Most of my shows are at bars, some in theaters, a few in clubs and others in unique settings. Sunday, I got to do the comedy tent at Rock on the Range, a three day hard rock/heavy metal concert in Columbus. I was apprehensive because it’s hard to get people geared to go to a concert, yell, drink, mosh and generally be animals, then sit quietly while I talk my bullshit. I know because I went to Ozzfest for four years straight. I got into the mosh pit for Pantera in 1997 and promptly got elbowed in the mouth and chipped a tooth. I sure wasn’t going to casually take in nuanced jokes after that.
I walked in the wrong gate, right past two strippers, turned near the free snuff tent, bought a 16 oz. PBR and then rounded the black skull t-shirts. Take that, One Direction concert vendors! I got there early and no one knew where I was to go. I found my way to the media tent, which was full of miserable looking media. They looked tired, unhealthy and angry, like most beat writers. I was a little disappointed, but my pal Darrell walked out and pointed to the back. I walked back and saw the coolest green room ever.
There was a full bar, white leather couches, pinball, pool, and even Matt Pinfield was there, interviewing bands. I stood out like the proverbial turd in the punch bowl. I was the only one without a camera, long metal hair, tattoo sleeves and lobe stretchers. There were a few groupies and hangers on that found their way in – the looks of disappointment nearly burned through me as it was clear to everyone I wasn’t in a band. I cared not, as I had drink tokens! I’m someone! I’m an artist! (I got Bud Light. I like to think I stayed true to my roots when I hit the big time.) I suddenly remembered that I had to go onstage. I’ll see you later, people in bands that won’t make eye contact with me.