The Cure. Fuck them. Sorry big fans(specifically an ex-girlfriend), but I can’t stand the way that the happiest sounding music can some how pave the way for dark goth bullshit. Whatever. I suppose their early stuff was darker, but that later america conquering pop bullshit with fucking trumpets? What the fuck?
The reason I bring that up is that they have been on a rampage here in Los Angeles.
A few shows, the KROQ show which I happened to catch a tidbit of, the Troubadour which was part of a myspace music show and Jimmy Kimmel, which had fans standing on the sidewalk of Hollywood and Highland to catch a muffled listen, including this one huge latin dude with a lame mohawk and makeup who was at every single event the cure had done so far. I am sure he was only one of the countless uberfans who caught all the performances, perhaps even skipping work for such an adventure.
I come into the picture because I am part manual laborer, backline tech and sound engineer for the company I work for and we were assigned to all their shows. We get assigned to a lot of shows.
Sure, sure, that means that I get to see the bands, but I do not “meet” them or anything fan-ish like that. One of the reasons I was hired is because I don’t give a fuck about famous people. So don’t ask me for an autograph. Not my thing, dude.
Enough with the negativity, which is obviously cleverly masked jealousy, right?
I love my job.
There I am, in front of the chinese theater on hollywood blvd, arguably one of the busiest and most famous locations in hollywood if not the united states or even the world, grunting and throwing 4×12 vintage orange cabinets and custom schecter guitars into the back of track, dripping with sweat, all because perhaps one of the biggest influences of some of my most favorite bands. Oh, and it is raining.
To me that feels just like heaven.
However, one itsy bitsy little story I would like to share.
Backstage at the KROQ acoustic christmas thing. A bunch of shit bands like the killers and paramore and of course, the cure, who is currently playing. I am waiting for them to stop. I hate boys don’t cry, and it is blaring arena rock concert loud and the band is gyrating and Mr. Smiths hair is a poofy mess.
There are 5 or 6 young tweens backstage as well, waiting in the wings of the stage, eyes wide like deer in headlights. They whisper among themselves.
The band continues to rock on, I can see members of the audience swaying and dancing in that gothy awkward manner. Hey, theres Gwen Stefani in the crowd. Ha. The band plays their last song and walks off stage.
A member of the tweens says to one of the most famous front men of all time., “Hey that was sick! I have never heard you guys and you were amazing!”
He walks past, fat cheeks and sweaty black clothes, not even so much as acknowledging the new found fan. His security guard barks a industry standard, “back up please” and they continue out the rear entrance, followed by the rest of the band.
The tweens stand awestruck and silent. Finally one of them mutters, “..a douchebag…” and I swear he took the words right out of my mouth.
I didn’t feel jealousy specifically at that moment. I felt what people feel when they watch a reality show, recognize and relate to someones situation and disagree with that characters reaction while proclaiming what they would do in a similar circumstance. Regardless, the viewer is not on the show, therefor not as famous(or on tv) as the contestant and finds their opinion fails to change anything. While I might hate the band and that guy, I am envious of their position, but for fucks sake I would of said thank you to that kid.
An argument for Rob’s actions, from the mouths of a die hard fan would sound like, “well they are old and salty and have said thank you to a million fans and he is tormented and emotional and blah-de-fucking-blah.”
I say go sit in a cave and listen to lovesong then, fan. Alone. I’ll be in heaven.