As soon as I spotted the Weezer billboard before the toll on the Atlantic City Expressway last month I knew we had to go to the show. I'll admit that I sometimes go to concerts that I'm lukewarm about just to have something to do. But this wasn't one of those deals. I was so excited that I imagined everyone else felt the same way and that the show would immediately sell out. So, I was poised and ready at my computer at 10:00 a.m. on the Saturday morning when the tickets first went on sale. I think I got them sometime around 10:06. And then I kept checking the rest of the day, gleefully hoping the show would be sold out so I could feel some sense of accomplishment. It didn't sell out until the Friday before the show, though.
The show was in the Borgata's Event Center, a venue I'd not yet visited. Unlike the intimate Music Box, it turned out to be a huge empty ballroom with no chairs. I had known it was standing room only but, in my usual way, had expected something splashy, in this case a palatial, multi-layered room gleaming with black and chrome. (Silly, I know. I blame such delusions on all that fiction I read.) The bf and I settled in with our drinks, carving out our floor space amidst the masses until Weezer finally emerged onstage to the usual screams and applause.
They played everything you'd expect them to: "Hash Pipe," "Troublemaker," "The Sweater Song" (they substituted the narration parts with funny stuff about Fruit Loops. Or maybe it was Fruity O's), "Perfect Situation," "My Name is Jonas," "Beverly Hills," "Say it Ain't So" (my personal favorite), and, of course, the now ubiquitous "(If You're Wondering if I Want You To), I Want You To," all under the blinking lights of the signature Weezer "W." Is it me, or does it sort of look like the WWF symbol?
It wasn't until they'd returned from their first mock exit that they played "Pork and Beans" and their famed cover of MGMT's "Kids" and Lady Gaga's "Pokerface," all while front man Rivers Cuomo bopped around in a blond wig. After this they shuffled off the stage again, boos and other epithets rising in their wake to urge them to return. The band waited a respectable few minutes or so before reappearing with beach balls. Which could mean only one thing -- "Island in the Sun." I was happy to hear it, "hip hipping" along with everyone else, but couldn't help thinking, "What about "Buddy Holly?"' I am such a nerd sometimes, and a gullible one at that, because of course they, as do all bands, were saving the best for last. That song came out about sixteen years ago, when I was in the sixth grade. This made me feel kind of old. But also nostalgic. For when I first began to appreciate music, that is, not for the sixth grade, which was characteristically hellish.
And then "Buddy Holly" came to a halt and that was it. The room emptied slowly into the glittering casino. Although I'd seen it many times before, I drank it all in, loving all the lights and colors. Then we were outside. My feet were killing me, all crunched up in my impractical round-toed pumps, so the bf gallantly gave me a piggyback ride to the car. If that's not romance, then I don't know what is.
Today I listened to Weezer's Blue album to and from work. And on my lunch break run, overplaying my favorites. Hey, I told you I was a nerd.
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