EXPLOIT THE SCENE With Kyle “Kore” Parsons Episode 9: Crowd Dynamic If you have been following my column, I was going to continue disputing and detesting scene fads but as we all know, things come up, and since Bamboozle Left was this past weekend I couldn’t skip one of the largest alternative rock festivals in the scene. Unfortunately, all of that other bullshit will still be there to bitch about so I will save it for another day. For those of you unaware… slap yourselves, because you should be aware… Bamboozle Left was created as a west coast version of The Bamboozle in New Jersey. I have tried to get my ass over there a few times but it has never worked out, so thank God we finally have some recognition over here. Represent, yo. (I’m so white.) The Bamboozle and Bamboozle Left have had the absolute strongest band lineups of any modern tour or festival including Taste of Chaos and Warped Tour. This year followed that same pattern with various headliners like: Senses Fail, Silverstein, The Get Up Kids, and Fall Out Boy for day one, and The Used, Thrice, Taking Back Sunday, The Deftones, and 50 Cent for day two. Yes… “Fiddy.” I don’t get it either. This week’s column isn’t specific toward this particular event; rather, it’s going to be used as a microcosm for live shows in general. Anyone who has been to an alternative rock, metal, or hardcore influenced show can relate to the experience of being in a living, breathing, body-odor enhancing crowd and will appreciate having story time. I think it’s fair to say that the average age at shows is somewhere around 16. Bamboozle Left really brought me back. I have been feeling pretty old the past couple of years, at age 22, because most of these new pop/punk and sceney bands are younger than I am, not to mention, way less talented than the bands I used to look up to. This statistic really set-in when the lead vocalist of Silverstein asked the crowd how many people in the audience were born in the 90s and the entire area raised their hands and screamed intelligible “woos” and “yays.” Awkward. Regardless, this whole experience was laid-out the way it should be. All those pop/punk and sceney bands were placed on smaller, less important stages in the far back of the amphitheater while the bands I went to see were right smack center stage! I felt 16 again as The Used and Taking Back Sunday were the little “nobodies” I began to follow so many years ago. In fact, after recounting today, this was the eighth time seeing The Used and the twelfth time seeing Taking Back Sunday. As soon as The Used began their intro music, I wet myself. We rushed forward with two thousand other people to, of course, be pancaked in with a handful of people from every scene imaginable, like the hardcore meathead to the left of me and one of those weird novelty-wearing kids with a My Little Pony backpack to my right. The first song of every headlining set quickly changes from having moderate personal space to sharing air with a sweaty obese man and having a series of elbows and fingers in between each rib and vertebrate. Just like clockwork, that awkward silence between the first song and the next segment of the set triggers a massive crunch as everyone fuses together to become one giant mass. Ironically, there are a million feet but not a sure-foot to stand on as one shove triggers a butterfly effect of unstable scene kids. It’s funny, if you sneeze on someone’s face – their flinch moves like a wave and knocks people over 50 feet away. Sometimes I can go ten minutes without my feet touching the ground as the individuals on all of my personal boarders are smashing me so tightly that I can levitate. It’s not being drenched from head to toe in other people’s sweat, the knots in my back for the week following, or even the complete destruction of my hair that bothers me… okay the hair thing bothers me – but it’s the stupid kids that place themselves in this situation and complain about it. “Oh my God it’s so hot!” “Stop pushing!” “I need out! I NEED OUT!” How could you not love getting the shit beat out of you while screaming all the words to your favorite band? Ah yes, side note: scene kids are all fakes that wear the uniform but can’t perform. Eventually the back and forth motion loosens up a bit as you enter into the second segment of a typical crowd. Only the front portion of the people are smashed and falling all over each other while the people 15 rows and back can now inhale up to 60 percent of their lung capacity. At this point the mosh pits break out – which is the greatest part in the whole process as you can hang out on the outside of the pits and receive all of the great amenities such as a non-obstructed view of the stage, fresh air, and space to dance. All you have to do is block your face and throw a few punches. The real problem of being on the wall of the pit isn’t dealing with the hardcore dancers, it’s dealing with the stupid kids behind you who aren’t very understanding of the service you’re providing. They can see I am standing in front of them taking the impact and enjoying myself, but for some reason when some guy spin-kicks in my direction, I get pinched, scratched, jabbed, or shoved from behind. Sorry kids, your impulsive attacks aren’t going through me – to the dude in the pit, they are actually just bugging me. Or maybe they have been reading this column and want me to get knocked out? Some little girl was taking out her daddy issues all over my lower back with a stabbing motion over and over again. A swift elbow to the head is usually enough to end it. Now don’t think poorly of me for beating up girls, a hard elbow to the temple translates into a warm “hello sweetie, please refrain, thank you” in the show world. If bad behavior continues, you might as well show them what they’re missing so they can truly appreciate your endeavors. Simply turn around, smirk, grab them, and launch them into the pit so they get trampled while you scream “you’re welcome!” You have no idea what kind of stress reliever the whole concept is. Plus, I don’t really feel bad because with all the marijuana floating around in the air I’m sure they are second-hand-stoned and oblivious anyway. Finally we enter the last segment of the set. Once the headliners begin playing some of their more anticipated songs, you begin to get the feeling of the eminent finale. This is where the crowd surfers take flight as a last ploy to rock out. I always think the timing is funny, because at this point all of the people in front are so exhausted from being smashed and ran into that they have no strength to hold a crowd surfer. Once the front lines, or scene infantry (if you will,) are pummeled over and over again then you truly see the chaos that is a rock show. “I got to the front of the crowd and all I got was this lousy concussion!” An event like Bamboozle is great because it gives you the opportunity to play out this process a dozen times for each band’s set. Once you figure out how to control the beast known as a “crowd,” then these things become fun – not deadly. Out of my group of friends, we managed to get out just fine – with the exception of one friend’s bloody forehead and the other’s broken hand – but who needs two hands anyway? Plus, the fancy shmancy splints the medics provide are quite fashionable – take injuries as an honor!
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Yes, the hair part made me laugh.