The flu has taken over my soul.

I lay in bed, my throat sore and swollen, my sinuses completely congested - soon I will be breathing through a straw. It's the kind of sick where every hair on your body hurts, and every time you emerge from the bed, a sort of strange delirium sets in. Everything turns a morose shade of blue, and the toilet seat is like a block of ice against your painfully hot skin. The world is not a happy place when you have the flu like this, and while NyQuil and bedrest are the reccomended ways of feeling better when in this state, I prefer to take a different route. I will make those lazy T cells work overtime to get me healthy again, dammit! I call up Pat and tell him we're going to a show.

The weather suits the way I feel quite appropriately, as today is grey and miserable. The rain pouring down in sheets along the dark, Minnesota freeway does little to mask the sick smell of egg emanating from the car ahead of me, but gridlock traffic provides no hope of escape, so I collect my wits and prepare to vomit outside the window, just in case. It's not raining quite hard enough for everyone to be so afraid of getting in an accident. We can drive faster than this, come on! My frustration leads me to turn up my stereo that much louder until I'm certain that everyone within three cars of me can hear the new Mountain Goats album I just purchased specifically for the drive with utmost clarity. It is at this point that I notice my vehicle is the only non-SUV on I-94 right now, and I shudder. Moving to Minneapolis would be a very good idea, as avoiding the hour long drive I take every time I want to see a show becomes more important every time I take it.

Eventually I arrive in town, pick up Pat at his apartment where he lives with his girlfriend, who is also sick, and I laugh at her until I see that she has the new Chuck Palanhiuck book already and I don't. My jealousy begins to overwhelm me until Pat finishes tying his shoes and we leave.

The show for today is the Plea For Peace/Take Action concert at the Quest in downtown Minneapolis. I have somewhat mixed feeling about what is about to transpire, the only two bands I'm really eager to see to any extent being the Lawrence Arms and the (International) Noise Conspiracy, but the flu prevents me from putting my guards up too high, and I become fairly open minded.

We walk in right in the middle of the Lawrence Arms' set. Go figure. I was a big Slapstick fan back in their day, and then a big Broadways fan when Slapstick broke up. I sort of missed the boat on Tuesday, but I did like the Alkaline Trio the first time I heard "For Your Lungs Only" on the first Mailorder is Fun comp and subsequently recieved that EP and Goddamnit for Christmas that year. Also rising from the ashes of this now apparently legendary by default ska band were the Honor System and the Lawrence Arms. I saw the Honor System once a few years ago without knowing who they were. They opened for the aforementioned Trio and the Selby Tigers at a now defunct Foxfire Lounge just a few blocks from here. They were okay, I guess. I dunno. The Lawrence Arms, though, appealed to me quite a bit more, as I like Brendan's voice quite a bit, and he seems to be the only ex-Slapstick member who isn't whining now (most seem to be under the false impression that they are actually Blake Schwarzenbach, and while I still dig most of their bands, I can't help but laugh a little bit).

ANYHOW, the Lawrence Arms are a very good band whose only real flaw is that they play some of their songs slow. Don't get me wrong, I dig lots of really slow music. However, the Arms write songs that sound really amazing as peppy pop punk songs, but pretty lame as slow, harmonious (dare I say... emo?) songs. Luckily for me, they play considerably faster and harder live than on their albums, and I am quite impressed. The guitar player, whose name escapes me at the moment, sounds more like he did in the Broadways, which is also very good, cuz that croony nonsense he's been pulling on the Arms' recordings really bugs me. All in all, the Lawrence Arms get a big hearty thimbs up live from my flu riddled ass. Yar.

Up next is Common Rider, featuring, as you already know, Jesse Michaels from Operation Ivy. I remember back in high school when I was desperate to hear Jesse do something new. Rancid failed to really do much for me, and it was really Jesse's thought provoking lyrics and spastic vocals that made OpIvy what they were. Unfortunately, by the time he finally got around to doing something new, I had already accepted that Operation Ivy would just have to be all that was of that group, and I moved on with my life. So, while I kind of half-assed listened to the first Common Rider album since Pat got it when it came out, neither of us were really very impressed. Neither of us really cared anymore, to tell you the truth. They could have been any ska punk band to us, and we were both sick of that.

Seeing them live tonight has changed my mind. Common Rider are officially good in my book. While still mixing ska/reggae with punk rock, they're definately a very different band than Operation Ivy, to the point where comparisons are almost unfair. Anyhow, they have really great songs, and Jesse Michaels has some of the weirdest stage presence ever, but it's still really fun. I also recognize Mass Georgini as their bass player, and am doubly excited, as he is probably my second favorite producer in punk rock, next to Steve Albini. You see, I am a product of the '94-'95 pop punk explosion, so this guy is sort of like my Jesus. I should say hi to him later. I also recognize their drummer, Lumley, who looks like a bald head hovering without a body above the band.

