art exhibitions and teenage angst
November 18th, 2007
This morning I woke up with the most painful throat ever. That and a killer headache. I need throat lozenges desperately. I’ve done all that I can, which isn’t a lot. I had some soup. I turned the heating on. I dressed warmly. I just wanted to go back to bed. And so I did. From 2pm to 6pm. It felt good, in that I-still-feel-like-complete-crap sort of way.
I have a feeling someone might have the words “I told you so” on the tip of their tongue if they knew how I was feeling right now. Maybe I should have worn a coat on that miserable wet day yesterday.
It started off well, 10am, non-hungover 10am. After some breakfast, a bus and a walk back to my own house, I headed out in the rain to the Safehouse Gallery for a book reading by Camel Hartley from her first book of poems, songs and artwork.
The Safehouse is a great space, with its large room and perfect location, away from the Lisburn ‘art gallery’ Road.
The Safehouse Gallery is based in at 25 Lower Donegall Street, Belfast, BT1 2FF (the red door beside Belfast Exposed, before the John Hewitt). The gallery is open from 10am to 4pm Mon to Fri, Sat 12pm to 3pm, Camel’s Exhibition runs until the 25th Nov.
After the quick pint at the John Hewitt, the excitement was starting to build, for I was to see My Chemical Romance in a few hours. Quite different from the art gallery scene, but that’s what I’m all about. Variety.
So in the rain we walked (now joined by a good friend at this point, I don’t often refer to myself as ‘we’), then bussed, to the Kings Hall. To join the line of eager teenagers, all ready to self-harm as soon as the music begins. I had an old cardigan, that I was prepared to cover my face with should the blood come hurtling in my direction like a mass physical recreation of the embodiment of teenage angst.
I was very pleased to see the huge flag hanging from the stage with the words ‘Mindless Self Indulgence‘ a band which I have been listening to for a few years, especially such classics as ‘Stupid Mother Fucker’, ‘Faggot’ and ‘Straight to Video’. I was amazed at the energy of lead vocalist, Little Jimmy Urine, and his constant youthfulness throughout the entire set. Jumping and kicking his super-skinny legs all around him, wearing pink shoes, belt, and other pink bits, much like the picture to the left, spiked hair, a jacket with the words ‘as seen on tv’ and super-flamboyance, he didn’t stand still for more than 3 seconds at a time.
Rude and crude, he tried to piss off the crowd in his typical manor, by laughing at the kids at the front and saying how they can’t go to the toilet if they need to, the ones at the balcony to the side of the stage “are you fucking VIP?”, as well as throwing the occasional plastic glass back at the crowd.
Of course the funniest had to be when he made the mistake that so many others make when their tour makes a stop in Northern Ireland, and it’s lucky that most of the teenage goth/emo kids don’t generally care too much for sectarianism, if they haven’t already decided that religion is not for todays generation of self-harming emo-slash-goth-slash-alternative kids who hang out outside the city hall with their black clothing.
“YAY IRELAND [crowd scream] – This is still Ireland, right? [screaming] – You aren’t part of England anymore are you?” [confused screaming, but screaming all the same]
Someone should really tell bands to be a little careful what they say. It just makes them seem stupid. As the 14 year olds screamed along to whatever Jimmy said, I laughed very hard at the ignorance and hilarity of the situation.
Disappointingly, their set ended, with yet more crushed fans being pulled from the pit of sweat and tears caused by the impatience of those around them. When MCR came to the stage the screams and excitement of the band who’s music has supposedly helped these children through such hard times, each one in black, naturally, to match the sea of black from the crowd.
The first three songs each had pretty bright, hot flames and loud bangs perfectly timed to scare the children, or burst their ear drums. By the third song, lead singer, and generally very angry man, Gerard Way decided it was time to get the crowd to liven up a little, through a little patronising and generally making the kids, who’s confidence is generally lifted through the listening of this music, feel like crap. In a very angry tone, like being shouted at by your own father, he said “I am very disappointed, I can’t hear you” Pacing around the stage, he was either putting on this great act which 14-16 year-olds warm to these days, or was pissed off and tired after a long tour, looking forward to going back to New Jersey.
The vocals were bad, for much of the set I couldn’t hear a word of what he was saying/screaming. I was torn between him giving up and feeling too lazy to sing, he was singing too low, or too high to be heard, or the sound was just bad. At one point the guitarist played three chords, then the sound was reduced dramatically, for those that followed. So maybe it was meant to go like that, though it didn’t sound like that, then when a tech ran on stage to check all the connections between the pedals, it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Later, a tech had to fiddle with the guitar whilst it was being played.
Through all this though, it looked good and the teenagers, including the one beside me whose arms nearly collided with my face, seemed to enjoy it.
But today, I could quit smoking, for my throat feels like… well its just sore. Each time I swallow or think about swallowing it pains me. No going out for a while me thinks. With a coat too…
