RSS FeedCross Canadian Ragweed in Utah & Mustache May
This past Friday I left work a little early with the intention of heading to St. George Utah to see Cross Canadian Ragweed in concert. The plan was to leave the house around 3PM. But, thanks to another lengthy visit from the air conditioning company from hell, we didn’t get on the road until nearly 5PM.
We arrived at the venue at about 8:15 local time. Yes, I forgot to calculate in the time change. We were able to find a spot to park about 50 feet away from the front door. I found this odd, but it would wind up to be just one of the many oddities of concerts in Utah.
We headed to the front door to pick up our tickets at Will Call. We gave the guy our name and he looked us up on a printed sheet and hands us our tickets. We walk past the security guards (a guy in his 50s and his two teen-aged kids) and head inside. This is so different than going to a show in Vegas where they basically give you a body cavity search before entering the arena.
Now that we are inside it’s time to grab a drink. We walk up to the bar and see that there are a couple teenagers working this section, too. Oh, looky there… no alcohol on the menu. Bottled waters were only $1.00 which is unheard of at any concert I have ever been to. We could have ordered a Frazzle, which is like an Icee, but we decided against it.
Now we head toward the stage. That’s a short trip. This entire place can hold no more than about 350 people. But, the opening band is already on stage and there are no more than 100 people in the place. We find a spot up front and settle in. Then, we start to notice it. Almost everybody has snuck in their own alcohol. Some had flasks, but most had something mixed in a water bottle that looked faintly like piss. With no access to alcohol, I was a bit jealous of the piss drinkers.
During the show the lead singer mentions that the management has made it VERY clear that he is not supposed to curse on stage. Uh, OK… He kept to that rule basically all night. Though, he did let slip an F-bomb at one point. Another thing that he spoke about was the fact that it’s “Mustache May.” If you don’t have any facial hair, for the month of May you are supposed to let your mustache grow. If you have a goatee you are supposed to shave the bottom and keep the top. So, in the spirit of being a team player, I’ve shaved half my facial hair and now look like a cross between a 70’s porn star and a used car salesmen. Enjoy!
Cross Canadian Ragweed at HOB:LV
Last night was about the 6th time we’ve seen Cross Canadian Ragweed in concert. I have to say, the definitely DO NOT disappoint!
We got to the show about 10 minutes before the doors opened. While picking up my tickets at will call I asked who the opening act was going to be. The lady informed me that there wasn’t one and that CCR would be playing for about 2 hours. SWEET!
We found a spot on the left side about 4 feet from the stage. We had about an hour to kill so we had a few beers and just basically hung out. The lights finally went down and CCR took the stage. At the end of their first song the lead singer announced that they were audio and video recording the show for a possible something or other. If the video does end up getting used, we’ll most likely be in it as we were right in front of the guy who kept taking shots of the crowd.
The band ended up playing for 2 hours and 20 minutes including playing Primus’ Wynonna’s Big Brown Beaver. But, this is the second show in a row where they have removed Carney Man from their set list which is a bummer.
I was stoked to be able to take my buddy Sean to the show and turn him on to CCR. I had let him listen to my CDs of their music, but they don’t hardly compare to how great the band is live.
Last night’s show did have an extra twist, though. About 20 minutes before the show ended, two young girls (early 20s) pushed their way in front of us and stood between us and the stage. They had obviously been drinking a lot. They immediately started making out. There was a lot of boob grabbing, ass slapping and your basic, run-of-the-mill girl-on-girl tonsil hockey. While it was definitely distracting, the guy standing next to me summed it up perfectly when he said, “Too bad they aint perty.”
Indeed.