Music Matters

By Ryan Evans

I’ve finally realized that this music journalism business isn’t all glitz and glamour; it also involves countless let- downs, ignored calls and neglected emails. But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that one of the greatest bands in history could get stuck in traffic on the Philadelphia Expressway and destroy my opportunity for an interview. OK, I’m being a little sarcastic, but I have a right. Let me explain …

Boy Sets Fire, one of hardcore’s best and most powerful acts, was set to play the nearly-rotting Trocadero Theatre in Chinatown in downtown Philadelphia on Friday, Oct. 25. After much pursuing, phone-calls, emails and four-letter words, I finally had an interview set up with BSF lead vocalist Nathan Gray. Gray is an incredible lyricist, and he’s always been very politically outspoken along with the rest of the band; something I respect. They donate a lot of the profits from their music to the Center for Constitutional Rights, and various organizations trying to help people that have been oppressed or have experienced injustice. So naturally, I was excited to be sitting down with the man. Needless to say, like so many things in this life, it all fell apart at the last minute.

I pulled up to the Troc well before door time, with my personal photographer (and girlfriend, but that’s a secret) Lindsay, and walked into the lobby to see if the band was ready for me. The girl behind the ticket window was less than helpful; she seemed surprised that someone was "here to meet the band," but I was just surprised that she was able to form complete sentences and dress herself in the morning. Finding no help from her, I decided to call the tour manager, Tre McCarthy on his cell phone, and see if he would come out front and bring me into the building. "Sure, I’d love to … but we’re not there yet. We’re stuck in traffic; we’ll be there really soon; give me a call back," he said. I figured that would be fine. I gave them 45 minutes to get to the venue before I called them back.

By this time, the sun was going down, the temperature was dropping and a security guard was approaching us. He let us know that the Troc has a (stupid) policy, that no one is allowed on the block until half an hour before the doors open; after about five minutes of trying to explain to him that we were scheduled for an interview with the band, he politely allowed us to sit out front of the venue. I was surprised by his manners, since most of the security guards I’ve encountered in my time have made Neanderthals look like the Royal Family. Anyway, as the story goes, Lindsay and I stood outside the venue in the blistering cold amongst hundreds of annoying teenagers who argued about "What is Hardcore?" and most definitely tried desperately to dress the part. Until the time the doors opened, I continued to call McCarthy, and every time I called he gave me the same answer: "We’re not there yet, but give us a little more time." Talk about discouraging.

So into the venue we went, with no interview to look forward to. But enough about that. Let us talk about what is truly important –– the bands that played that night.

Opening the show was Time In Malta; they looked a little bit shaky. Maybe it was the way lead singer Todd Gullion was constantly dancing around and clapping like a cheerleader. It was difficult to keep a straight and serious hardcore face with this guy hopping around like a chicken. Worse yet, Lindsay insisted on doing it throughout the rest of the night. My head still hurts from rolling my eyes so much. Now don’t get me wrong, I like Time In Malta a lot; their record "A Second Engine" is pretty good, and they write songs about non-violence and point to Martin Luther King, Jr. as one of their inspirations. However, they look stupid on stage, and there is no nice way to go about saying that.

Next up was one of my favorite bands, California’s own Atreyu. I expected that they would put on a good show, but they went well above and beyond that expectation. By the time Atreyu took the stage, Lindsay and I were in the pit, ready to get our teeth kicked out, which is all right with us. The thing about Atreyu that impresses me is that they’re just a bunch of kids. They’re no older than any college kids, but they write technically and lyrically mature music that should impress anyone that even claims to know a drop about hardcore. It was Atreyu’s first time in Philly, and lead vocalist Alex noted that during the day, he went right down the street to get inked at a tattoo parlor; yes, Philly is a good town. Once again, I must mention that Thursday, Nov. 7, Atreyu is playing the Chameleon Club, and you should go see them. If all works out, I’ll be interviewing them for a future issue of this paper, so keep your eyes open.

Boy Sets Fire was next up on the bill, and they arrived at the Troc mere minutes before they had to play. In true grassroots hardcore fashion, the band demanded that the barriers separating the crowd from the stage be taken down, and the crowd proceeded to, naturally, rush the stage. That was a bit painful. No, scratch that, it was extremely painful. The last time I had that much teenage weight placed on my frail body was at that Backstreet Boys concert I went to last summer. Just kidding. Seriously.

After moving to the side of the crowd, and listening to my favorite Boy Sets Fire song "After the Eulogy," Lindsay and I decided to call it a day. Although there was the stabbing disappointment of missing out on my scheduled interview, we did experience a blistering set from Atreyu, and that equally hilarious and disturbing dancing/clapping thing that Time In Malta’s lead singer kept doing. And just as a side note, Lindsay is still doing it, nonstop, even as we speak. Now that’s hardcore.