Mosh Pit In The House of God
Feb. 21st, 2022 11:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
takethisforexample"When you jump off this stage, you will never fall. You will never touch the ground."
On Friday I saw The Casualties at the FU Church in Philadelphia. I got the tickets a few weeks back because it had been awhile since I got out of the house to do something fun, and I hadn't seen a show yet this year. I'm not hugely familiar with The Casualties (although I was with their opening bands) but this show had to be, by far, the best one I've been to.
The FU Church is a pretty popular venue in Philly despite the size. It can hold about 40 people safely, but 60 people if there's a show going on. In the venue area is a dimly lit little stage with this... I want to phrase this delicately because it cracks me up... this educational ABC's carpet. It's comedically childish and belongs in a kindergarten, but I assume it's there so the music equipment can keep a grip with all the movement on stage. Aside from punk shows, this venue also hosts bible reading, slam poetry, and other community events. But for Philadelphia's devoted underground music scene, it is indeed a divine place. Hence the affectionate nickname, "FU Church". I like it a lot.
So the other night I saw a few bands there. What I love about punk, and I've said it before, is that the crowd is always very inclusive and kind. I think probably a lot of people look at a mosh pit and see something ruthless and out of their element, and I can't blame them, but from my experience, everyone has each others backs in there. If a person falls they are immediately lifted back up and thrown back into the loop. Fallen phones and car keys are placed in a corner along with everyone's jackets and sweatshirts, which peel off as soon as the crowd starts getting fired up. And this crowd sure as hell was heated. Even in the first song, a small pit had already gathered, and by the time Stolen Wheelchairs came on nearly everyone was thrashing and screaming along. At this venue, there's a little area up by the front; a large amp stand that I like to hold onto or hide under to avoid injury all the way up there. The band is only a few feet away from there, and I can dance as much as I want without getting sucked into the middle. Usually I don't get worked up enough to take the risk and join a mosh pit since I'm small and desperately uncomfortable with physical touch. But I was ecstatic that night. Whatever it was, whatever was happening got the adrenaline pumping through me and eventually I found myself inching closer and closer to the front of the stage. Eventually, the lead singer of Stolen Wheelchairs jumped above me on the amp stand and flung himself off into the crowd, then got carried back. From that point onward, the strange array of both casual and fashionable punks were jumping into a dense mass of flailing people.
At around 10:00, The Casualties came on and encouraged everyone to basically do whatever they wanted. I, too high off hormones to really care at that point, smiled and danced with the lead singer of Stolen Wheelchairs, which could've made my night alone. What an honor. I contemplated whether or not I had the courage to go and jump off the stage and let all those disgusting, sweaty, unfamiliar hands touch my body but decided against it. Until, that is, a man in front of me turned around and put his hands on top of each other. I didn't know what he was gesturing at first, and then it clicked. He was offering to throw me up into the crowd. I didn't even hesitate at that point, and I shocked myself, but I put my dirty, beer and spit-covered boot up on there and was lifted above the sea of people, who then floated my body to the stage. Mister David Casualty was like, right there. Just screaming next to me. So I jumped back in, and was carried like the Queen of fucking Sheba for 15 seconds of the most concentrated and intense joy I have experienced, until my holy boots hit the ground once again. I really felt the love in that short time. I was lifted by so many people who couldn't give a fuck who I was or what bizarre position my body was being pushed into. It was otherworldly, like a scene of magic realism. Just immensely powerful for me.
Maybe this makes me sappy, but punk not only challenges me to be myself, it challenges me to overcome things I don't have the opportunity to without it. Dressing the way I want, asserting myself, joining the crowd, being confident, that kind of thing. I remember at my first show I felt completely out of place and stuck in my compulsively formal ways. There used to be a feeling of imposter syndrome. I think back to that versus where I was last Friday and I see that I've found something truly special and important to me. There is so much love in it for something that seems so hateful. I love the punk scene here in NJ and PA. Each time I get out of the house, the good times get even better.
After I was let down, I felt completely in shock. It must have been apparent on my face, because when I made my way back to my usual spot, a woman of about 35 or 40 looked over at me and smiled wholesomely. I guess she saw the whole occurrence from beginning to end and put it together that I don't do that often. From then on, my anxiety was gone. Alcohol, water, and other questionable fluids flew around the church, all over the floor and the comical ABC's rug, which I hope gets cleaned before Saturday Night Bible Study. My eardrums were so blown out that I couldn't even tell what song was playing, but I danced and shouted anyways. I was covered in sweat, just drenched. It was just intensity in its highest degree. I walked out not hearing a thing, but managed to thank the man who enabled me to crowd surf. He asked how old I was, and said that when he was 18 someone did the same thing for him. I sat down a bit outside and then managed to get myself home despite the hearing handicap. The feeling stayed with me until I walked in the door and came back to reality.
I love heavy, fast, loud music. Last year I would've shied away from it altogether. "Too overwhelming" or "too harsh". Now it's all I want to listen to and all I want to see. I really was in a place of spirituality that night.
