2 years ago. Purevolume. I was in love. Pop pop popping beats and slutface lyrics that simply turn you on.
Two years later, I am still hot for 3OH!3.
Before I begin :
Common Misconception Number One : It is not fun going to a show on your own.
Common Misconception Number Two : You will not meet the band unless you paid someone with love.
It was probably the coldest, skankiest, wettest day in Brighton. I was half-finishing my mofo essay and half slicking on thick red lipstick (which bytheway I am currently obsessed with) and baby, I was out the door.
I had two hours to kill. WHY? Based on past experiences, and The Concert Commandements, you always have to be excruciatingly early for the show. Even if you have to spazz your time away, even if you are alone, even if it's cold, skanky and wet.
BE EARLY.
I get to the venue and it's the emptiest place on the street. What do you do if the venue is the emptiest place on the street? You order a cheese panini and a hot chocolate and read a newspaper.
I start to regret. Regret going alone to the show. Regret not having my closest friends with me. Regret not bringing a magazine to read. Regret not being able to call someone and rub it in their face that I will be seeing 3OH!3 in a couple of hours. Regret not being able to-
'OMG. IT'S NATHANIEL!'
My spazz moment is now interrupted. Five schoolgirls are standing outside the cafe, jumping up and down and screaming blue murder. Some of them are waving cameras in the air and dancing. If this is what I stopped spazzing for then ...
A six foot six, skinny man with long dark hair is towering over a group of screaming teenagers across the street.
In a flash, I run out with my camera, jacketless, and shove it in a girl's face.
'Please, can I get a picture with you?'
'Sure.'
Oh, sweet mother of love. You know how you see hot people in pictures, and when you see them in real life they aren't all they are made out to be?
Yeah, he is a god.
And here I am trying to take picture after picture of him, to get one that wasn't blurry, but I guess I am the only one in this town with skeelz.
'Another picture? Wow, I am going to have to start charging you for it.'
Can you not be any more gorgeous.
As I return to my cold panini, this random guy with a very unmistakeable New York accent asks me what show I've come to see. And me being a total bitch, seeing that he isn't as hot as I would like him to be, looks away after answering that one question.
After this comes the one hour of standing in line in the cold. The freezing sea breeze. The chilly raindrops. The fucking annoying schoolgirls who seemed to have forgotten their trousers. The fucking annoying schoolgirls who were shouting out 3OH!3's songs to themselves and randomly dancing to it.
As far as I'm concerned, I should be the only one allowed to do that.
The doors open. It wasn't really the mad rush that I had expected but it was mad enough. The front line had already been filled (Damn!) and I had to make do with squeezing in behind them.
The first band up was called Bamboo Shoots, and this is basically where I regret being a bitch. So much.
The lead vocalist was the guy that tried to chat me up.
Idiot idiot idiot idiot. What if he fell in love with me and took me back to New York? What if his hot now-that-I-see-him drummer fell in love with me and took me back to New York? What if he knows Gabe Saporta?
The band is pretty new but I didn't particularly take a liking to their music. It was a little too non-3OH!3, non-screamo, non-Cobra Starship and yes, you get the picture. Maybe it was also because I didn't get to listen to them well enough because most of the time I was avoiding getting squished into people's backs or trampled on by a mosh pit or dragged left and right by fucktards who needed to get the fuck out of there and go fuck themselves.
I nearly dragged a girl down with me, because I lost my balance. And all this by chavs who desperately needed to mosh to a non-mosh band.
And oh yes, I have always wondered what chavs buy condoms for, seeing that they clearly don't use them.
They blow them up and throw them around at concerts.
And it is right about now, where I make my heart-wrenching decision to leave the second row for the back because I just could not stand the crowd. I can handle it if they surge forward or some bitch tries to elbow me, but certainly not when I am being dragged around and have my face pushed into someone's sweaty neck and nearly end up in a mosh pit.
The DJ then comes out. The smoking hot DJ Sean Smith. With his smoking hot basslines. With his smoking hot tracks. He was awesome.
And finally. Finally. 3OH!3.
By this time, I have managed to secure a place three rows from the stage. A little too far to get my hand touched, but close enough to get a water spray. And to see that awesome body rap his top off.
Nathaniel and Sean are awesome performers. They have fantastic coordination on stage - who stands where and when, they know how to get the crowd pumped up and they basically look fucking amazing on stage. And baby, he may look like a stick in the videos but his biceps were working it up there in the lights. Amazingly tall, amazingly sweet, and amazingly gorgeous hair.
Simply Fucktastic.
Oh, and the performance was good too. [Insert wink here.]
So all in all, it was a great night. I completely forgot that I was alone because the show was that good. I took so many great pictures and I have memories to last me a lifetime.
Now I'll do the Helen Keller, and talk with my hips.
Cheers.
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