MUSE in concert: the full story part two

So, I got to the stadium 3 hours before Muse opened, and there were already tons of people there. I got a decent spot, but would still have been screwed during the actual show if I was shorter. Only people my height or taller could really see the band much of the time. Others just got glimpses.

The warmup acts were: Kasabian, White Lies, and DeVotchKa.

At 9:29pm, the stage was flooded with masked people, waving flags and signs with lyrics from “Uprising” – it looked like the movie footage from a revolution. Then, as the music started, they left the stage, revealing MUSE.

Main set:
"Uprising"
"Supermassive Black Hole"
"New Born"
"Map of the Problematique"
"Butterflies and Hurricanes"
"Guiding Light"
"Interlude" + "Hysteria"
"Nishe" + "United States of Eurasia"
"I Belong to You"
"Bliss"
"Feeling Good"
"MK Jam" + "Undisclosed Desires"
"Resistance"
"Starlight"
"Time Is Running Out"
"Unnatural Selection"
Encore 1:
"Soldier's Poem"
"Exogenesis: Symphony Part 1 (Overture)"
"Stockholm Syndrome"
Encore 2:
"Take a Bow"
"Plug In Baby"
"Man with a Harmonica" + "Knights of Cydonia"

Several of the most memorable moments:

During “Undisclosed Desires,” the band was on a spinning, UFO type of platform which rose 20’ above the audience and then could retract back to the stage.
Confetti and streamers exploded into the sky for the climactic moment of “Guiding Light”
For “Soldier’s Poem,” Matt had the audience hold up their lighters and cell phones, turning the entire stadium into a massive star field.
During “Exogenesis Symphony,” a UFO type balloon hovered above the crowd, to the right of the stage, and an acrobat fell out of it and then spun suspended below the balloon for the rest of the song.

Matt had an amazing blue LED suit and red LED glasses for “Take a Bow.” Both were hella cool. He then rode the giant rising circular platform.

I recorded bits and pieces of most of the songs, but only “Starlight” in its entirety. My plan had been to post “Starlight” to Facebook, but for one reason or another, it was one of two videos that accidentally got deleted. So instead, you’ll just have to listen to the song and know I’m thinking of you.


Look at my photos to see how the stage was set up and how lighting was used. Incredible work with projectors, lights, and hazers.

By far, this was the most exciting and most well performed concert I’ve ever been to. I’ve seen plenty of amazing bands, but MUSE delivered a flawless rock show. I will never forget that night.

MUSE in concert: the full story part one

As you ought to know, MUSE is my favorite band, and has been since I discovered them two and a half years ago. Seeing MUSE live in concert was the top item on my bucket list. And with a number of successful albums already released, it’s only a matter of time before the band breaks up and my chance to see them is gone.
With the release of “The Resistance” last September, I knew they would be touring this year. Problem was, they were going to be in Seattle while I was in the UK… I was not happy.

So I decided to do something about it. Looking over their tour schedule, I saw that they were going to have a show in Paris around the time I planned on traveling in continental Europe. And tickets were going on sale in only a couple days. Perfect!
But I didn’t figure that somewhere around 40,000 tickets would be sold in less than 8 hours. So by the time I woke up (given the 9 hour time difference), they were all gone. Panicked, I searched online and found some tickets available from a second hand source. Fine, so I bought one in mid-November.
After going about a month without hearing from the company, I started to get paranoid, so I did a bit of research. Turns out, the company was a fraud and I was out a ticket.
I waited to buy another ticket until I got to London. This one I bought from getmein.com, which is associated with Ticketmaster and so is more legit. Expensive, but I HAD to go to this show.

Until I actually had it in my hand, I was going to be paranoid about this concert. Starting in January, I waited for the ticket… and I waited… and I waited.
Eventually my time in London was over and I headed for the continent, so I changed the delivery address to that of my friend, Pidge. The idea was that Pidge, in London, would receive the ticket and send it to me.

But the ticket didn’t come.

Finally I reached Paris, still no ticket. Depressed, I still waited, but by Thursday it was too late for the ticket to get to me in time.
Then, Friday morning, I awoke with a new determination. I’m a BAMF, aren’t I? I’m a dude that makes thing happens. So I decided to go to the stadium anyway and buy a ticket off of someone.

Luckily before I left, I got a message from Pidge: “The ticket just arrived.” I told him where to send it, and that cost was no issue. An hour later I get another message. Apparently sending it to Paris overnight was going to cost 120 pounds, so instead he had given it to three Americans traveling to Paris on the Eurostar, which should be arrive around 18:00.
So with this shimmer to hope, I went up to the station with my name written in large letters on a card and met the train. And just like that, three Americans came up to me and gave me my ticket.

I still don't know if Pidge knew the people or not, or if he just gave it to the most trustworthy and understanding people he could find. Either way, the goodness of humanity came through.

