Confetti and Dust at the Trocadero, Philadelphia: A Concert Review.

Hey, all. What? I enjoy saying "hi" to my imaginary readers. Anyway, I found this thing I wrote a while back while I was in school. It's an assignment to write a piece describing something "you had to be there review" for, I guess. Anyway, I think it turned out pretty well, and it was one of the few good marks I got in that class. Teacher, although spawn of the devil himself, was one of the best I had ever had. One of the few types of writing I happened to good at, as well.

So, without further ado, I present to you:

Confetti and Dust at the Trocadero, Philadelphia: A Concert Review

-It was opened in 1870. And when you step inside, you realize, it certainly smells like it was. It's small, cramped, and there are too many people floating around, drinks and cigarettes in hand. Other living bodies line the decrepit brick wall, shoulder to shoulder, bopping away to a DJ set up in the corner. He spins one song, then the promotional song for ancient building you're in.

Welcome to the Trocadero. You may not know anyone there, but the sudden closeness, as claustrophobic as it is, is oddly comforting. These people are here to see the same thing you are (and if you're old enough/lucky enough, to see that same thing straight once you've hit the bar.) Tonight, though, the bar is not where it usually is. It's behind the black curtain that leads to the balcony of the old theatre part of the Troc. People are sitting at tables that have been specifically set up for that night, casually drinking and talking; they're waiting for the show to start. The original bar is being used to sell the band merchandise for the three bands there tonight.

You saunter over, perusing the merch goods with your eyes. Be aware, though, of who's selling it. On many occasions, it's actually one of the band members. This night, the bassist for the headlining band, Kill Hannah, is selling tee shirts, pins, buttons, ties, etc, all with the Kill Hannah logo: a heart in a sniper scope. He's sporting a shirt from one of the opening acts, Clear Static, who's neon logo is set up above the stage.

It glares brightly at you and is quite possibly the most annoying thing in the room besides the smoke and dust smell. It illuminates the stage quite well, with absolutely no help from the 3,000 watt bulbs that are strung up next to it and around the stage. Rugs adorn the stage, and a patterned back-drop hangs by a thread above the drum kit. A few of the roadies are running back and forth across the old wooden platform, and they stop occasionally to talk to the familiar groupies from previous shows.

Two of these groupies appear to be younger than the (what appears to be) 18 and up crowd that is present. They're decked out in all Kill Hannah gear, complete with black and pink striped socks. They're chatting amiably (albeit one-sidedly) with one roadie, who doesn't look entirely thrilled to see them. Somewhere during the show, you end up next to them, squished against the wall. You begin to chat about the band, and you learn they've been on "tour" with the band themselves, following them from city to city.

You excuse yourself to get an overpriced bottle of water, thinking about how sad that existence must be, and when you return, they're no longer there. Instead, you begin to chat up the people next to you, who appear to be about your age, and find yourself soon exchanging Myspace URLs and AIM screen names. In the process of writing one down on your hand, turns as the lights begin to lower and the first band, who's lead singer has orange and green hair, come onstage.

Several sets and a sore throat later, you emerge out of a cloud of smoke and dust and out into the not necessarily cleaner Philly air. As you look down at the list of other Kill Hannah/Clear Static fans personal info you have written on your hand, and then back up at the vaudevillian sign that hangs above the establishment, harkening back to what it was originally used for, you can honestly say that you probably wouldn't have met these people through the internet alias' they use.

The same old theatre magic is still in use today. Thank you, Trocadero.

Thank you.

For those of you interested in The Troc, here's the website: http://www.thetroc.com/