The Denisonian

Issue date: 10/16/07 Section: Arts & Entertainment

Media Credit: Brian Young Josh Homme, left, and bassist Michael Shuman at the LC on Sunday night.

Media Credit: Brian Young Queens of the Stone Age perform at the Lifestyle Communities Pavilion in Columbus Sunday night.

Hungover and tired as hell, I made my way to Columbus alone. Short on strange illegal drugs, I'd have to make do with caffeine and adrenaline. I was on a suicide mission - covering Queens of the Stone Age in concert.

I half expected to be killed on sight. Instead, the night turned into a blur of drunken Buckeyes and pounding rhythms, with only the occasional clear memory punctuating the haze.

Luckily, the door crew mistook me for some kind of journalist. Going with the flow, I stumbled inside some sort of dimly lit Gehenna. No fires here, mostly the usual rock club ambience - too many dark t-shirts, not enough showering.

I leaned against the ramp on the left side of the stage, watching Wolfmother fans jostle with cap-wearers. Some woman was interested in my camera. "How do you start taking pictures for bands?"

"I'm just press," I said. I eyed the openers, just now emerging onto the stage.

She smiled and moved in a bit. "That's amazing. I always wanted to be a photographer."

I gestured toward the opening act and spoke impatiently. "I should get closer - I need some shots of the Black Angels."

Talking my way past the first line of security on the side - the photo pass helped - I settled in to watch the Angels. Their live set played to their recorded strengths - repetitive grooves, unusual melodies, and atypical guitar freakouts. The sound seemed to come in through the skin, seeping down to the bone.

Thirty blurry photographs and ten songs later, the crowd sounded appreciative, but ready for the headliners.

I took my time making it over to the other side of the stage. Mustering the little logic my scrambled brain could offer, I'd decided to start here and work my way back over. The problem was that press photography was limited to the first three songs, so quick work was in order.

By my new spot on the right side of the stage, two security personnel huddled in discussion. After one left, I leaned in and asked the other what the problem was. "Some kids in front of center stage keep throwing change up there."

I shot him a startled look. "Change? I've heard of full bottles, but change?"

He nodded. "Yep, it's a new one on me too. We'll have to pull them out of there if they start up again."

Clearly, the tension was building - of the violent as well as anticipatory sort. Tonight's show was supposed to be last night's show, as a matter of fact. Queens of the Stone Age lead singer Josh Homme suddenly came down with a sickness on Saturday afternoon - skepticism abounded - and having to settle for a Sunday night show instead wasn't going over smoothly.

Just like that, they enter. Controlled madness. The shrieks of guitar feedback and fellow humans. Josh Homme, all coiled energy and hip movements. Strobe lights and deafening sound.

In the midst of all this, songs were played - some new, some old. The crowd ate up old favorites like "Go with the Flow" and "In the Fade." For my money, the truly terrifying stuff was new. Queens tore through "Turnin' on the Screw" and "Sick, Sick, Sick" while I clung to the back wall.

Only one thing other than the music could penetrate my mental fog: the striking blonde staffer lurking by the stage. Drunk after drunk made a pass at her - inevitably, I felt compelled to join them. Head spinning from the still-churning echoes of the band's final chord, I pushed my way through the crowd. I smiled and thanked her for letting me past earlier to snap some photos. She was having none of it.

Politely but firmly dismissed, deafened and tired as hell, I made my way back to Denison alone.

Brian Young is The Denisonian's music critic.

Page 1 of 1

Article Tools