The APC Experience

This is something I wrote after I got back from seeing A Perfect Circle at the Tweeter Center in Camden on 4/27/04. Anyone who knows me will probably know that I love APC and this was absolutely the sweetest show I've ever been privy to attending. This is very imcomplete because I got bored of writing towards the end and never worked up the spunk to finish it. But if you happen to be one of those lucky ones at the concert with me, you know how this story goes. But for all of you who weren't there let me tell you that it is no fun being stuck in Camden at 1 in the morning in the shadiest bus stop in the ghetto. We missed the last bus in to Trenton and cop actually told us that we should get going because he was gonna split...AND HE HAD A GUN! We made it back safe thanks to my kick ass awesome roomate Kevin who picked us up in Trenton after a drunken cab driver dropped us off at the wrong train station. So here's what I have to say about the show:

The day seemed to last for weeks, the show was hours away and I couldn’t wait another second. The clock read 5:30, we catch a bus and then a train. Suddenly we are in the middle of ghetto Camden and it dawned on me that the culmination of my concert history was about to reach its pinnacle. Pit tickets don’t just give you awesome seats, they give you bragging rights. Walking into the “VIP” area I noticed the looks of many angry faces glaring down at us. I quickly shrug it off and enter the room with a mosh warning and an evil grin on my face. There was a group of about 20 to 30 people all gathered closely around the barricade in front of the stage. I knew that I wouldn’t be satisfied unless I was up against that metal barrier, so I pushed and shoved my way to the front. And there I was, front and center…in the shit. I wait through some gag act called Mini-Kiss. They were midgets dressed up like Kiss pretending to play Kiss music. My stoned friends found this to be hilarious. Then the Burning Brides went on and they were only partially tolerable...Nirvana wannabes. And finally the curtain drops and the stage set is completely visible. Fiber optic branches formed a canopy of marose red trees across the stage. Josh Freese suddenly appears behind the drum set following James Iha on another platform. Jeordie White walks out with Billy Howerdel and they each grab a bass and guitar, respectively. The lights were dim and most of the stage is still hidden. Then a screeching wailing sound penetrates my ears as Billy Howerdel hammers a single note. Drums lightly kick in and lights hit center stage. Before me a platform, maybe six feet off the ground, becomes visible. A sheet over the front of the platform portrays a spiraled circle. The song slowly takes shape as “Vanish” and a beating bongo drum is heard from behind the sheet. Lights from behind the tarp reveals Maynard’s silhouette to the crowd. He is beating the bongo drums and dancing awkwardly to the rhythm. Finally the main guitar and bass beats kick in and the drums disappear. Maynard’s shadow grabs the mike and utters the word “disappear” softly. He repeats this as his silhouette travels along the spiraling circle until finally “Vanish into the air”…darkness strikes the room. There is a three second pause where I can feel the anticipation of the massive concert hall, until a roaring note is screeched out by Billy’s guitar, not four feet from my ears. The tarp drops down and Maynard’s body is revealed. Still shrouded in darkness and long brown hair, he morbidly approaches the front of his altar and bounces to the beat of the war drums. They were playing “Pet”, one of the harder tracks off of The Thirteenth Step, and it sounded incredible. The crowd jolted and swayed to the beat of the pounding, powerful riffs. From start to finish each note had its place and every syllable etched the gloomy yet melodic mindset of the band members. Every song was its own performance, as evidenced by Maynard’s active physical portrayal of each piece. He proclaimed that “Thinking of You” was a tribute to “the fine art of masturbation”. The climax of the song featured Maynard’s jerky movement to the back of his platform. His simulated masturbation scene was heightened by the flashing violent white lights gleaming over and through the band. He growled “thinking of you” over and over again as he thrashed his head back and forth to the rhythm. One of my favorite performances took shape in “The Nurse Who Loved Me”. It sounded as though Tool had redone the music. It sounded darker and more sadistic than the compact disk version. It begins slower and eerier than usual. Maynard’s sinister voice propelled the song to a crashing finale of drums and wailing guitar solos that made the performance divine.