Wait a minute, doesn't Jesse live in California? And Mass lives in Illinois... How the hell do these guys get together for band practice?

After Common Rider has finished rocking the crowd in a manner that can only be accurately described as "skapunktastic", Pat and I prepare for Poison the Well to take the stage. Neither of us have ever heard this group before, so we peruse the merch tables for clues. Their section is manned by a guy in a Hatebreed sweatshirt, and all of Poison the Well's shirts have their name written in cursive. They're gonna be a metal band. Dammit.

Sure enough, Poison the Well come out and play what seems like three hours of awful, generic "Nu Metal" or whatever the hell you call this crap. I appreciate the diversity being shown at this concert, but am still somewhat saddened by the fact that the majority of the people here seem to have come exclusively for this band. They use their bass drum in comically large portions, and they all look like people I would hate if I were ever to meet them in person, especially the guitar player with the red guitar and the black hair. That guy's stage presence makes me wish I had brought a pellet gun to the show. Luckily, their "music" really amounts to little more than very loud white noise, so they are easy to block out as Pat and I look around the merch tables.

We spend a good deal of time laughing at the Promise Ring's dorky shirt design before moving over to the National Hopeline Network (1-800-SUICIDE) booth. Now, I should talk about this because it's sort of the whole point of this concert, and it's really a great cause. This concert exists to raise awareness of this nonprofit and to get people to sign petitions to get the Hopeline government funding. What they are is essentially a sucide prevention hotline. I come from a family where chronic depression and suicide is more common then I usually like to talk to people about. Let's just say that close to 50% of the Clem family has met their demise via suicide, and about 90% of the rest have at least made an attempt. Needless to say, this cause strikes me really close to home, so I think it's really wonderful that there are people out there who care enough about depression and see it as a hopeful situation to actually do something about it. I signed their petitions, I put money in their tip jar, and I thanked them for doing what they do. I urge you all to do the same. Really. Even if you're not going to the shows, go to the Take Action website (linked below) and see what you can do from home.

So Poison the Well left, and were replaced by the Promise Ring. I think the Promise Ring is totally great, because they were an emo band until emo got popular, then they started playing power pop and actually GOT BETTER while simultaneously pissing off all the stupid emo kids. Their sound now has shifted again to a very mellow indie rock. They're on Anti, if that gives you any indication of what to expect. Anyhow, I will probably buy their album eventually, as they sound really good. Unfortunately, I'm not really in the mood for this right now, and it just makes both Pat and myself very tired. I look around the merch tables some more to keep awake, and put Nothing Nice to Say stickers in every tip jar I see. This will undoubtedly piss a lot of people off, though my goal is to spread happiness. Incidentally, I also ran around the parking garage a little bit before the show and put stickers under the windshield wipers of cars with lots of band stickers on them. I am uber dork.

I spot Mass georgini wandering around near me and am tempted to go say hi and tell him that I think his producing skills are amazing and that I was just listening to the Mr T Experience "Revenge is Sweet and So Are You" in my car yesterday before work, but I am shy so I don't. All for the better, I'm sure, as he would most likely just be forced to mutter thanks and wonder why some weird guy in a flannel and a Misfits shirt is bothering him, and he'd wander away.

The soap in the bathrooms here smells really nice, so I wash my hands twice while I'm here.

The Promise Ring leaves and the anticipation builds before the (International) Noise Conspiracy finally takes the stage to close off the evening. (I)NC seems to tout the fact that they have a really hot female in their band as their main selling point, which, while certainly a plus, seems a little unfair, as they are a really really good band. Lots of energy during their set emanates from both the band and the crowd. But what else would you expect from political mod-tinged garagey rock and roll? From Sweden, no less. Mod is starting to get really big right now, with the rise of bands like the Hives, the Vines, the White Stripes (who also tout the hot chick as band member thing quite a bit, though it seems a tad more urgent in their case, as they're really not very good), and, while I'm certinly not sad to see emo once again fading into obscurity where it belongs, I hope that the (I)NC gets the attention they deserve before mod iteslf fades and the next rock flavor of the month stands up for it's fifteen minutes of fame, as they seems to be doing it the best. This is the second show I've been privy to now that features the lead singer leaving the stage and jumping up on the bar (the first being the Fun People from Argentina), driving the crowd completely insane. He then climbs up a wall onto a giant speaker and jumps down, and their set is over.

I am left so satisfied I nearly light up a cigarette out of instinct, until realizing I quit a year ago. Not that I'd need to light up here anyhow, as I've ingested enough secondhand smoke during this show that I'm probably gonna start going through withdrawls again tonight.

All in all, the show tonight was a lot of fun. A very good experience, and all for a very good cause. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to need to take a very long nap for my body to recover. Oh the pain...