At Least They're Committed

There was some confusion in line at the Walgreen’s, what with the lady in front of me switching to a newly opened register but dropping a magazine and ducking to retrieve it and the old bat (there, I used it again) at my back snapping, “Are you going to go?” while I waited for the first woman to collect the magazine from the floor in front of me. She expect me to kick the old gal out of the way, or what? No matter, when I got to the checkout, I plopped down four cans of dog food and the Jack Skellington doll and Nightmare jelly beans impulse purchase and as I stared trying to organize my merchandise, the clerk said, “Did you go to that?” I looked up and she motioned to my T-shirt. I blinked a couple times — this woman was my age — and enthusiastically said, “Yes! It was awesome, they were awesome!”

It was and they were. It was the third time I’d seen Avenged Sevenfold in concert at Fiddler’s Green and they rocked it, as always — this in spite of the altitude (or was it the overabundance of pot?) making it tough for M. Shadows to breathe. Any intermittent and momentary breathing/vocal difficulties by Shadows were joyfully and enthusiastically filled by 10,000 followers who knew every word and, despite willing themselves to simply listen and bask, could not help but join the band and the other revelers and sing, wail or scream along.

Buried Alive, it seems, not only resonates on a deep spiritual and emotional level with me, but with most of the Avenged fans: You could hardly hear Shadows over the din of our voices. I was in heaven — well, a little piece of heaven, but not like the song because that would be weird. The words, the warnings, the parables, the faith comforting, cajoling, soothing the lost and not-so-lost young souls who play a pivotal role in our society and in our world, but are so easily judged and so oft overlooked.

(I finally grasped Shadows’ new look as paying homage to Axl and Guns and Roses. I like A7X a great deal more than G’n’R, but I do respect the influences. G’n’R, Metallica and even Dio dot the nuances of the Hail to the King album. Iiiii like it.)

“Did you go to both days?” the clerk cut into my thoughts. No, just one, I said.

“We were mostly interested in Avenged Sevenfold,” I explained. “But Volbeat blew us away, too. I liked their radio cuts OK, but their performance and album cuts totally took our appreciation to a new level.”

The clerk listened with rapt interest. “I wanted to go to the two-day concert in Grand Junction,” she said. I concurred, said I’d wanted to see Seether and Korn at Rock Jam, but the minivan broke down, then the air conditioner and so I couldn’t afford to go anywhere. She told me Korn was her favorite, but the band wasn’t able to show up in the end — which I’ve since learned was a matter of speech, that they were physically there but their performance was not. I said “Falling Away from Me” is one of the greatest videos of all time and she agreed. She has a Korn tattoo on her left shoulder, she told me, turning and pointing at the spot but not at the tat because she was wearing her official, modest, blue Walgreen’s button-down shirt. I told her that rocked and I hope to see them soon, that I’d seen Seether in concert and loved them, but never had seen Korn.

Realizing we were having way too much fun chatting, I glanced back at the impatient old bat who was still behind me in line. Yet if our conversation had miffed her even more, you couldn’t tell. Instead she’d been staring at my shirt, complete with Deathbat, and had taken a step or two back, appearing more fearful than angry. I chuckled then smiled and nodded thank you to the clerk — did I mention she was my age? — and was on my way.