out.
In between bands, the drunkest (and therefore loudest) of the men pushed the others out of the way and just looked at me. He then stuck out his hand and asked my name. I wanted to shove an hors d'oeuvre fork through his hand, but instead I just let it hang there and asked his name first. Steve. Steve the Butt-Fondler. He told me that I really needed to lighten up, so I told him to eat me. No, actually, I said, "You know, Steve. It's okay if you want to grab my ass. I'm fine with you grabbing my ass. Just ask first. Just say, 'Katie, I'd like to grab your ass. Is that okay?' I'll say, 'Sure, Steve. I enjoy having my ass grabbed.'" Steve told me once again to lighten up, so I told him to buy me a drink. He chuckled, and the massively tall guy in front of me asked if I was Italian, because I was using my hands so much. He was Erik. Erik with a "k". The other guys were Matt and Thom. They were all about 30 and from Youngstown and incredibly good-looking, but just the fact that I was totally defenseless made me a little bit wary of so much as talking to them. Steve decided that he wanted to get even more obnoxious, so he asked what I drink and went to the bar to get something for himself. He brought me back a Rolling Rock and about 400 drinks for himself and the other three guys. I really hadn't expected or wanted him to get me anything, but now that I had it, they were dead set on me drinking it. As we talked, Steve kept asking where Raine (lead singer of Our Lady Peace and owner of the coolest name in existence) was, so I finally just asked him if he's gay or what. He said, "Gay?!" as if he wasn't quite sure of the meaning of the word, so Thom stepped in for him and said with a little wink, "No, Steve's not gay . . . but I may get my ass grabbed a few times tonite." So, Steve was, in fact, the grabber.
The band took the stage after an annoying video that showcased 400 skateboarders and tire-riders falling off their respective methods of transportation in about two different ways. The men were impressed, though, and anything that kept them occupied was okay with me. I'm lame and didn't write down the setlist, so I couldn't even tell you what OLP opened with. I think I was far too concerned with not getting myself "fucked in the ass all night long" to really pay the proper attention to the concert, but I did notice how spectacular Raine's voice was. There was an awful lot of Clumsy being played, which was fine with me, since it's the album that I'm most familiar with. In fact, during Car Crash, Thom came over to me and asked if I was enjoying the song. I told him that it was one of the best that they had played so far, and he asked if I even know what album it's from. I informed him that it's totally on Clumsy, so after that, I was in with Thom. He kept asking me what my favourite songs are and what I thought about each particular album and how badly I wanted to suck his toes and all other sorts of whatnot. He also kept reaching around Steve every two minutes or so and saying, "Drink the beer, dammit. Drink it!" I was seriously frightened. Frightened for my body. Frightened for my life. Frightened for the life of the baby inside of me. Okay, fine. I have no baby inside of me. Back off!
I'll give the guys one thing, though. Even in their state of absolute drunkenness, they knew their Our Lady Peace. They knew every word of every song and every inflection of Raine's voice. I was impressed. I was not impressed by their repeated shouting of song names, though. Two notes into a song, when they realised what the band was playing, they would all begin to shout the name of the song wildly and give each other high fives until they collapsed against the railing in exhaustion. Then, Thom would revive himself and yell at me, "Drink the beer, dammit. Drink it!" To give him some credit, though, he was a tiny bit concerned about me. He gave me his wristband so that I could avoid being accused of underage drinking. He also kept offering to buy me something to replace my rather warm drink, but that could have easily been in his own best interests. My favourite part of the concert was when all of Steve's idiotic dancing finally paid off for him. He had been Irish jigging all night, pointing at Raine with each word that he sang, and finally, in the middle of Everyone's a Junkie, Raine pointed right back up at him. Made Steve's night, as you can imagine. The band also played Clumsy, Superman's Dead, Is Anybody Home?, Life, Lying Awake, Thief, The Birdman, Blister, In Repair, Right Behind You, If You Believe, and several hundred other songs that I've blocked out in all of the traumatic events of the evening, but Are You Sad? was the highlight of my night, as it's my favourite song on Spiritual Machines.
After OLP left the stage, I was finally able to escape from the Butt-Fondlers to the safety of my friend Scott. I had spotted him downstairs about halfway through the set, but Thom kept holding me back when I attempted to leave, so it took the leaving of his favourite band to make Thom vulnerable. I shook his hand and thanked him for a lovely night, thanked Steve for the beer, and tried to ignore their pleas not to leave them alone. Safe in the presence of Scott and his brother the massive Our Lady Peace fan, I was able to enjoy the encore, which consisted of 4 A.M., Starseed, and Julia. Thom had been promising me Starseed all night, so when it came on, I looked up to the balcony to catch his eye and give him a nod or something. Then, I thought to myself, "What am I doing?! I was pseudo-raped by him!" I was thoroughly impressed by my first Our Lady Peace experience, though. I only found out later in the evening that Mike had been doing his taxes and had called my cell phone a couple of times to let me know that he was going to be late. I don't know that I would have had quite the same happy happy fun fun time had he been there, though. Missing the possible rape-age? I think not.
Where: Newport Music Hall • Columbus, Ohio
When: April 16th, 2001