Why have the assholes got to ruin it for the rest of us?
Last night, only two songs into Linkin Park's set list at the Woodlands Pavilion, a young woman directly in front of me, who had clearly drank at least half her weight in alcohol, stood up on her seat. For a few minutes, she waved her hands high in the air, pounding her fists along with the bass and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. Then she fell.
It could have been worse, mind you. She caught her footing at the last moment and, given her level of intoxication, seemed in such a daze that she might not even remember it. Promptly, a member of security made his way through the crowd, tapped the girl on the shoulder and told her not to stand on her seat.
Said security member also told a young boy of only six or seven years that he too had to get down from his seat, making it impossible for him to see the stage. The boy's father, standing directly to his right, looked aghast. But rules are rules, and they complied. Then something happened that surprised me.
His burly, no-nonsense looking guy, pulled a Captain Morgan stance and set the young boy on his knee and wrapped his arm around the boy's back for support, giving him a view of the stage. The rest of the crowd, many of whom had seen the incident, kept watch for security and packed in tightly around the two, in hopes of hiding them from security's view.
If this is the true caliber of Linkin Park fans, count me in as someone who wants to keep their company.
Last night, the California-based six piece performed an eclectic mix of old and new cuts alike, giving every member of the sold-out crowd, both fledgling and seasoned fans, a reason to shout.
2003's Meteora was the last Linkin Park album I ever bought, but I haven't been living under a rock, so I was familiar with most of the repertoire. It's crazy to think that the band has been in existence for more than a decade and has arguably still not peaked.
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Watching the fan's faces as they seamless strung together songs from 10 years ago with current chart-toppers was something to be heard, and while the band is often criticized for being too mainstream, some of the cuts off Living Things sound like a throwback to 2000's Hybrid Theory, reincorporating an element of rage and angst that was missing from 2010's A Thousand Suns.
Before Linkin Park, Incubus had the stage. Due to the heaviest traffic I've ever dealt with en route to the Pavilion, coupled with a mix up regarding tickets, I only saw their finale, "Tomorrow's Food," and heard a handful of hits like "Drive" as I waited outside the gates.
Maybe next time, Mr. Boyd.
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(Ed. Note: Boyd would make the king of gaffes last night, bellowing "Hello Dallas!" to the decidedly Houston crowd. The incident exploded onto Twitter within seconds.)
Personal Bias: I went for Incubus and Mutemath but missed almost all of both bands. C'est la vie...
Overheard in the Crowd: Lots of screaming. You could feel the venue shake.
Random Notebook Dump: I hope that girl had a ride home.