I once crawled around the beer-soaked floor at a Fiery Furnaces show at the Fillmore looking for a slip of paper that Eleanor Friedberger may or may not have dropped off the stage. It was hard to tell.

Moral before the story: Don't go to concerts with friends who are "fainters."
I was at an all-day festival/beer fest at Red Hook Brewery in New Hampshire. There was a main outdoor stage with bands rotating all day. As the stage was being set up for the headliner, my friends and I staked out a front-row position when one (Loney) said she needed some water. I barely listened (I'm a good friend, right?) until she started leaning on me… hard. The next thing I knew, Loney was down, covered in cold sweat while the rest of us looked at each other with looks of utter confusion; this was the one friend who HAD NOT been drinking all day! We brought Loney to a grassy patch at the side of the stage as I tried not to grumble about losing our front-row spot. A few months later, Loney broke her hip sleep walking.

a few years ago, i had just returned from some months in the UK and was duly obsessed with franz ferdinand. so i dunno how i missed the fact that they were playing a show in nyc, right before my bday. literally, i saw the concert listing in the voice the day-of, and said "well, shit. i'll just go up to hammerstein or roseland or wherever and buy a scalped ticket. i have to see these guys!" mission accomplished about a block from the venue, and i've got about 20 bucks left for drinks inside. an insecure underager at a concert alone, i naturally bust out the fake id right away and proceed to purchase and drink 2 double vodka-diet-cokes before the openers (the delays) finish. then i wander around, eventually back to the bar right before the futureheads go on. "crap, i'm out of money. i knew i shouldn't have tipped!" the futureheads are tuning up, and i walk to the side stage, which is being used as a vip bar area. "hey, do you think i can get a drink at that bar up there?" i ask the lone (lazy) security guard. "i promise, it'll just be one drink, and then i'll come back down." "hrm… well, yeah, ok. how many you got with you?" "oh, it's just me" (eyelash bat, and one and two…). "yeah, ok then." velvet ropes part, and i find myself watching the futureheads next to the delays and ultragrrrl and all those nyc music luminaries i so envied at the time. the set ends then the futureheads hit the vip bar. i swoon and end up swaying and holding hands and dancing to franz with a futurehead (the drummer, who was also underage at the time). as the (totally incredible) set ends, he invites me to the afterparty at the now-defunct rothko. "but you'll like, have to pretend you're our stylist or somethin', cos our list is full." "you mean i have to fake a sunderland accent?!" "nah, nah, just say you're here for the american leg of the tour…"

i never made it to the afterparty (oh my god that's a whole other incredible story, involving more ruses, excuses, and also mariah carey — it was fashion week), but the concert itself was one of the best of my life.

and yes, i know that's way over the limit. so disqualify me. it's fun to share :)

In my homemade puff paint "Dance!" t-shirt, I fought my way to the front row of a Milli Vanilli concert in Santa Cruz. One might think you could spot lip synching from the front row, but I guess I was just too engrossed in Rob and Fab's beautiful braids, piercing eyes and matching bike shorts.

My boyfriend and I were rabid fans of the Breeders in general and Kim Deal in particular. We caught the band on a bill with Luscious Jackson at Bogart's in Cincinnati shortly after Last Splash hit, during the heyday of all ages 'alternative' shows. After the show we went around back for a chance to meet Deal and the band, where teenagers in platform Birkenstocks seemed strangely fascinated by the simple fact of two gays just taking in a music show on an average night in Cincinnati. Josephine Wiggs and Kate Schellenbach, dating at the time, scuttled past quickly, but we got Vivian Trimble to sign our tickets because we liked her detached stage presence. Finally the sisters Deal ambled out, languid and lazy-eyed, passing a 'cigarette' between them. While the teenagers crowded around to ask Kim what she thought the lyrics to a song on In Utero meant, she looked over their heads and smiled at me and my boyfriend, striking up an amicable but disjointed conversation peppered with oblique sexual innuendo and stoney non sequiturs. She and her sister were on their way to meet their mom for a Thanksgiving dinner upstate, so they passed us what was left of their cigarette, which was a blend of tobacco and something else.

When I was 11, my mom won tickets to TLC, Boys II Men and upcoming smash hitter, Montel Jordan. I had the unique opportunity to sit on grass with a windy breeze attacking me. After Montel Jordan's 2 hour set of his entire catalogue (probably more like 30 minutes), they revealed he was signing autographs. I told my mom I didn't want one, but now, I know I should have gotten one. I went home later and went to bed. The next day I returned to my not-so-chic lifestyle of stick ball at day camp. If only I could see him again.

