The Menzingers- June 29, 2012; The Barbary/Gunner’s Run, Philadelphia
The Menzingers are basically the adopted sons of Philadelphia. Originally from Scranton, PA, they have found a niche in the punk scene of Southeastern Pennsylvania. I love them. They’re different. I don’t listen to them as I would most bands. I have never sat down to figure out where their influences came from. I just enjoy what they produce.
No matter how much I love the Menzingers, this night was doomed from its inception.
On June 29th, the temperature in Philly was approximately three bazillion degrees. The poorly-planned outfit I had packed to change into at work before heading to the show was quite seriously the worst idea ever. It was just jeans, Chucks and a black three-quarters t-shirt. I should have just packed a down winter coat, because I was immediately regretting the choice upon walking out of the office. The thought of climbing into my car to sit in Philly traffic while perched a black leather seat made me whimper a bit, but the Menzingers were waiting!
This was not working out well thus far, but I wanted to check these guys off my list. I was already irritated with myself for putting off the Wonder Years. I couldn’t let the Menzingers down too!
I spent the equivalent of three minutes in the second floor bar of the Barbary, attempting to drink enough to make the stifling heat more bearable. Not a chance. That’s when I realized I could hear the Menzingers already playing downstairs. It was only 7:30! Oh, well. They were amazing… for the five songs we heard. We hid in a nook by the merch tables to avoid body heat when it was announced that the Menzingers would be doing an acoustic set at Gunner’s Run after the show. That was all we needed to hear. We were out the door before the announcement was even complete to secure a good seat and grab food like old people flocking the early bird special.
Mistake number two of the night was assuming that the acoustic set would be relaxing. A group of approximately 25 people, instead of finding a good vantage point in the rather nice restaurant, crowded around the corner set up for live music, completely blocking the view for the rest of the establishment.
Gunner’s Run has great food, by the way. And if you check in on Foursquare, you get a free Pabst pounder. Unfortunately, if you know me at all, I refuse to drink Pabst. I’m convinced it has a secret ingredient that will automatically turn me into a brainwashed hipster who no longer has any drive to contribute the Gross National Product.
Did I mention that I was already miserable?
There were two women who were considered the Menzinger’s surprise guests. I didn’t know who they were, and, quite honestly, was perturbed by their music. I pretended to be listening until my companion shot a pleading look my way.
Essentially giving up, we got back in the car and were home just in time for an absolutely torrential thunderstorm that lasted for HOURS. I guess the night could have been worse.
All in all, the major positives at the end of the night were 1. We thoroughly enjoyed Gunner’s Run’s food and atmosphere and 2. I will be attempting to see the Menzingers again when I am no longer suffering from heat stroke.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
I Miss Mix Tapes
I miss the whole concept of mix tapes and CD’s. Future generations will never understand the sheer joy that is evoked by someone special handing you a mix tape. This person took the time to create a playlist, usually on paper, and then painstakingly recorded each song from beginning to end, strategically pausing the recording to pop in another CD or to *gasp* record a song off the radio.
If this gift-giver was particularly fond of you, they would find an empty cassette case, which, in mix tape heyday was virtually impossible. Let me explain: Upon opening a new tape in your car or home, you would remove the insert that contained the lyrics and throw the clear, plastic case with reckless abandon into the backseat or on the floor of your bedroom, where, inevitably, it would disappear or be crushed within seconds.
If this gift-giver was particularly fond of you, they would find an empty cassette case, which, in mix tape heyday was virtually impossible. Let me explain: Upon opening a new tape in your car or home, you would remove the insert that contained the lyrics and throw the clear, plastic case with reckless abandon into the backseat or on the floor of your bedroom, where, inevitably, it would disappear or be crushed within seconds.
Locating a functioning cassette case was a feat in and of itself. If you received a mix tape with an UNCRACKED case? You better marry that person, because they clearly traveled to the ends of the earth. One would think the prize was the tape or the case… I always valued the personalized insert the most.
When I was in junior high school, CD’s were the main choice for music, but the cost to purchase a burner was still prohibitively expensive. So, to properly portray your feelings for another, you didn’t really have a choice. We thought we were evolved now that we did not have to tape songs off the radio. If you're from my age group, you remember listening to your local radio station, and vaulting over furniture to hit record when the song you love started. You would be forced to hover over the tape player until the song was over, and hope the DJ wouldn't start talking over the track before the end.
Now that we had CD's, we would have uninterupted recording, and control over when the songs started. This, my friends, was a labor-intensive process.
As a 10th grader, a favorite friend of mine gave me an unforgettable mix tape that included, prepare to swoon… Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” and Dennis Leary’s “Asshole.” I was fifteen and flattered. He drew flowers next to Tom Petty’s song listing and “HA!” in a cartoon dialogue bubble next to Dennis Leary's. Shortly thereafter, he asked me to his prom.
Now that we had CD's, we would have uninterupted recording, and control over when the songs started. This, my friends, was a labor-intensive process.
As a 10th grader, a favorite friend of mine gave me an unforgettable mix tape that included, prepare to swoon… Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” and Dennis Leary’s “Asshole.” I was fifteen and flattered. He drew flowers next to Tom Petty’s song listing and “HA!” in a cartoon dialogue bubble next to Dennis Leary's. Shortly thereafter, he asked me to his prom.
I have no idea whatever happened to that mix tape, but I do know I listened to it tirelessly until I bought a car that didn't have a tape deck a few years later... And I think of Matt awkwardly standing at my front door in his tuxedo, hands shaking and shoving a corsage box at me every time I hear Tom Petty's "Wildflowers." You don’t experience that kind of lasting memory from a fleeting playlist.
These days, we have the technology to compile playlists on our phones. Wait, wha??? Comparatively, I would say it took HOURS to make a mix tape, while these days, it takes all of... oh... three minutes to hop on Spotify, throw together a playlist and text it.
Don't get me wrong. I love Spotify with every fiber of my being, but part of me misses the effort of the mix tape. *sigh*
On a more positive note, this is the first time I can honestly say I am proud of a playlist I put together for my boyfriend of almost 4 years. Yes, I call him Wubby, a name used to refer to security blanket, because I don’t like sleeping without him. I’m fully aware that I’m a cheeseball.
Don't get me wrong. I love Spotify with every fiber of my being, but part of me misses the effort of the mix tape. *sigh*
On a more positive note, this is the first time I can honestly say I am proud of a playlist I put together for my boyfriend of almost 4 years. Yes, I call him Wubby, a name used to refer to security blanket, because I don’t like sleeping without him. I’m fully aware that I’m a cheeseball.
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