The Cult of the DegHeads

For most attendees,  the concert experience is only a few hours long. They drive to the venue maybe an hour or two early, get in line, go inside, watch the show, maybe buy a t-shirt or a bumper sticker at the merch table, then go home.

Not us.

The group of friends I mentioned in my last blog post start our concert experience months in advance of the show. We start saving money way ahead of time, sometimes as early as the first paycheck we get after the last tour ends. Because for us, the concert experience isn't only a few hours long. It goes on for days, sometimes even weeks. And, usually, it is all for one band: a Japanese metal quintet known as Dir En Grey.

 The band's name alone is striking enough. Upon first hearing or reading it, most people ask: "what does that mean?"  When this question is put to the band members- vocalist Kyo, guitarists Kaoru and Die, bassist Toshiya, and drummer Shinya- they all have the same response: it doesn't mean anything. The name is simply three words that the five of them thought sounded really cool together. Whatever it means, it doesn't leave your head easily once you've heard it.

Nor does their music. It's exceptional; metal played with skill and creativity, passion, and vision.  Really, there are no words to describe Dir en grey's music. It sounds simultaneously like nothing and everything else out there right now. One simply has to hear it for oneself in order to understand. It's astounding. It is, after all, what brought me together with the people I now consider my closest friends.

But I digress. This is about the concert experience, or rather, the tour experience, for almost none of us go to only one concert (like the potato chip ad: you can't eat just one). The first show where the "camping out" aspect usually becomes a big deal is New York city. People are at the venue lining up for the show sometimes as many as four days in advance. We are among them. We bring blankets and pillows, and backpacks full of clothes and toiletries. We have coolers and bags full of food. One or two people will rent cheap hotel rooms during our "band camp" experience, and will let friends use the showers.

The buddy system was never put to better use: everyone has everyone else looking out for them. We play games and tell stories and draw pictures on pizza boxes to pass the time and stay entertained while we wait. And the majority of us do wait, sleeping there on the sidewalks, for days until the doors open and we go in to see the show. Sure enough, we're all in that front row on the rail every time.

But there's more. So much more to our night than just seeing the show. Firstly, most of us invest a little more in the price of the tickets (okay, so $100 extra is more than just "a little more") for the VIP experience. What this allows, for those willing to pay the extra amount when buying their tickets (which are limited in number to about 50 per show), is bypassing the rest of the line and being granted entrance about one hour before the show. The VIP ticket holders are escorted to a room where the band members are waiting. With the help of a translator (for the band members speak little to no English), the band members have a short Q&A session with the crowd. Some bring gifts for their favorite band member, and are allowed to give them to him. Photos with the band can be taken, and many autographs are signed.

It has become unnecessary to camp out in front of the venues for those of us who buy the VIP tickets, but we do it anyway. It's not even just part of the fun of seeing a Dir En Grey concert; it's part of the culture.

After the VIP experience comes the show, which I'm not even going to begin to describe here because this post is already much longer than I intended. I'll get into the performance on my next entry, I promise. But it happens, and it's remarkable. And after it's over, sure, we usually buy out t-shirts and bumper stickers. But we rarely go home. We either jump in our cars or head to the bus station or airport- whatever mode of transportation is most convenient and economical for the distance we have to travel- and set off for the next venue. And we do all of this all over again, and again for the next show... and again, and again, until we run out of money or the tour ends. Then, and only then, do we go home.

Next time your favorite artist announces a tour, if you're up for it, take some friends along on a road trip like this. If nothing else, it'll give you a story to tell the grandchildren about "the good old days".

The Music That Drives Us

I have come to realize that, in all the various blogs I manage online, not one of them is dedicated to the one thing I love most: live music.

Not enough people genuinely appreciate live music. There is a lot of sweat and skill that go into the production of a live show. The problem I'm seeing at too many concerts these days is too many people in the audience just have no concept of connection to the artists onstage. Too many are just sitting back and watching, when once upon a time nearly every member of the crowd was in their feet, singing or yelling or otherwise "getting into" the music being played for them. Touring musicians go through a lot to give us a couple hours' entertainment each nigh. The shows themselves can be physically and emotionally exhausting for the performers, and there are always the sacrifices of being on the road: sleeping in cramped bus bunks; bad food; grueling schedules of interviews and promotional appearances...the list could go on and on.

Being on the road is not easy. So why do they do it? Simple. For love. For passion.

Over the last six years, I have become caught up in life on the road. Because many of the artists I like are from overseas and do not perform in the U.S. very often, I have taken to following the tours of my favorite performers. In so doing, I found many parallels between my life on the road and that of these performers. I have made a number of friends across the country in my wanderings, and a few of them have been inspired by my actions and now join me regularly when I "hit the road". We keep in contact through online social media (including blogs on Xanga and LiveJournal) when we're not "on tour", and through these contacts have become friends with each others' friends. Our blogs are essential to our unity, and have served as our means of communicating when tours are happening, when we are buying tickets, which shows we want to attend, mapping our routes, and making other travel plans. Our "touring group" now boasts more than 20 members and includes people from the United States, Canada, and Sweden. We have practically become our own subculture in the process.

Because I have been "touring" in the U.S. more extensively than most of us, it has often fallen to me to schedule our trips between shows. This can include mapping routes, making airline/bus reservations, and determining what time we need to leave each venue to arrive at the next to get a good spot in line (most shows we attend are General Admission). About two years into this, it occurred to me that these are skills similar to those of tour managers: so why not pursue this as a career?

This blog is not only for recounting my experiences on the road that eventually led to me deciding to pursue a career in tour management, but to share my stories and experiences with others who maybe have an interest in live music but have never attended a concert; perhaps encouraging a few more to go to some live shows. I hope that my words can inspire you to attend live shows by your favorite artists, for there is no greater connection between artist and fan than at a live show.  This To witness fans at General Admission shows up there on the front rail, singing and dancing and cheering their hearts out while the performers on the stage before them feed off their energy and give it back through their own singing, dancing, and playing...well, it is truly a magical thing.