I went to a NKOTB (New Kids On The Block) concert…… last year! Enough said.

This is not a famous band, but a story of crazy fandom nonetheless that still makes me cringe…
In my final year of undergrad I had an amazing music theory TA whose name I can't recall now, so we'll call him Sam. Sam was in this fantastic indie band. He was HILARIOUS and cute and I fell deeply in infatuation with him. Sam was engaged and talked about his fiance often, but that didn't stop me from basically becoming a stalker – staying after class for additional help, writing "Your band is awesome and I'm in love with you" on my mid year anonymous student evaluation, dragging my friends to concerts I knew he was attending and "running into him", and of course, attending every concert with his band for a full year…I figured it was harmless and fun because he'd never know.
So when he passed out the evaluation forms at the end of the school year, he said "now, I know they tell you these are anonymous, but they're not. I process them and I've been grading your assignments all year, and I know your handwriting. So I'll know what you write." He looks right at me as he says this and I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed.
But I do still occasionally listen to the album!

i went to a John Frusciante show in alphabet town and had to meet him. i had this really psychotic drawing on a piece of notebook paper and when i finally got to talking to him i was shaking like a leaf and started talking some crap about this one song. then i gave him the drawing and he passed it to his manager behind him and said, "what does it mean?" i had no idea what it even was. then i have this picture of us and my eyes are bugging out of my head. i grabbed this drink he was drinking from the stage and it was water and A TON of KAVA KAVA and i gagged a couple of times when i drank it. it was the best night of my life.

Truth be known, I attended a U2 show in Atlanta at the Georgia Dome with three friends and at first, we all walked around the Dome's upper level (where our tickets had us at the far end, top row) and gauged that the music reverberations and echos were too distorting to understand the actual lyrics to the songs. So, about half-way through U2's main set, a friend and I scampered down to the Dome's lower level, scanning each aisle entry while walking toward the last aisle to the left of the stage. We then descended the steps to the 4th row, where I had observed there were six unoccupied seats with no cups in the cup holders. Sitting in the two middle seats, my friend and I enjoyed an outstanding visual feast of the greatest multimedia electronic light show we had ever seen, along with being approx. 100 feet from the band, the powerful vocals of Bono and the Edge's hot riffs, made this my best concert experience ever!

Ok, there's (was) this local band in San Jose called Red #9. All girl punk band. Anyway, they played a show at The Fountains at San Jose State that I attended. I bought some merch and had them autograph but, it was just a plan to ask the drummer (who I will not name *ehem* Julie) out. We actually exchanged phone numbers but, when I got home later that night I had a voice mail from Julie's mom telling me to "leaver her alone" and "If I keep 'stalking' Julie that she will call the police". Laer, I find out that it was some other dude but, it really freaked me out.

Ahh where do the stories begin…
I do believe I have more then my share but one of my favorite stories was at a huge street festival in Madrid, Spain. I was traveling with my crazy wild girlfriend with whom I always get in the best kind of trouble. It was raining hard but no one seemed to care, so there we are, two soaking wet blonde girls from California in a massive crowd of sweaty drunken Spaniards. The streets were packed body to body and every block seemed to have it's own stage with a live show going on. We are wondering around and some how find ourselves absorbed in the throws of an energetic weezer-esque Spanish rock band and my crazy girlfriend gets the idea that we should find a way to get up and dance on the stage. She grabs my hand and she charges for the backstage entrance. We maneuver our way through the masses and in broken Spanish try to convince the security guards to let us back stage. It doesn't seem to be working and so I start to turn away when my friend spins me back around, grabs my shirt and pulls it up flashing the security guards. I was totally shocked and embarrassed but when a huge grin came over their faces and they opened the gate and put backstage passes around our wrists I managed to forgive her.

I saw Dri open for Conor Oberst at Bottom of the Hill last summer and I thought she was cool, so cool, that I followed her around trying to talk to her and tell her how cool she was. Bottom of the HIll is really small, so she couldn't really get away from me, at the bar, outside, at the merch table. I realized after a little bit that maybe I was sloppy drunk when I knocked over her beer over all her tee shirts while I was buying her cd. Decided to walk away, relieved that she didn't know my name, which would have worked only I left my atm card with her.

