That Cute Frontman

Face it; most girls can't deny a good-looking frontman.

What I don't get is how they can still be all over a frontman whom they knew to be arrogant.

Take The Click Five as an example. Before this, I thought they were all amiable boys. But having attended their showcase at Hard Rock Cafe at the November 7th (story can be read here, on the sidebar of my main blog), as well as the autograph session at Tower Records in KLCC a day before, I changed my mind.

It was apparent that Kyle Patrick was an arrogant jerk. He didn't seem to acknowledge the fans (maybe some, but he was cocky to most), unlike Joey Zehr (drummer) and Ethan Mentzer (bassist), who shook hands with the fans. Joe Guese (lead guitarist) was being shy and smiling with the fans. Ben Romans (keyboardist) was being the serious musician, which appeared to be funny, rather than rude, since everyone who talked to him complimented his attitude.

Later on, a friend of mine found out from certain sources that Kyle Patrick and Joey Zehr were rather demanding; telling them to make sure the fans were informed that no hugging, no touching and no photo should be involved.

That part was understood, but what disappointed me was how rude the sources said they were. But while the two demanded for this and that (Kyle apparently being the worse of the two), the other three kept quiet.

On the contrary, The Star's article on The Click Five, Built To Thrill, praised Kyle for his endless enthusiasm.

True enough, despite his attitude, he was a passionate musician who wears his heart on his sleeve, singing songs that may seem shallow and teeny-bopper, yet can trigger tears because of his intensity and passion.

What I beg to differ though, is how 'robotic' bassist Ethan Mentzer was during the concert, as proclaimed by the reporter. If not twice, then he at least smiled at me once during the showcase. He was also making eye contact with the rest of the crowd.

Apparently, the reporter said he only smiled a total of three times, and even appeared irritated. (Reality check, could it be the reporter who triggered his agitation?)

As for Joe, he had his face hidden most of the time, but he was definitely caring about the fans, especially ones in the front who were being pushed and shoved (like me). Ben was definitely enjoying all the attention he was getting from the fans, and from where I was standing, Joey was blocked by Kyle for almost the entire night.

Conclusively, however, the showcase was quite a success, except the bruises I had on my shins after that.

And I'd definitely go for the concert which they promised to be having next year.

Carmen.

Op-Ed - Issue #221

This is the story from the Op-Ed column of Alternative Press issue #221, December 2006.

I feel like sharing it with whoever is reading this now, because not only has it moved me, I also find it inspiring.

Op-Ed
Musicians Speak Out

Teenage ostracism breeds two things: Bad high school mixers and good punk music. Steve Neary - frontman of the Boston punk outift, Far From Finished - knows this well. Born with only one hand faced with years of confused, disapproving stares from classmates, he found solace in his stereo speakers and a scene that didn't judge him for his flaws.

(His story starts here:)

I wouldn't dare compare my handicap to anyone else's. For the most part, my road has been smooth. I don't need to co-opt anyone else's struggle or pain. As I grew up in the suburbs of New York City, my parents warned me of the uglier side of humankind, and that I would need tough skin to survive. Back then, that seemed like no big thing. I thought it would be easy. But I was naive.

Things started to change when I was seven or eight years old. I remember one day looking down and saying to myself, "Holy shit! I have one hand!" Not that I didn't know I was missing my right hand. I just never really saw myself like that. It suddenly freaked me out. I was scared. It made me paranoid.

My real problem, however, wasn't my lack of an appendage. It was that I never really knew how to talk about how it made me feel. In fifth grade, this leaking frustration started to rear its ugly head. I remember [this] kid - we'll call him "Todd" (that seems like a fitting name for a prick) - started joking around and calling me "Stumpy." Maybe fucking around was his attempt at friendly ribbing. Maybe he was actually digging into me. Nonetheless, shortly after the words left his mouth, I (a 90-pound kid at the time) smacked his head off a brick wall. Back then, I felt bad about it. But now I don't care. At the very least, maybe he gained a little character out of the incident.

Kids weren't always like that, though. Sometimes they would simply ask what happened to my other hand and I would give them well-rehearsed answers like: "That's the way God made me", "It doesn't hurt" or "Look! Touch it!" But really it was hurting me. Deep down, I hated that my arm was the first thing people saw when they looked at me. I wanted desperately to be known for something else. There's a lot of pressure to fit in as you grow up. You want to look cool, be part of the "in" crowd. For me, that pressure was like a daily mental breakdown. During each interaction with my peers, I feared the worst. I couldn't be vulnerable at all - not my clothes, what I said, anything. It was difficult. Making friends became a chore. I couldn't hang out with the cool kids because I couldn't act like them. I wasn't like them and never could be.

