from Mackenzie

Journaling Chicago

February 13th was a day I had long anticipated. The Black Dahlia Murder was scheduled to play at the House of Blues with 3 Inches of Blood, Hate Eternal, and Decrepit Birth. It was a month ago I had purchased my ticket and the day is finally here. There has been talk of Decrepit birth not showing and my friends all ditched the show but I've decided I've already payed for my ticket so I'm going by myself.

The doors to the House of Blues open at 5:00 but my class doesn't end until 6:20. I try to play cool during class but anticipation is surging through my veins. Finally it's 6:20 and we're free to go, seems like the only thing I've seen during class was the clock. I walk faster than my normal cool self to my apartment to drop my backpack off, take my coat off so I don't have to pay for a hanger, and run to the redline once I'm outside. Of course I still just miss my train.

I'm off at State and Lake and all I know is that I am to go northwest to find the House of Blues. I'm by myself, cold, and late, so I run like a freak in the wind. I see it right across the bridge and I'm running faster than I figure out I'm going the right way. People are standing outside, watching me as I go for every wrong door, until I finally swallow my pride to ask which one is the one to get in. It's not the same as last time I was here. Last time I drove and lived hours away. I remember my friend who paid for my ticket who I had a big fall-out with. I realize I'm by myself and for the first time in a year he's calling me on my phone. There's no signal inside.

I show my ticket and run up the stairs as I hear the first distorted chord being played by Hate Eternal. I make my way through the crowd, through the tables of people, and down onto the floor. I stood and found myself critiquing Hate Eternal as they performed. I waited for them to start giving me the feeling I go to concerts for. Instead, I watched their flat performance without life or movement. I feel like I'm in a cult or something.

They wrap up their performance, finally, and I walk around trying to find someone, anyone I know. I spot a funny looking guy whose face looks and voice sounds familiar. Soon I realize it's the guy from the Vader show I recently went to and I see what he has to say. This guy makes more body gestures than he talks, and he talks a lot. He's the person in the entire place that I recognize, so I converse with him and his friends until the next band plays. Decrepit Birth didn't show, this I knew, but he tells me that 3 Inches of Blood isn't coming either. I don't like 3 Inches of Blood but that means there are only two bands playing. Why am I here? I want my money back.

I'm still determined to make it a good night. The Red Chord takes the stage. Wait... The Red Chord? They're not scheduled to be here. Instead of standing like, what the fuck, The Red Chord stirs the crowd and I'm pushed around like a ball in one of those pinball games. Their performance was great and full of life, probably even better than when I saw them last summer. Except that I'm by myself with a fat guy stepping on me. Throughout their entire show the fatass's long hair whipped my face. When I tried to move I realized that there were fat guys everywhere who just don't budge. My apologies to go The Red Chord, but during their performance, although it was great, I was mostly deciding that metal heads should either have to choose between being fat or having long hair, never both.

They went out with a bang and the lights came on. I'm getting away from these guys but first I'm asking someone who's next, since The Red Chord was definately not supposed to be here. The guy I ask laughs at me and says I didn't even know who just played. Then he asks me if I know who The Black Dahlia Murder is like I'm a dumbass. That's who's next, glad I asked asshole. Just because I'm not fat and ugly doesn't mean I don't like metal. I walk around again to double-check that there's no one here I know and there isn't. I find that I am the only girl there without a boyfriend and pretty much all of the guys are ugly grunge buckets. I'm not stereotyping, it's definately not every metal show you go to that you see this. I go back to get a spot in the front so I can be close when The Black Dahlia Murder takes the Stage.

The Black Dahlia Murder, now that's a band of metal heads who are easy on the eyes and ears. As soon as they take the stage I lose my breath and footing. People are pushing from the back to get closer and from the front because they're being pushed up against the rail. It's chaos and I love it. People are squeezing people to death, there's a huge pit behind me, and I'm getting hit on the head with body parts from people crowd surfing to the front of the stage. The Black Dahlia's music is under the death metal genre but their beat is thrashy. They played every song I would have asked them to play in the amount of time they had and kept me entertained throughout the entire performance.

Time to walk back to the train. It's cold now but I'm not running; it feels good. As I walk I think about all that had happened at the show. Although Decrepit Birth was the reason I bought the ticket in the first place, even though I was by myself, I still enjoyed the concert.