That Time I Won Tickets to My Friend’s Band: An Evening w/ CRUISR
I met Kyle on the job about three years ago; a confident designer who’s mastered the right amount of countenance in the work place. He’ll sit back, listen, and wait to react to whatever it is you’re saying or showing. It’s really quite impressive to watch, but mildly maddening for someone who works off visual cues mid-conversation (which I do).
I became privy to the fact that he was in a band while working on an article for our company’s website. Upon hearing the music, I found myself really enjoying it, agnostic of my fleeting relation to its creation. It was also impressive to me that someone I know is in a good band. Whenever you hear about a friend or acquaintance being in a band, you often think something to the extent of, “aw, that’s nice.” There’s no real expectation that they’ll be any good. Even if per chance they are good, there’s no indication that they’ll be popular.
The band in question is CRUISR, but at the time I was introduced to them, they still had an ‘E’ in the title. Brainchild of lead vocalist Andy States, the band was put together off the strength of his self-produced demos. Over about two years, I’d gone to small shows, bought the EP, and just generally enjoyed listening to and supporting local talent. Kyle would even send me samples of new songs because he knew I enjoyed them. I possessed a tiny peep hole into music being created and I dug every second of it. The fact that I possess no musical acumen of my own made it even more curiously enjoyable.
They would open bigger rooms and draw a crowd over time, but it wasn’t until Kyle took time from the office to tour with them last year that it kind of hit me — I know a guy in a band. Not any band, but A band. They toured opening for The 1975, who possess a younger following. Now, not only do I know a dude in a band, but it’s a band that a lot of young girls like, too. Heh. I know a dude in a dreamy band.
By this point, I’d seen CRUISR live seven or eight times, which probably sounds like a lot. It’s always social and supportive, at times barely even talking to Kyle and just hanging out with the other friends that attended. I never desired to be a hanger-on in any way, so I just sat back and bopped along. I’m more of a wait to be invited kind of guy as opposed to an excuse me, excuse me, I know them fellow. I’ve missed as many shows as I’ve caught, but I try to see them when they’re in town.
Enough history, let’s get to the awkward.
I received an email from the TLA marketing department congratulating me on winning tickets to an upcoming show, but I didn’t remember entering anything off the top of my head. I opened that sucker up and to my surprise; it was for me and a guest to see CRUISR. Perfect! I had dragged my feet on picking up tickets so this was fortuitous indeed. Upon reading the rest of the email, I had also won a meet and greet with the band where they will personally hand me a signed CD and pose for pictures. Umm…cool, I guess…maybe more awkward than cool.
Now what? Not only have I met most of them in passing, sometimes in elevated states of intoxication, but a tinge of guilt washed over me — I’m taking away some 15-year-old girl’s wish to meet the dreamy members of their favorite band.
After a little deliberation, I figured, why not. I’m going to own this and go. I gave Kyle the heads up, but in hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have. How humorous would that have been? Just show up behind a line of tweens with a big smile and a poster for them to sign. I digress.
With a brave plus one in tow, I made it to the venue at the suggested time of 5:45PM; almost two hours before the first of three openers were set to perform. It seemed excessive, but I decided to just go with the flow of the night and experience it with as little bias as possible. In other words, I will try not to focus on being a 33-year-old man standing in line with seven other super fans, some of which are still in high school.
The ladies (yes, I was the only male) in line were fascinating and expected all at once. They wore CRUISR tee shirts and excitedly shared stories of their brushes with the band. They would refer to the members on first name basis, exhibiting a genuine connection despite having never shared any quality time with them as people. It was more endearing than creepy and made me wonder, “Was I ever a fan of anything that deeply?” Having been so far removed from that mindset, I forgot just how palpable fandom could be.
It wasn’t until one young girl mentioned that the guitar pick around her neck was from Kyle that I snapped out of it and let slip an association. I couldn’t help but chortle and mildly roll my eyes just at her borderline worship of a guy with which I’ve shared conference calls and client meetings. I quickly retreated my initial reaction as to not rain on her parade and veered the topic to other shows.
While they were telling me about seeing CRUISR at Johnny Brenda’s earlier in the year, a show I attended, I suddenly recalled seeing this same set of fans waiting for Kyle to sign the set list while I was saying hello. Of course, at this point my plus one was rolling her eyes at me for inadvertently gaining the super fans’ favor.
I see your, ooh, Old Mr. Fancy-Pants-Knows-the-Band look. Point taken.
Welcome to the TLA!
An older security guard, belting out information on his walkie-talkie, ushers us into the building. The cadence and urgency in his voice was that of a man tasked with directing children out of a burning building; curt and authoritative without being frightening.
Having never been to the venue before, my eyes jetted around surveying the area as he herded us through. It appeared to be the perfect size venue; no matter where you are on the floor, the faces in the band are visible. Security McGee takes us upstairs to the balcony where the band is standing, waiting for anything. You can kind of see the “alright, let’s do this” look on their faces. No matter the global popularity of the talent, I can imagine that a constant sea of fresh faces can become slightly uncomfortable. But it’s only seconds before the energy from these girls perks them up.
I held back and watched until eventually Kyle made a path to me after the other hellos. While the other members of the band held court, he and I talked about the aftermath and lack of sleep from his birthday party the night before — which I had pleasure of witnessing in person. I felt bad about leaving “early,” but it was almost 2am and there were still nearly two dozen people there celebrating the last year of his twenties
I was mindful not to take time away from these more worthy winners and offered to take pictures for them. After a few rounds of snaps, I thought — I want a picture too. I became emboldened to go ahead and pose for some… I won the right, dammit. In moments of awkward, I find it’s best to just steer into it with a smile.
