I was a little wary when I read online that Fang Island described their music as "everyone high-fiving everyone." Something about that description just made me think back to my middle school years of meaningless pop music. But after their first song, I found myself high-fiving people -- with a little encouragement from the band -- and it felt right.
I was a little wary in general going into the night. After hearing the concert had been moved from Dunn Meadow to The Bishop, a relatively large jump in the size of the venue, I was unsure how that would work out. I also showed up around 8:00 p.m., at which time The People's Temple was performing, and their droning moans mixed with their lack of stage presence only increased my doubt. I spent that concert analyzing the ironic juxtaposition of the warm scent of Baked! cookies from the vendor's table and the audience, which I would guess to have had an average BMI of 18.
But for all the energy The People's Temple lacked, Fang Island made up for it. They went on around 9:45 to a very full and hot room and instantly jumped into their stadium-rock self-titled album. The mighty dynamism wasn't just from the band, though; it was the entire room. I found myself conflicted at times, torn between watching the violent mosh pit that grew with each song or the band. Every song screamed of victory and triumph, and it felt as though everyone was working together to overcome a battle. At any point in time, someone had their hands in the air or their mouth wide open, screaming the sparse lyrics.
I couldn't tell you the name of each song that was played, but I almost didn't care during the concert. Every song they played sounded like it belonged at the end of an epic battle scene of some independent film and I found myself a victim of that infectious energy. I stopped worrying about everything that was bothering me -- except for how to dance while simultaneously taking pictures -- and let myself get into the music. I didn't even mind the sweaty man who insisted on standing a little bit closer than necessary as I bobbed my head to the heavy bassline. It only increased my feelings of unity as I attempted to wail along to the "whoa-ohs" that dominated a majority of the lyrics.
The concert ended after 45 minutes with a boy pushing his way on stage and jumping into the crowd, which was only an appropriate end to the concert. I don't know if I'll ever listen to Fang Island again because I don't think that energy could be transferred, but maybe I'll turn them on if I ever run a marathon or something victorious like that.
Post by Amanda Arnold