At the very last second, I had it, and the next night, I went to the greatest concert of my life.

The details of the concert will be in part two.


A big thanks to the boys in London and to Pidge in particular, and to the three anonymous Americans who revived my hope.

Post script: A morning in Monaco

Continuing the theme of “traveling difficulties,” I found out after arriving in Monaco this morning (the next stop after Nice), that there is a French transportation strike (or something) that was messing with the trains and buses, so I wouldn’t be able to get to Rome as soon as I had planned. Which, of course, is when paranoia took over. Despite using the 24 hour clock for the past 5 months now, I still occasionally get confused. So when the train information lady told me that I could get to Milano at 18:50, I understood it at 8:50pm… far too late to arrive in Roma before my mandatory check-in time of 11pm. Having no phone, I’d arranged to meet Claire at our hostel in Rome at 7:30pm – a deadline which I now couldn’t make. So I spent an hour rushing around Monaco looking for an internet connection order to let her know of the delay. Luckily, I also could look up train schedules, which quickly alerted me to my mistake. In this way I found out that I could arrive in Rome at 10pm, which relieved much of my stress, tho far from all. Everything had to go exactly right for me to catch the correct trains and given my track record, I wasn’t overly optimistic. Thankfully (for once) it all worked out and I had a wonderful week with Claire in Italy.

A night in Nice

This entry really isn’t about Nice at all. It’s a reflection on traveling.

Being alone, I’m always looking for familiarity and some sense of certainty. Nothing does this like language and accents. On the train out of Barcelona, I heard a couple of people talking about going to Nice, my next destination. They were young, had backpacks, and spoke English, which was enough to make us friends. Given that we had to change trains several times to reach Nice, we stuck together so we would have a better chance of all ending up on the correct train. Even if ultimately you don’t really too much about the people you meet, it’s always nice to have company – to learn a bit about someone else and to share a bit of yourself. We had a nice lunch/dinner before our next train, and ended up running into a couple backpackers that they had met earlier in the day. As we walked thru the station, occasionally someone, hearing our English, would ask us if we were on our way to Nice if we knew where to go. It was in this way that eight of us travelers got onto the train. But as so often happens, we were all so excited to have company and we were all so confident in ourselves as a group, that we forgot to double-check which train we were getting on. It was only when the train started moving 15 minutes early that I asked the question, “Is anyone sure that we’re on the right train?” Nope, we weren’t.

Luckily, we were still headed in the right direction and were able to change trains with no loss, time or money wise. As it had turned out, several other travelers had followed us onto the train as well, making a grand total of a dozen bumbling tourists on the wrong train. It happens.

But eventually we got to Nice and went our separate ways. It’s a beautiful place and I wish I could stay here longer, but I’ve got to reach Rome tomorrow to stay on schedule. This is the problem of seeing so much so quickly. There are some amazing places that I barely get time for. Spending only one night in the French Riviera seems ridiculous, but is necessary. Ah well, I suppose it’s one of those reminders to just enjoy the journey as well as the destination.

Flamenco

Very overdue, but my internet connection has been hit-or-miss.

There is deep pain, lurking sexuality, and incredible beauty in flamenco dancing. The fast fingered work of the guitar player, the lamenting cry of the singer, and the tightly controlled movements of the dancer all combine into one of the most passionate art forms I’ve ever experienced. While in Seville, I attended one of these shows. Most flamenco shows in that city have casts of 12 or more persons and are well out of my budget, so instead I saw an intimate show which featured only four performers. Although I’d love to see one of the bigger shows someday, having a small stage and only a couple people made the show really personal, which I think is ideal for the art form. Many people have heard flamenco music, and if haven’t go listen to some right now! It was some of the most amazing guitar finger-work I have ever seen, both due to its speed and its complexity. (Side note: I would love to hear flamenco music performed on an electric guitar – it would have a completely different feel, but would be really cool.) The singing was like a combination of an Islamic call to prayer with a lament for a lost child, so it had a primal power to that can break your heart. And the dancing takes that power and transforms it into movement. At points it was like the dancer was making love to the sounds of the guitar, and at other points it almost appeared territorial. The movements are all very controlled, and yet very graceful. When they start stamping their feet, you get this amazing rhythm of stamping, clapping, and guitar all thrown together. Overall, it was one of the most “Spanish” things I did while in Iberia and also one of my favorite experiences thus far.

Spanish Sexuality

From the smooth tones of the Spanish language, to the sultry movements of flamenco, to the shear amount of skin that is exhibited, Spain lives up to its reputation for sexuality. Not to say that the Spanish are obsessed with sex, it’s more that there is a healthy appreciation for the human body and for sexuality. I’ve seen a number of ads which use either scantily clad or occasionally even completely nude individuals, yet it is never done in an offensive way – it is far more sensual than sexual. I think this is a very healthy attitude. They don’t hide from their sexuality, but instead they celebrate it and put the natural beauty of the body on display. There is no sense of repression here, which is an incredible change after the U.K.

