If I was somebody's Muse...


Written on 2/28/2007 12:59:00 am by sikapitan

I suppose MUSE is on everyone’s minds these past few days. I was not planning on writing about the concert, but it seems like MUSE is on my mind too. This is rather ironic, considering the definition of the term MUSE.

What’s even more ironic is the obvious fact that I am nothing more than a casual fan of MUSE. Muscle Museum piques my interest when I first heard it, but despite having two of their albums (Origin of Symmetry & Absolution) and countless downloads, I never really bothered to memorize the tracklist or lyrics or even the melodies.

I don’t have MUSE wallpaper on my desktop, nor do I know the name of the band members. The music speaks for itself, and everything else is just showbiz, isn’t it?

Nevertheless, when I first heard that the tickets were sold out, I was surprisingly downcast. I don’t exactly know why, because I wasn’t really crazy to go in the first place, but something deep inside me, the music soul within me, is saying that I might truly miss an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I guess I must have done something right, because my pal, Shady, got me a ticket at the last moment, albeit at a 20% mark-up. I cannot begin to express my surprise at the spirit of friendship shown by another pal, Dedumno, whose girlfriend was sweet enough to offer her ticket (allegedly…) if I truly am desperate for one. Alas, since I have already purchased my own, Dedumno is spared the agony of a prolonged period of “merajuk”. Thanks anyway…

When I arrived at Stadium Negara, the majority, and I am not talking about George W. Bush style majority (when I say majority I meant 95%), of concert-goers were Malays. This is ironic (favorite word of the day) as just a few weeks back rumors were circulating that the tickets weren’t really sold out, but were withheld from Muslims. I don’t actually know if it’s true, or if it’s an official policy, but it didn’t work, obviously.

The reason for the supposed ban was that the official sponsor for the concert was a beer company, and a rather famous one at that. If not, why would Jessica Alba want more? *snicker*. I cannot comment more on this point as I have come to realize that fundamentalists don’t really like to hear open-minded suggestions and opinions.

Suffice to say that I trust in the power of individual faith and choice. No matter where you are, in whatever situation, if you choose to do the right thing, you will. I was waiting to hear from another pal, Sop, who was supposed to meet me up before the gig. Him and his crew was running a bit late (as usual… ;), but when I called him up, he wasn’t rushing to get into his seat. Instead, he was looking for the surau. Enough said.

Actually, I failed to mention that Shady actually purchased complimentary tickets from his friend who was working at a local entertainment magazine. So I guess the mark-up was actually 100% because his friend got it free! But this meant that we got some excellent seats, which of course we chose not to use, considering this IS a rock concert after all.

Instead, we stood along the railings between those in the upper tier, and those in the lower tier. My experience from previous concerts is that the cheaper the tickets, the crazier the fans, and this holds true till today.

I find it funny how concert-goers cheer the roadies who performed nothing more than casual checks on the instruments, audio and visual. I find it extremely not funny that the organizers cannot play a decent selection of songs (with the exception of Wolfmother’s Woman) while we wait the appearance of MUSE

I guess we should check MUSE’s identification to see if they’re actually Malays, because they only appeared one hour later. Just kidding, but it goes to show how ingrained the concept of “janji Melayu” is on my subconscious mind.

All is forgiven when the first note to Kings of Cydonia was played to a rapturous reception from a very sporting Malaysian crowd. MUSE was clever enough to play 4 rocking songs in a row, thus ensuring that the crowd was truly on its way to head-banging induced pleasure.

Those who have been “fortunate” enough to join me on any previous endeavors involving music would understand what I am saying next – I CAN’T STOP MOVING. Ask my girlfriend, who swears that she’s going to leave me if I ever started dancing like a madman in the middle of a shopping mall again, or ask my friends, who has nicknamed me Energizer.

Is it the lack of cigarettes, alcohol or drugs in my system that caused this terrible, yet exhilarating, addiction to follow the beat of music? I don’t know, and though I cannot say for certain that those high on drugs or alco don’t groove as hard or as long as yours truly, I can certainly be positive that if they do, it IS NOT because they are intimately attached to every note played as if it’s a string that guides a puppet.

If somehow, through pure luck, one of my readers (but I thought I only have 4…heheheh) was at the concert, and saw a crazy dude decked in green jumping at EVERY SONG (even the slow ones), then you’ve just seen how an undergrounduate acts in real life.

It isn’t pretty, but at least it’s true. At the end of the close to 2 hour show, my topman tee was finding it hard to dissipate my sweat, but Stadium Negara is a cool venue (literally), so it wasn’t that bad.

I realized something about concerts that maybe I haven’t realized before. Malaysians, in general, are a decent lot. We know when a concert starts, we should jump around, scream, shout, and generally be crazy, but when it stops, we too stop the madness, and file out in an orderly manner. I guess concerts don’t really turn people into animals.

Or maybe I should go to a real rock kapak concert, and maybe there I can see the much talked about social ills being generated by enjoying music. But as for now, no, I don’t suddenly want to go the Tiger way…

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