pleasures remain. so does the pain.

Last Thursday, as I was getting dressed, I was listening to my shower radio, which is tuned to X96, when a Nine Inch Nails song came on. Since I don't do NIN, I turned that radio off and turned on the clock radio in my bedroom, which is tuned to 101.9 The End, just in time to hear Mister say, "Callers 10 and 19 will win Depeche Mode tickets." When it comes to winning things on the radio, I'm something of a veteran, so I called. After a few busy signals, when the phone was ringing, I had to write down "1019 the end" so that I'd remember what to say when Mister told me that I was caller 19 and asked what station is sending me to see Depeche Mode. When I told Darin that I won, he asked, "Do you even like them?" and he told me that while he'd enjoy spending time with me, perhaps someone else would enjoy the music more, so we decided that he'd stay home with the girls. I drove to Salt Lake on Friday morning to pick up the tickets, and asked a few people if they wanted to go with me (see previous blog post). Carina graciously offered to drive, and picked me up a little before 7:pm.

Now, maybe here is where I should mention the extent of my DM experience. I had the Violator tape. I loved to listen to the live version of "Stripped" on the Say Anything Soundtrack. In high school, when my friend Matthew would see me, he'd occasionally loudly march the beat from "Personal Jesus", or sing, "Sitting in a lawn chair..." to the tune of "All I ever wanted...". I like the newer songs that are played on the radio now. It was when I was 19 and had just moved to Utah when I first heard "Somebody" (after which I promptly threw up).

That' s really it. In this case, I was the one at the concert that die-hard fans hate. But, I liked the band (and I use the term "band" very, very loosely) so much back then, that the price of free tickets was right for me. And, I just wanted to see...

Little did I know.

When Carina arrived at my house on Saturday evening, I looked a wee bit different than I did when she saw me earlier that day at my Mary Kay open house. See, I woke up that day as a curly-haired blond-ish gal. After a fantastic hair appointment, where I told Trisha I was up for a change, I have straight black (but if you look really closely you'll see it's brown) hair in an a-line. Hmm. Just in time for the concert. Coincidence? I felt I'd look the part, although I was fresh out of black lipstick and black nailpolish.

We had a nice ride up to the concert (and Tiffany came with us so she could meet her husband there), but traffic outside of the E Centre was just stupit. We missed The Bravery, which was disappointing, but we did have plenty o' time to visit our friend Lou and get some Mexi-crap food (I had a soft taco-thingey, and although I didn't specify beef or chicken, I still couldn't tell which I had been given) before settling down in our seats.

When the lights went down and the people stood up and started screaming, I saw the silhouettes of five people take the stage. The first sat down at the drum set. The next two took their places at their instruments: computers. Boy #4 came out dressed in all black: a t-shirt, pants, a skirt, and feathered angel wings. He alternated between playing the guitar & singing, and playing the computer & singing. Finally, I noticed Frontman. I don't know his name, so I'm going to call him Freddie Lee Jag-vi Ty-hag. He has been donned such due to his clothing and antics. He came out in black pants and something (jacket? shirt?) with black long sleeves. From where I sat, he was a combination of Rick Astley and French Stewart. During the first song, he removed his jacket and was left with a black vest, a la Scorpions. Vest only lasted a few songs, and for the rest of the show, he was topless. Apparently, his chest was a major theme of the show, as it was shown on at least one of the (if not all) six screens behind the stage for about 95% of the entire show. That's right, six different views of the same person's chest.

Oh yes, the screens. I'll let Carina tell you about the film short that was shown, but you should have seen the set. Stage right contained a big silver sphere. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be a spaceship or a robot or what, but it was very "futuristic". Using the latest in Tron technology, we were treated to a show of blinking red circular lights. And as Freddie Lee was spinning around with the microphone stand/pole, he strutted down the catwalk. That's right. There was a catwalk. Nay, there were two.

It was during the first catwalk prance that I recognized that a lifelong, though expired, dream was being realized for me. See, I was born in 1977, making me a child in the '80's. I wanted so badly to be a part of the teens-in-the-eighties generation, namely, my babysitter Gwen. Gwen loved Bon Jovi. She had great bangs. She had the coolest walkman. Gwen's prom dress was teal with black lace. Did you hear me? Teal with black lace!! I wanted to be Gwen. I wanted to bang my head and live on a prayer and fight for my right to party. Alas, on this night, I had gotten my wish: I, if only for a few hours, was in the eighties and old enough to legally enjoy it.

You'd think that music in this specific genre would perhaps only have fans in one specific genre, but you'd be wrong. Case in point: The couple sitting in the row in front of us. Again, I'll leave this description to Carina, but suffice this: a lumberjack and a by-night bellydancer. Also, think Payson.

Freddie Lee was very generous in having the audience sing the choruses, and I love when that happens. I'd think it would be a rush for the person who penned the words to hear thousands of people singing them. (I know this on the tens level.) They came out for two encores. Encore #1 began with "Somebody", prompting everyone to stick their cell phones in the air, in effect treating the guys to a sea of Latter-Day lighters.

I had a good time. I'd go again, if the tickets were free.

So...what did you do on Saturday night?