Review: No Doubt at the Gibson Amphitheatre, July 27. Logic wins; that show was incredible

1) I’ve never seen No Doubt live, even though it was my favorite band from 1995-2002
If … I had seen a lot of No Doubt shows in my youth, I would probably not have been as blown away by Gwen Stefani and company. The venue wasn’t gigantic; it housed thousands, but it wasn’t an arena. But we were seven rows away, and I could see her sweat glistening off her abs, the fake lashes, the hulking skulking way she danced around the stage. Although she opened the set with a bum microphone (they had to switch mics THREE TIMES during “Spiderwebs,” we didn’t hear anything until the chorus! WTF?) I was transported to my 15-year-old self again, waiting for No Doubt videos to come on MTV.

2) I watch a lot of shows — maybe two or three a week.
If… I didn’t watch so many concerts as a music journalist, I would probably not have had a good point of comparison for No Doubt. As it was, I was totally blown away by the production value of No Doubt’s set. The visuals were created with After-Effects. The lighting was impeccable. The sound was full. The whole band looked great — everyone was in black and white outfits, Gwen Stefani had three costume changes. Everyone PERFORMED.
No one was in a dirty shirt, no one was looking to the ground while playing guitar. Tony Kanal jumped four feet into the air while playing bass, and still connected with the audience. I had forgotten what it was like to watch a really good, produced show — watching someone with money to spend on lights, clothes and sound makes for a really entertaining experience. I love watching a show that’s light years away from what a recorded album feels like, and the difference between a regular concert and a show like Monday’s No Doubt show is like the difference between going to Disneyland and going on rides at a county fair.

3) I have no qualms about going to reunion shows of bands I love.
If … I were a purist, I would avoid reunion tours because of the bands’ motivation. Whether or not a band is performing because they need money, even to an audience that they rejected years ago, is irrelevant. I can accept nostalgia acts because I grew up abroad and didn’t have a chance to see any of these great bands before I lived in the States. So whenever I hear that a band that was super important to me — the Police, the Pixies, Smoking Popes — is touring again, I jump at the chance to see them. “Tragic Kingdom” was my 1995 soundtrack. When I started dating my first real boyfriend, we broke up and got back together constantly — so much so that he appropriated “Ex-Girlfriend” and called it my song. In 2002, my father, my sister, my brother and I went on a road trip around North Luzon; we listened to No Doubt’s “Rock Steady” and Bob Marley’s “Legend”constantly because it was our only musical middle ground. After my father passed away, I stopped listening to “Rock Steady,” because it would always make me sad.

So is No Doubt relevant in my life RIGHT NOW? Maybe not. But does it mean I love them any less? Not at all.

4. I love watching shows in big cities.
If… I weren’t in a great big metropolitan area, I wouldn’t have seen Shirley Manson, Garbage’s lead singer, sing “Stand and Deliver” with No Doubt. In LA they can pull out various celebrities at concerts, giving it that extra ooomph. When Shirley Manson came out (braless, natch), the hairs on both my arms stood up and my friends and I couldn’t stop screaming. Oh. My. God.

I walked out of the Gibson Amphitheatre (formerly Universal) exhilarated, with my ears ringing and a pulled calf muscle from jumping around so much. We had boss seats (thanks Annette!) I can’t remember the last show I enjoyed this much. Well, maybe Phish — but only because it was surprisingly fun. But that’s another blog entry.

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Our childhood rests in peace: Brian’s earliest Michael Jackson memory

My mom recently reminded me that when I was little I approached an African-American gentleman after a session of YMCA Gym & Swim and innocently asked him, “Do You Know Michael Jackson?”

Growing up in the Chicago suburbs, he probably looked a lot more like Michael Jackson than any other person I’d seen. Growing up at that time I also remember moonwalking across the wooden dining room floor in socks with my older sister. Unfortunately, neither of these are my most vivid memory of MJ – as that is reserved for a more unsettling recollection: that “Thriller” scared the shit out of me.

It was a great video, but all I knew at that age was that “Thriller” scared the shit out of me. Like when a fanged Jackson screams “get away!” and you watch him turn into a werewolf!? That shit was scary. Or when Michael goes green and his zombie dance crew surrounds his hapless date. That shit was scary.

But the most frightening bit by far, and what came to me immediately when I thought about my first impressions of Michael Jackson, was the inimitable voice of Vincent Price. I remember hearing “Thriller” tons of times in my youth because everybody owned that album. I remember anticipating when Price’s part comes in; when MJ stops singing, the bass and funk guitar keep grooving, a funeral organ comes in, and then the creepiest voice in history begins, “Darkness falls across the land…” I remember excusing myself from wherever I was – a playroom, a backyard, a birthday party – so I could get out of earshot from that terrifying laugh of his.

Despite all this, my enthusiasm for Jackson didn’t dissipate much over the years. Apparently my Thillerphobia didn’t even prevent me from accosting strangers about their affiliation to The King of Pop.

Our childhood rests in peace: Lille’s earliest Michael Jackson memory

For my great-grandmother’s 90th birthday, my gigantic family rented the ballroom of Manila Hotel and planned a program that involved singing (of course), dancing (of course), and lots of shoulder pads. I was maybe six or seven, and my older sister (Di was about 10 or 11, I think) was tasked with choreographing a dance number with me and my little sister. I think JB and Jan were part of it too, but I don’t really remember. I just remember dancing around cars in our driveway to “PYT (Pretty Young Thing),” trying to copy Diwata’s every move. She was my idol (still is), and even though I don’t copy her every move any more, I still think of those after-school afternoons as one of the best times of my life.

Our childhood rests in peace: Araceli’s best Michael Jackson memory