The Taste of Ink
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If a music venue no longer exists, did its concerts ever happen?
The now former Mississippi Nights in downtown St. Louis was the home of my first concert in 2003. It was the perfect storm of angsty 2000's screamo: My Chemical Romance opened, Finch headlined, and the band I really went to see played right in the middle—The Used.
This was my first concert, so I didn't know what to expect, but I was told there would be both moshing and crowd surfing. I was game for both. Now, I'm not a big guy, but I am definitely too big to crowd surf. My first time went a lot like a parabolic flight—I went up and came straight back down.
Right onto the back of my head. Ouch.
At least it should have hurt if I wasn't 17 and full of adrenaline. Completely aware that everyone on the floor watched me plummet to the concrete, I popped right back up like nothing happened. Okay, not so good at crowd surfing, how about the moshing?
Oh, this I was good at. If there is one thing for which high school football prepared me, it was knocking other human beings around on the dance floor. I straight MOSHED through the Used's entire set and by the entire, I could barely catch my breath. After getting all that out of my system, we hung back towards the end of the floor and watched Finch close out the night.
I also learned that night what an encore was, because we left before Finch did theirs. Now every jabroni out there does an encore and I stay for them all!