Okay, so I went to The Fillmore which was a life long dream and I got to see David Cook and The Anthemic while I was at it. How lucky is that? So much goodness I still haven’t wrapped my brain around that one and don’t even know where to start. I think I’m just gonna tuck the whole experience away in my heart for now to selfishly cherish for awhile. But, I can say my expectations were exceeded. So, yeah, there was that.

Then, I come to DCO and hear about the incredible show at The Fonda and it seems that everyone’s highest expectations were also surpassed there. Yes, joy abounds as it is want to do in the Cookverse. So, we’re all happy and everything is good and now, it’s Thursday night in beautiful laid back San Diego and we’re all recovering from the overload of epic goodness like we’re recovering from our worst hangover. And, I’m sitting in this theatre called Spreckels thinking it’s kind of a twinkly name for a rock show. And, I look around at this lovely, old majestic theatre with its ornate, Baroque architecture and beautiful crown molding and frescos on the ceiling and carved wooden sculptures and I’m wondering, “rock show"? And, although there’s a balcony, the place seems kind of tiny and yet, amazingly the seats aren’t filled. (It’s freaking, David Cook, people, what’s wrong with you?) And, I’m looking at the crowd filling the rest of the seats and now I’m thinking it seems like kind of an odd assortment of characters for a rock show. Except, I’m there, and I’m not odd (no, not at all!) am I? Ruh roh. So, I’m wondering what the hell am I doing there. I just had the concert of a life time in San Francisco (amazing city, BTW) and DCATA just had a concert of a life time in Los Angeles and by all appearances, this crowd and this place couldn’t possibly ever know what it means to experience a concert of a life time. Oh, noes, this is gonna be tragic. Or at least one huge let down. And, yet, it gets worse. There’s no freaking opening act! We’re sitting there for what seems like an hour which at The Fillmore and The Fonda would have been filled with the crazy keyboard stylings of Tony and his Crash Kings. But, no, not here, not now and not even any piped in muzak to get us pumped. All I have is more time to assess the unlikely rock mindedness of this crowd and get into a conversation with my seat mate – a lovely, little, old lady who is a HUGE Clay Aiken fan and has the Clay Aiken face wallet to prove it (not that there’s anything WRONG with that!). But, I’m thinking, dear dog, I REALLY wanna go home. And as I sit there I also realize that there’s someone behind me talking about ponies and a chic down in front that I remember from Beaver Creek and, hey, there’s Scott running around like he’s hosting a party (Hi, Scott!) and this is getting really strange because I don’t really know these people but I feel like I should be talking to them which just freaks me out and now I’m kind of panicky. And, THEN, the sweet Clay Fan starts explaining how a cell cast works (I know!) and that her granddaughter is there and cell casting back to her good friend who is a huge David Cook fan. So, of course, as the responsible David Cook fan that I am, I now explain DCO and the workings of the nightly Navy Davys. Sheesh. Where the hell am I and why did I think this was a good idea? I couldn’t be satisfied to live my life long dream? Oh, no, I had to extend the experience.

Pause to refresh. This is concert number nine for me and I am fearful that I’ve become somewhat jaded. Worse, my number ten, that’s 10 with two digits, is next weekend at the House of Blues in Cleveland. Yes, that’s the magic two digit number to Crazyville. (And in my home state, how appropriate is that?) Yet, I’m thinking maybe I inadvertently took the express train and I’m already in Crazyville. Because, seriously? I kind of don’t want to be at Spreckels theater at this point. And, anyway, wasn’t he a party clown? I’m pretty sure Spreckels is an awful, sugary, rainbow colored candy. Not a setting for a rock show, surely.

So, just about this time, the middle section of theatre-goers starts chanting. See, the crew has been creeping out on stage for the last ten minutes checking wires and testing sound and every time one of them sneaks out, we think, finally, the show is about to start. But, no, we’re just being teased and the crowd is getting antsy and anxious and foot stomping ensues. And suddenly I’m thinking, yeah, now that’s what a rock crowd is supposed to do. And in the middle of all that I can hear male voices, yes, I said male voices, distinctly calling for Da-vid, Da-vid and I can feel the amped up excitement and my heart starts to pound and I look around again and this crowd doesn’t seem so odd after all. And, even better, I hear the chic behind me getting worried that nobody is gonna stand. Thank you, Jesus! I assured her (in my mind) that she would indeed be standing if she wanted to see around my big ass and head.