I’m sure that the members of the band whom I had never really met were weirded out by some dude in advanced age posing in front of them, but whatever. I shimmied my ass comically in-between the foursome and held up the signed CDs they passed out prior. It may be one of the worst pictures I’ve ever taken, but at least I made Kyle crack his normally (Sky) Blue Steel picture face with a solid smirk. That’s a victory in and of itself.
After pictures, our group is ushered back downstairs. I held back and kept talking to my friend until an employee came up to scan our tickets. It was time to walk down to the steerage cabins with the lowly folk, for the privilege of our meet and greet was at an end. Kyle came down with us and after a scan of the merch tables, he matter-of-factly asked, “You want to see backstage?”
In all the show’s I’ve seen of theirs, I’d never even thought to leverage my pre-existing relationship in order to get behind the curtain. It always felt more appropriate to hang back and be out of the way. When there are dozens to hundreds of people vying for their attention, it’s my natural inclination to hang back and observe. Wait to be invited guy — remember.
“Umm, well yeah.” We followed him, deeper into the Theatre of Living Arts.
Pull Back the Curtain
Behind the stage is a small doorway with three flights of winding stairs. Each flight ending with a black door and a printed piece of paper with the band’s name taped up. We know we’ve reached the headliner’s door when the stairs end and the font on the paper increases tenfold.
It’s a finely fashioned room with an L-shaped-couch, bathroom, shower, body length mirrors, and a stocked fridge. I plop down on the couch and shoot the shit a little while the band piles Lorenzo & Son’s Pizza down their gullets. For those unfamiliar with Lorenzo’s, the slices are larger than a small child. Kyle proceeds to blow my mind by describing to me a Philly Taco. Essentially you take a gargantuan slice of Lorenzo’s, walk it over to Jim’s Steaks one block away and get a cheesesteak. You then proceed to wrap your oversized pizza slice around the steak, and voila, the most delicious of coronaries is created. My compatriot and I perked up as though a concept so simple, but brilliant, was bolted into our brains.
It isn’t long before I start to think of all the sex and drugs that has occurred in this room, three floors above rock’n’roll. This place has been open as a concert venue since 1988, with some of the biggest and most notorious artists passing through it. If these walls could talk, they’d likely be as unintelligible as Keith Richards on a good day. It isn’t long after that that I start to think, “I hope this couch is regularly cleaned.”
Not five minutes later a journalist arrives and the gang is submitting to an interview. We just sit and watch. Being painfully voracious at times, especially when excited or nervous, I admit it’s difficult not to piggy back on some of the answers. Each time I want to contribute an anecdote I remind myself, “no one gives a fuck about what you think…shush.” I’m not completely immune, though, for as soon as the recorder goes off, I throw in my two cents to anyone listening.
The band begins to shuffle about and check their phones as friends and family are reaching out and arriving. They keep asking one another about all-access-passes and how many there are between the four of them. I lock eyes with my plus one and we seem to have the same thought; maybe it’s time to skedaddle. Overstaying one’s welcome is a dangerous faux pas to which we’ve all been guilty at times. As fantastic as it was to get a sneak peek and bullshit with the band, I felt the clock ticking closer to us becoming extra weight. We say our see-ya-later’s and thank them for the hospitality.
Showtime
With over-priced beverages in hand ($6 for a Red Bull — it’s not even one of those oversized hallucination-inducing ones), we make our way to the pit floor. As the venue fills up, I don’t feel like quite the oldest in the room anymore, but I may be the only one over 21 who’s not crowding the bar at this moment. When I finally do venture over there in between the second and third openers, I find the themed cocktail to be adorable. Now, I don’t know for a fact that they named it “Throw Shade” after the headliner’s latest single, but if they didn’t, that’d be one hell of a coincidence.
By the time CRUISR hits the stage, we’re all primed for a good show. The openers were great, the crowd was appropriately pumped, and the beverages were flowing. Let’s do this.
Visible/Audible Growth
When I say something like, “they’re getting better,” I fear it connotes that there was a time when CRUISR didn’t put on a good show. That’s simply untrue. Having been privy to multiple performances over the last few years, small and large, drunk and sober, all playing an arrangement of the same songs, you unwittingly bare witness to the evolution of their stage presence; from just nailing the songs as rehearsed to really playing around and enjoying each three-minute (or so) blast of expression.
Too often when you say, “yeah, my buddy’s in a band,” you leave it at that and move on. Trust me — it’s a more fulfilling experience when you feel compelled to share the music and really pass it on.
Watching them lay out their entire catalogue of music to an undeniably engaged crowd was really wonderful to see. It’s pretty damn impressive and as someone with no claim to the personalities on stage, but having been there peripherally for the last few years, it makes me kind of proud.
So, what did I learn from my backstage adventure?
Besides the facts that I’m an old man in comparison to the average age of the crowd and my complaining about drink prices, what did I take away from this potentially awkward but ultimately wonderful experience?
- Super fans are people, too. Young people.
- I like the band and the individuals, separate of one another.
- The TLA has a nice couch upstairs and thank the rock gods that it comes in (easier to clean) leather.
- A Philly Taco will happen to my stomach before I shuffle off this mortal coil.
Most importantly, though is that I learned it’s okay to let the fandom, pride, and the joy of music in — even if you’re trying to play it cool that you know members of the band.
Just embrace it. You’ll never be cool, Noel, so you might as well have fun.