A Kan of Korn

I opened a kan of korn last night – it was interesting, and intense. Not a taste that I’m likely to acquire or even approach with appreciation, but a noteworthy experience nonetheless.

Translation: I attended a KoRn concert, the first stop on the alternative / nu-metal band’s new See You on the Other Side world tour. The original members of KoRn are from Bakersfield and their home town has been on their tour itinerary several times. I went with the other two members of Los Tres Amigos from work; all of us are post-50. It’s entirely possible that I was the senior attendee, my two colleagues being a few years junior. I didn’t see anyone older; though, I must admit, old guys don’t spend the time they have left on earth checking out the other oldies-but-goodies around them.

Almost all of the people there were certainly pre-30, if not pre-25. Black attire and heavy tats were de rigueur. Bodies in an array of altered states were the norm. I think I freaked out a couple of youngsters when I spoke knowingly about the KoRn hit, “Freak on a Leash”, and demonstrated a keen awareness of the group’s current fascination with singing children’s songs and nursery rhymes. Listening to KoRn sing “Ring-Around-The-Rosie” is a trip.

There were usually two or three mosh pits raging away at any given time, the largest of which was like combining the Demolition Derby and Circus Maximus. The local newspaper interviewed a guy who went to the gym for four hours just before the concert in order to get his moshing adrenaline pumping. One blond woman wandered in the middle of the pit for over an hour, mysteriously remaining almost untouched. The crowd surfing was nonstop. I phoned each of my kids during the concert to tell them their old man was “in the pit”. I suspect that visual image caused each of them a measure of discomfort. That’s okay; each of them has created visual images that have had a similar effect on me.

The band was dreadful, meaning several of them came with heads full of dreads, which they dipped and flipped to the beat 27,316 times in two hours. People in the audience, most of whom were dreadless, imitated that motion in a variety of ways that ranged from amazing to amusing.

As for the music – there was plenty. Of the 30± songs they performed, 28 of them sounded exactly alike. A couple of them were slower, with lyrics that were understandable, leaving me to observe, “I didn’t know they had this kind of range. Who knew they did ballads.” As predicted, the volume approached painful levels but none of Los Tres Amigos could bring ourselves to use the ear plugs we’d brought with us. Not cool.

It’s not my intent to damn with faint praise. I’m not sure what kind of damning or praise to use, faint or otherwise, in describing the experience last night. I’ll leave it at this: for me, it was all about the energy level; the unrelenting intensity; the way-over-the-top youthful exuberance; the tribal frenzy that seized all but three of the people present; and, it was about the always popular opportunity to disorient my kids.

You can’t pass up moments like that when you’re post-50. I hope to stage dive into a few more of them before I’m done.