And then the sound system starts blasting out a tune. Damn, what was that song? Obviously DCATA chosen and perfect for their dark, enshrouded entrance. Then, one spotlight suddenly focuses on and suddenly off of Kyle’s beautiful, sparkly (dare I say Spreckely?) drum set and instantly the whole crowd knows this is it. The pre-recorded music ceases abruptly, the triscuit lights go green and the band is THERE! Everybody is immediately on their feet, Dave’s at the mic ready to wail, the crowd is cheering and all is right with the world. Why oh why did I ever doubt David Cook?

The music was awesome. The acoustics in that little, old theatre are amazing and there wasn’t a bad seat in the house. I am so amped at how this band has progressed over the last six months. They’ve turned a group of independently talented musicians into a cohesive, rocking band and those early informally loose gigs into what is truly becoming a tight yet relaxed and very professional rock show. Some times I wonder if they study the video performances because they seem to have become aware of the visual impact that they are making on stage. They are striking poses at the beginning and ends of many of the songs and they are just beautiful. I noticed Dave doing it at the end of Lie from very early on but now I see they’re doing it with the whole band and it works to great effect, especially, when the lights go down at the end of a song and you get this awesome, lasting impression tattooed on the back of your brain. (And hey, the tight pantz don’t hurt the silhouette either. Just sayin’.)

The set list was crazy fast paced and energized. Until they got to the encore and TWIK, they only slowed down briefly for Lie. It got pretty quiet for the a capella part of Lie which, because of the acoustics in that theatre is probably as amazing as it will ever get. I don’t think there will ever be a day when everybody stops singing because that song is too well known and loved. But, there was no screaming this time and those who did sing along seemed to know it was the moment to sing softly so you could still hear Dave’s voice. And it was lovely. It was also a great place to hear MITB. But, I am continually surprised at the venues in which they choose to perform it. I wouldn’t have guessed they would bust it out at a place called Spreckels (Nope, still not over that. It’s really a German noodle, right?) and I was a little concerned at the audience reaction (by then they had been re-classified from odd to endearing) until I realized either you know the song and the lyrics, in which case you’re probably okay with it. Or, as with my sweet, Clay lady, you have no idea what the hell it is and can’t hear the lyrics clearly anyway, in which case, I’m okay with it.

A few months ago I actually posted on the Chart James Thread (I know!). Of course, it had nothing really to do with numbers because if there’s anything you might know about me it’s that I’m a total word nerd Dwopper. I might read CJT and even occasionally comprehend it, but fact of the matter is I can only count about as high as the number of bracelets on BF’s wrist. And, granted, that’s a pretty big number but I do get stumped if I have to multiply it by two. Anyway, I jokingly predicted the next single would be the little ditty that nobody paid attention to - I Did it for You. Oh, it was a hi-larious post! Now, who woulda thunk that in a matter of weeks that little song would unload a level of awesomeness that it actually became a pony? My pony! I wanted to see that crazy ass ending jam so bad I was Smithin’ and Jonesin’. And, I got it at of all places, Spreckels (wasn’t he a Smurf?) and it truly was crazy ass awesome. Even better, who woulda thunk that the under-rated, overlooked simple, little tune would earn its place as an epically spectacular final encore? It’s crazy what’s happened to that song. From a lonely place in a forgotten tier to a show stopping, concert ending blowout. Whew, I’m exhausted just thinking that and blown away again reliving it.

So, I have to say the theatre may have been small but the acoustics there were mighty. Every song soared. And if the acoustics coming off the stage were brilliant, they were just as good directed from the crowd back at Dave. There was a lot of fun heckling that he responded to and countered, including my favorite from the chic in the row behind me who yelled, “Te amo,” and flashed a small “Mexico” sign. Dave responded with, “Donde esta la biblioteca?” Yes, they really do drill those high school Spanish lessons into our heads. He was constantly being interrupted (but in a good way) and eventually threw up his hands in defeat. That was about the time he said the inmates had taken over the asylum. Yeah, we did. He told us again Lie was about a girlfriend he’s not happy with right now, which made me go hmmm. Dave? Best not to mention those things if you don’t want to jump start the plethora of inquiring minds. We got the heart hands converted into FU fingers for KOTN. And, he’s now keeping as accurate of a concert count as our very own wonderful AprilFools, which just cracks me up. Now, there’s a concer-troversy that isn’t likely to happen again. Oh, no, no confusion there. Dave talked about the song title Bar Ba Sol and how Injected tried to explain to him that Bar Ba Sol wasn’t really the song title and Dave was like, “Oh, yeah, yeah it is.” Snerk.