And then I heard the Sex Pistols.

By the end of the first verse of "Problems", I was completely drawn in by the lyrics and the urgency in Johnny Rotten's voice. I love it. I knew I had found a special thing. Something about it felt right. I immediately took to punk rock. Unlike high school, it felt safe.

At first, I didn't know why I seemed to get along so well with the punks, or why I was so attracted to the punk lifestyle. The only thing I knew was that they looked and acted different, and I wasn't intimidated at all. Befriending freaks and castaways was the safest route. And it would be the most clarifying thing I had ever done. These people seemed way more normal to me than the rest of the world. I couldn't believe my eyes. There was no fitting in, no social ladder to climb. I could just be myself and that was good enough. It didn't matter what I looked like.

When I was 15, I started out Far From Finished with a couple of buddies and immediately knew it was more than just a band name. The sounds would forever forecast my future and ultimately every decision I would make.

So, here I am, 23 years old and finally not afraid to be me. I'm able to get up everyday and step out in front of a crowd of people who are hungry for all the same things I was - and still am. I was once dismissed like every other kid that doesn't fit the mold, but through example, support and the endless inspiration that comes from punk, I've become something I never thought I could be: A role model. Could that be right? How could I, a kid who spent so many years being unsure of himself, be something so definite and secure to others? It can only be described as surreal when kids come up to me and convey how much our music and this band meant to them how I've been (gasp) an inspiration.

Through punk, and specifically this band, I want to show my disapproval of what is going on around me, and to finally be seen as myself. It's not what we're missing - everyone lacks something. It's that we're the only ones to hold ourselves back.

Note: Please inform me should I miss out some words, or made any spelling errors.

Carmen.

As Reviewed By A Teenager

I'm not going to review them the way magazines do by rating the artiste/band.

Instead, I want to write how much a certain song mean to me, how much of a remedy it can be and even if the situation is not related to me, I want to try to help people (possibly teenagers) who read my blog to help themselves through music.

You might think that the whole idea is stupid, because you have the mindset that a) someone as young as I am can't have gone through that much to know how to help others and b) music is not strong enough to help someone to stand up.

But that's your mindset.

I think that music has the capability to help people emotionally and mentally.

Because I've been through that phase well enough to know.

Although I haven't come across any yet, I'm absolutely sure that there are people who happen to be on the same boat as I am.

So if music has helped me that way, why not try to help others? I may not make a huge difference, but I'm contented if I can help even a teenager or two.

Carmen.

The Underdogs

New bands, especially those who receive no recognition from the media and whatnot, are always the underdogs.

And if I have the chance to check them out, I would.

If I have the chance to buy their CDs, I would.

If I can even download their songs online, I would.

I have always been more interested in bands whom many have not heard of, compared to those whose songs have been overplayed (but that doesn't mean I don't listen to bands on the radio at all).

Somehow, living where I am doesn't give you too many a chance to check out these bands. My only resort is to download their songs, and if that fails, then I'm sorry to say that the band can only be left unheard.

Now, you probably don't think the same way, i.e. you probably prefer listening to songs which you can discuss about with your friends, or something everyone else think is cool.

But if you really flow that way, then why are you here? Because no matter what I say, you won't have given any of these bands a chance anyway.

I for one know that I'm not such an influential person, but if I am, then it's a "whoa".

But one should really give these bands a listen, because you never know - there's possibility that they are even better than bands or artistes you hear nowadays.

P.S. I don't have much a thing against bands, more to (sellout) solo artistes who gain fame through songs with mindless lyrics. I'm biased and crude that way.

Carmen.

Crazy Enough To Do This

Having moved from one blog to another, I still have two more on hiatus. So starting a new one is absolutely a paradox of an idea, but I'm up for anything insane. Even if it means taking the roller coaster of death in the movie Final Destination 3. I'd still do it.

I have no particular theme for this blog, as in what my posts should be based on. The first thought that approached my mind was music.

Yes, I can brag on and on about a band I like, then criticize ones I dislike to no end. But, honestly, what's the point?

I might even get sued.

But maybe, just maybe, I'll let my thoughts run wild and see what I can do with this lil blog. After exams, and I'll be back, blogging nonsense "like a hardcore Microsoft nerd."

Carmen.