When last we tuned into this soap opera, I’d just left the Meet ‘n’ Greet tent to get into the actual Greek Theater through the VIP entrance. (By now the VIP “oooooh!” of it had vanished.) Had fun with the people at security, as I can always tell what kind of company it is by how loose the employees are. I thought they were going to run the magic. . . er, magnetic wand over me a few more times just to keep the fun going, which wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but instead I went in and climbed to the top of the seats, where I got this view:
But after that it was more waiting around. I don’t know at what time was the Meet ‘n’ Greet at other venues, but I have a sneaking suspicion it was earlier here so that Lindsey could spend time with her El Lay peeps. I didn’t know till the next day that iJustine and Superwoman were there, which would have gone a long way in my quest to take photos with all the princesses from Cassie’s Disney video. (Got Cassie’s a month ago, and obviously Lindsey. Where you at, Ro?) Also in attendance was Whitney Avalon, whom I regret missing even more, speaking of princesses and their rap battles.
Having seen the set schedule from a cheerful security guard, I knew how much time I had to kill before heading to my seat. The burrito was still doing its job of holding hunger at bay, but I was thirsty, so I got a $5 bottle of Sprite. . . the worst decision I’ve ever made, but more on that later. In addition to security guards and actual police, I spent a while chatting with the Mercedes-Benz guy, who once he learned I didn’t drive took off his salesman persona. As always I find it interesting what people visiting El Lay want to see while they’re in town; his choice was Malibu and Universal Studios. We talked about several other cities we’d both been to, but that didn’t waste nearly as much time as I’d hoped.
Eventually I could stall no longer and made it to my seat, but not before showing my ticket to prove I belonged in that section; apparently the VIP laminate on my chest wasn’t enough. The good news was obviously the view from the second row, but the bad news was that these weren’t permanent comfortable seats, but rather basically folding chairs. Hello, here I come, backache! To my amusement I found myself seated next to the boisterous guys from Utah whom I’d shared a table with at the Meet ‘n’ Greet, but any hilarity that might have ensued quickly vanished when I took that ($5) bottle of Sprite out of my backpack and twisted the cap. . .
Yep, you guessed it: the soda exploded. The sugary liquid did not get into my hair, but most of my arms, the bag, and especially my left boot got drenched. By the end I might have gotten $2 worth of that damned stuff. And it took a solid hour for janitorial staff to come over and help with the sticky floor, by which time it had all dried, of course.
Luckily the opening act, Cellogram, made me forget all that, at least for a while. My initial thought was that these musicians were a variation of The Piano Guys, but this cellist is even more crazy! (In a good way, of course.) And it was a wild man banging on the cajon rather than a sophisticated-looking individual behind a piano.
I hate spotlights.
I can’t remember a duo ever having this much energy, and fun. The highlight had to be the finale, part of which featured Zeppelin’s Kashmir, where they were joined by a lady I quickly figured out was the Evanescence guitarist. She was a bit of a ham but always willing to play along with the shenanigans, especially lying on her back along with Dave Eggar—the cellist—for some final jamming. Those of you who saw my blog about my favorite guitarists—yeah right, check that out in the archives—might remember I had a bunch of female shredders on the list, and just like that here’s another one.
So, what to do in between acts, other than cleaning up my seat, my arms, and my shorts? Wander around to see if I could spot anyone I knew. And did I ever! Hey, Phelba in the house! Luckily she’s a lot calmer and nicer when Lindsey’s not around.
Didn’t take long for Evanescence to come out, and I can’t describe much here because I was in the moment. I remember my faves—Bring Me To Life, My Heart Is Broken, My Immortal—but otherwise I just let Amy’s voice wash over me. Of course I couldn’t let the moment of Lindsey joining in for Hi-Lo pass by, though I was expecting her from the other side, so she managed to surprise me anyway.
Those of you who know me would not be surprised to find I instantly fell in love with Jen the guitarist. I found myself looking at her rather than Amy a lot of the time—hey, I already know how beautiful Amy is—and was really surprised to find her with her hands in the air, almost like she was conducting, but I knew better. Was she actually playing a Theremin? I couldn’t really hear it, but what else could she be doing? (Since then I’ve seen a video where she shows off her Theremin-playing skills, so yeah, although I’d never seen such a modern-looking instrument.)
So this was the best I could do as far as Amy is concerned. In case you didn’t see it the first time, I REALLY hate spotlights!
Eventually it was time for the encore, and I had the phone at the ready, because I knew that in the past Lindsey had joined in here. Not this time; instead Dave Eggar came down from the orchestra with his highly maneuverable cello to play the lead string part. Since I’d enjoyed his set, I did not stop recording.
So even though I came for Lindsey, and Evanescence was more of the cream icing on the cream cake, I still felt wrung out after that set. Hopefully the break in between would be bigger this time. Ended up talking to the guy at the VIP entrance, who remembered me because of the shirt I had on. . . remember that from the photo in the previous blog? As I said, you get a good feeling for a venue by the way the employees act with you; felt like we were long-time buds, and he didn’t laugh at my exploding soda too much.
Okay, finally we get to what you’ve all been waiting for. . . or rather, it’ll be on the next installment. I’m not really that cruel, but then Lindsey’s concert figures to have the most to write about, so it makes sense. . . really, I’m not cackling and evilly twiddling fingers or anything like that. . . swear!