Kyle brought baby Kyle out on stage. Baby K was supposed to play the drums but crashed before his set and was pretty much limp in Kyle’s arms. Guess they need to remember he’s a KID and to bring him on at oh, like say, the BEGINNING of the show? According to Dave he was lively and whopping him in the balls before the concert started and so they were surprised that he fell asleep during the blastingly loud show. Looks like we’ve got another true future rocker – no sweet, soft lullabies for that little guy. Give him Dad’s pounding drumbeat, some screeching guitars and a grizzly, growly voice and that baby is in dreamland.

Dave has gotten much better about introducing the band and I like it. It is an instant acknowledgment to the audience that they are a cohesive organism (easy, I said organism) and not just guys getting paid to back up a lead singer. He might not be introducing The Anthemic by their band name yet, but he’s acknowledging that they do come as a package (hey, I said, easy.)

There’s an interesting dichotomy between Neal and Andy on stage; of a darkness and light. If the boys have studied the videos, they’ve taken note of and are using the lighting to very dramatic effect. (Side Note: Am I the only one who saw the word love flash across the triscuits during LOTM? Was that just my imagination? Either way, I’m okay with that.) Neal is frequently enshrouded in a golden glow of light that reflects off of his halo of blond hair and pale skin and off of his guitar and creates the essence of a solar flare. And then there’s Andy who is often hidden in a shadowy darkness but then sometimes appears in an almost blinding light of whiteness. Neal may be an enigma but we some how know instantly he’s also a badass. Andy, on the other hand is a total mystery. Except that I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this guy on the cover of a romance novel. Can you say smoldering? And, I don’t know when it started, but Andy is now getting a really nice guitar solo during KOTN (I think?) and I like it.

One thing I can say about Monty is that he was totally at home on a stage in a theatre called Spreckels (A confetti colored Sesame Street creature?). That boyo twirls! He’s like a human whirly gig. And that’s when he isn’t bouncing (he’s a master class bouncer, y’all!) He’s like watching one of those red balls that bounce over the lyrics on a Karaoke machine and he makes you just want to sing along. He’s a twirling, bouncing, smiling, gooey, oozy ball of big old hugz. Yes, you just want to hug him. There’s nothing badass or smoldering about him. He’s pure lightness and air and radiates joy and it totally works for me. And, yet he seems to be a grounding force but does it with such a light touch that you don’t even know he’s doing it.

Then there’s Kyle who’s drumming is such an underlying driving force that you feel it without even thinking about it. He may not be able to move around but that boy MOVES AROUND. Damn, I just want to direct the remote control at him and play him in slow motion so I can see what he’s actually doing. I think it involves drumsticks, but who the hell really knows. I need those glow sticks back so I can tell fer shur. And, I do love it when the boys gather round the urinal for a nice band jam as it provides lovely shots like this. But, I think this shot is even better. But, maybe I’m wrong. But, who am I to judge.

And, of course, there’s our master of ceremonies. The piece de resistance. He’s funny, engaging, endearing and boy can he sing. And, do you know, the concert was nearly over before it even registered with me - NO BEANIE. That’s how enthralled I came to be in that little theatre called Spreckels (an elfish skin disorder?) that I didn’t even notice or care what he was wearing or not wearing. There was so much other incredible stimuli that it didn’t even matter. Okay, yeah, so he was demanding. And hawt. And intense. And driven. And, er…insane? But, I was just so happy to be there with all those not so odd David Cook enthusiasts enjoying this man and his music and the moment that I barely even noticed. Snerk.

Moral of the story? Never doubt the power of David Cook.

Gueseppe's impressions of the concert at Spreckels Theatre, San Diego, CA 9-10-09