This past weekend my friends and I went to San Fran, just a little get-a-way for a twentieth birthday. We are done with the club and start walking back to our hotel, which ends up being more of a stumble. Belligerently and insanely drunk, my friend is wearing her dress as a tube top, another pint size friend is speaking to the concrete, and I, myself am spitting out unknown french words to passer-by's. We just leave Union Square, and my friend spots some random guy peeing, and she shares a little anecdote about how she just got a 250 dollar ticket for "Urination in Public"(Long story…). Words, get to saying, and sayings get to jobs and locations, and we realize we are chatting with a semi-famous DJ. DJ DAN-OH. We exchange numbers, and plan to meet up later that night. I nearly piss myself at the thought.

Later that night we meet up at his place, let me tell you he is PASSED OUT, DONE for the night. My 95-pound friend ends up carrying his 150+ body to the couch so I can further embarrass myself. He is half asleep, half awake, and 100% undeniably drunk- as am I. During this incoherent conversation, I learn how he is playing as main DJ at Coachella, "uncle" to Uffie(The french rapper/singer from france), BFF to Pase Rock(Sort of like the rap/dj duo Spank Rock but minus one), co-producer and "brother" to Them Jeans, and has met M.I.A. + DIPLO. When I hear this news, I have a shit fit, confess my unwavering love for M.I.A. and must know each and every syllable she has spoken to him. I inadvertently spill vodka all over the hardwood flooring, step on his laptop, and give him a worse headache, all whilst explaining how I will write the best article in Rolling Stones Magazine for him(…once I get the job). Reminder-DJ DAN OH's eyes are pretty much in the back of his head. He turns to speak to me, and winds up vomiting all over…jeans, shirt, face and all. I help him puke out the rest, like the god I've built him up to be.

In conclusion, I get his number, a FREE invite to Cinespace and LAX next time I'm in the Los Angeles city lines, and wind up taking an unreleased Them Jeans t-shirt…which wasn't given. ;) All of this self-humiliation due to my inherent love for music, and the industry which it belongs to.

PS: If I do win, I will not be half as annoying as I was with him.

Wow…just wow. This story made my morning!

I went to the 1st Jazzfest in New Orleans after Katrina. I stayed with with a friend (occasionally with benefits) at her place. On Sunday night we were hanging out in the Marigny, the hipster district just north of the French Quarter. We'd already spent a full day at the fairgrounds and stuffed ourselves with crawdads. We stumbled into a benefit show for the Jazz Foundation which is coincidentally one of my favorite charities. The show is in an unmarked building that looks like its in the middle of a remodel. The line-up, however, is some of New Orleans finest musicians. We sat down and started up a conversation with the guy sitting by himself at the table. A few minutes later, Freddy Omar, a local band leader, sat down with us accompanied by his smoking hot girlfriend. We talked for a while and I bought a round of drinks. After the show wrapped up and we got up to leave, Freddy and his girl friend walked with us down Frenchman St. We headed to one of my favorite bars, d.b.a., and I noticed that Karl Denson and Robert Walter were playing a 2 a.m. show. (They'll be playing together with their bands at the Independent next month, btw.) We headed to the back room to chill until the show. Freddy and his gf were still hanging out with us for whatever reason. Five minutes after we sat down, John Boutte, the New Orleans soul singer, wandered in and went over to Freddy. I had just seen Boutte put on an unbelievable show at SXSW in a church in downtown Austin and I talked to him for a while. The set started and we all went to check out the music. My friend pulled me aside and told me that Freddy's girlfriend has just propositioned her for a threesome! That explained why a famous musician would be hanging out with a couple of strangers.
Now I could make up the ending a lot of you probably want to hear, but nothing went down between my friend, Freddy and his girlfriend. Let's just say Denson and Walter ripped up that little club, I missed my flight the next morning, and despite how booze I consumed I don't think I'll ever forget that night.

Thank you thank you thank you :D

When I was in high school, I went with my best friend to see Tori Amos. Before she was finished with her encore, we left the show to go find her tour bus. We weren’t the only ones… we quickly found a small crowd of die-hard fans waiting for her. After a while, Tori came out to her bus surrounded by her security people and came up to the fence where we were all anxiously waiting. Some fans had things to give her, others wanted her autograph. I had brought a cd with me intending to ask for her autograph. The crowd was pretty tight, but I managed to get the liner notes passed up to her and while she was signing it, I desperately tried to think of something to say. Mind you, I had had plenty of time to think of something; but for whatever reason, I blurted out, “You help me write straight A papers!” She smiled and said, “I wish someone helped me write straight A papers.” Very sweet of her. I was pretty embarrassed that I completely f’ed up the opportunity to tell her how much I loved her music but she was gracious which made me feel better.

Hahaha good one kid!