Toledo and Time

Toledo is a small “world heritage” town 30 minutes by train from Madrid. Since it’s very “Spanish” and is connected to Don Quixote, it’s a Mecca for Madrid tourists – most people in my hostel were planning on going there at some point. The city IS beautiful – old architecture, small quaint streets, and views from the hilltop city make it a pleasant place to spend a couple hours. But with my train schedule, I was there for seven hours, which ended up being far too long. For most of the day, I would walk a hundred meters or less, then sit in a shady spot for 20 or 30 minutes, just pondering and watching the city go by, before moving on to the next free spot. This is all fine and good when you’re with someone else, or enjoy spending a day simply doing next to nothing, but I had neither of these. Although beautiful, it was endlessly dull. And I got sick of my own repetitive thoughts. Eventually, with only a five minute walk from the train station with an hour to spare, I resorted to sunbathing. Normally, I regard tanning as a complete waste of time, but on this occasion, what else was I going to do? Besides, at the rate I’m going, I will have a wicked farmer’s tan in only a couple days, so sunbathing might help smooth that line out a bit.

Finally my train left back for Madrid. I had another 2.5 hours to kill before my train to Lisbon, so I spent a leisurely evening in el Parque del Retiro, and got a couple bocadillas (sandwiches) and an ice cream before heading to the station with half an hour extra. It was only after some searching that I realized I was at the wrong station. Although I rushed and finally arrived frantic at the correct station, the language barrier and being in an unfamiliar place had taken their toll: I was five minutes late for the train. The trains are never late. And worst of all, I had planned on sleeping on that train.
So, stuck in Madrid with no place to sleep, I was lower than I’ve been in an awfully long time. I made my way back to the hostel I’d been in the previous two nights and begged for a place to sleep. Just my luck, they had an opening on the couch which I gratefully took. And even more luckily, my roommate was a fun Californian girl with whom I could banter.

One of the worst things I’ve found about travelling is that you rarely get the chance to joke around, truly laugh, or have light-hearted conversations. Most people you meet aren’t terribly social, are traveling with other people, or are downright awkward/creepy. So whenever you do find a soul that you connect to, you consider yourself very fortunate indeed.

What a day. One minute doing nothing, then running around franticly. How like life.

Tapas in Madrid

After my extensive search for my hostel, I finally got settled and went out for dinner. “Dinner” in Spain is usually taken around 9pm, since people work until 7:30 or so. Friends gather at bars, order a drink, and receive tapas, a free hor d'oeuvre, with their purchase. Going to a little bar, I watched the locals for a while before trying it myself. It all seems fairly straightforward, but ordering in a foreign language in a crowded bar was a daunting idea. However, despite the language barrier, the barman figured out what I was asking for quite easily and I received my drink (roughly a half pint San Miguel) and a plate of jamón, chorizo, and cheese, along with a side of bread. This was so fulfilling that on my next go, I ordered two at once, and received tapas of paella and some fried potatoes and peppers. There was no real “class” to the atmosphere or the food, but it was culturally delightful. And for less than 5 euro, I was full and slightly tipsy.
The next night, on advice from Taneeka, I went for tapas at el Mercado de San Miguel. This seems like a very popular spot for tapas among locals, since the place was packed. Here you had to order your tapas separately (ie. they didn’t come free with a drink), but they were of very high quality. A smoked salmon and a crab dip tapas and a glass of sangria made for a fine, albeit small, meal. But mainly it was a wonderful experience because I got to participate in a common cultural ritual, which as a tourist, is sometimes difficult to do.

The Start

I won’t go into details about my adventures getting to Spain from London, but they involved a missed flight, not being able to find my hostel, sweating in the Spanish heat, and going 40 hours without sleep. All in all, a really fucking fantastic start. Even so, waking up in a new country does wonders for the spirit.

Introduction

Since so many people have asked me to give them updates about my travels, I’m finally resorting to what so many people have done before: blogging. I’m doing far too much to write about my every action in detail, but I hope to tell at least one story from each place I go, and maybe share a few observations about the place. But who knows? After all, blogs are a very open format. I’ll update it whenever I have time and internet connection.

Some of you might rightly ask, “Hey Devin, I thought you were going to do a video blog. Whatever happened to that?”

You’re right, I WAS going to do a video blog, but then I realized exactly how egotistical a video blog of my European travels would be. I’ve got a pretty large ego, but I try to avoid being outright egotistical. So I’m doing a written blog instead. I also recommend that you check out my photo album on Facebook (which will also be kept updated), since my photography is far superior to my writing. Send me an email if you need the link.

Oh yeah, and if you were looking for eloquent prose on the rich history and vibrant culture or Europe, keep looking – I don’t promise good quality writing.