On Friday I saw The Casualties at the FU Church in Philadelphia. I got the tickets a few weeks back because it had been awhile since I got out of the house to do something fun, and I hadn't seen a show yet this year. I'm not hugely familiar with The Casualties (although I was with their opening bands) but this show had to be, by far, the best one I've been to.
The FU Church is a pretty popular venue in Philly despite the size. It can hold about 40 people safely, but 60 people if there's a show going on. In the venue area is a dimly lit little stage with this... I want to phrase this delicately because it cracks me up... this educational ABC's carpet. It's comedically childish and belongs in a kindergarten, but I assume it's there so the music equipment can keep a grip with all the movement on stage. Aside from punk shows, this venue also hosts bible reading, slam poetry, and other community events. But for Philadelphia's devoted underground music scene, it is indeed a divine place. Hence the affectionate nickname, "FU Church". I like it a lot.
So the other night I saw a few bands there. What I love about punk, and I've said it before, is that the crowd is always very inclusive and kind. I think probably a lot of people look at a mosh pit and see something ruthless and out of their element, and I can't blame them, but from my experience, everyone has each others backs in there. If a person falls they are immediately lifted back up and thrown back into the loop. Fallen phones and car keys are placed in a corner along with everyone's jackets and sweatshirts, which peel off as soon as the crowd starts getting fired up. And this crowd sure as hell was heated. Even in the first song, a small pit had already gathered, and by the time Stolen Wheelchairs came on nearly everyone was thrashing and screaming along. At this venue, there's a little area up by the front; a large amp stand that I like to hold onto or hide under to avoid injury all the way up there. The band is only a few feet away from there, and I can dance as much as I want without getting sucked into the middle. Usually I don't get worked up enough to take the risk and join a mosh pit since I'm small and desperately uncomfortable with physical touch. But I was ecstatic that night. Whatever it was, whatever was happening got the adrenaline pumping through me and eventually I found myself inching closer and closer to the front of the stage. Eventually, the lead singer of Stolen Wheelchairs jumped above me on the amp stand and flung himself off into the crowd, then got carried back. From that point onward, the strange array of both casual and fashionable punks were jumping into a dense mass of flailing people.
At around 10:00, The Casualties came on and encouraged everyone to basically do whatever they wanted. I, too high off hormones to really care at that point, smiled and danced with the lead singer of Stolen Wheelchairs, which could've made my night alone. What an honor. I contemplated whether or not I had the courage to go and jump off the stage and let all those disgusting, sweaty, unfamiliar hands touch my body but decided against it. Until, that is, a man in front of me turned around and put his hands on top of each other. I didn't know what he was gesturing at first, and then it clicked. He was offering to throw me up into the crowd. I didn't even hesitate at that point, and I shocked myself, but I put my dirty, beer and spit-covered boot up on there and was lifted above the sea of people, who then floated my body to the stage. Mister David Casualty was like, right there. Just screaming next to me. So I jumped back in, and was carried like the Queen of fucking Sheba for 15 seconds of the most concentrated and intense joy I have experienced, until my holy boots hit the ground once again. I really felt the love in that short time. I was lifted by so many people who couldn't give a fuck who I was or what bizarre position my body was being pushed into. It was otherworldly, like a scene of magic realism. Just immensely powerful for me.
Maybe this makes me sappy, but punk not only challenges me to be myself, it challenges me to overcome things I don't have the opportunity to without it. Dressing the way I want, asserting myself, joining the crowd, being confident, that kind of thing. I remember at my first show I felt completely out of place and stuck in my compulsively formal ways. There used to be a feeling of imposter syndrome. I think back to that versus where I was last Friday and I see that I've found something truly special and important to me. There is so much love in it for something that seems so hateful. I love the punk scene here in NJ and PA. Each time I get out of the house, the good times get even better.
After I was let down, I felt completely in shock. It must have been apparent on my face, because when I made my way back to my usual spot, a woman of about 35 or 40 looked over at me and smiled wholesomely. I guess she saw the whole occurrence from beginning to end and put it together that I don't do that often. From then on, my anxiety was gone. Alcohol, water, and other questionable fluids flew around the church, all over the floor and the comical ABC's rug, which I hope gets cleaned before Saturday Night Bible Study. My eardrums were so blown out that I couldn't even tell what song was playing, but I danced and shouted anyways. I was covered in sweat, just drenched. It was just intensity in its highest degree. I walked out not hearing a thing, but managed to thank the man who enabled me to crowd surf. He asked how old I was, and said that when he was 18 someone did the same thing for him. I sat down a bit outside and then managed to get myself home despite the hearing handicap. The feeling stayed with me until I walked in the door and came back to reality.
I love heavy, fast, loud music. Last year I would've shied away from it altogether. "Too overwhelming" or "too harsh". Now it's all I want to listen to and all I want to see. I really was in a place of spirituality that night.
