Not to bash the openers, of course. When Joe Brooks, all the way from the UK, started
singing about missing a faraway love, I was sold. From the first chord the John Mayer swagger is immediately obvious, with an attempt at Dave Matthews Band soul and a BBMak poster face (throwback). The kid had talent, though. His almost un-plugged set (althought I'm not sure how plugged-in you could have gotten with him) made girls fall in love, especially with a Maroon 5 cover snuck inbetween two verses of a song that you might not have caught, except that Brooks's voice couldn't have been a closer match at the higher notes.Then out of no where, Hot Chelle Rae came bursting in like they didn't give a fuck. Picture a California garage band whose
look was meticulously chosen and guided by their manager: Russel Brand hair, tattoos that probably don't really mean anything (angel wings and a cross? come on), and jeans so tight all the girls grabbing at the band could literally grab what they wanted. But after tearing them apart for the first two songs, they, too got me with their Yellowcard hooks and Cartel/The Academy Is... pop/punk. Love songs, love songs, love songs.And then Parachute, a happy medium between the guitar-dependent and hipster. Frontman Will Anderson was so attached to his songs that his face was pained, unable to hold in the emotion dripping from each heartbroken verse. How can you deny a band who covers Springsteen's "I'm on Fire"? And besides all of the sensitivity, about two minutes into every song was so full of energy it sounded like an unplanned tangent more commonly heard during an encore (which never happened at this show, consequently).
Sure, the show was filled with 16-year-old girls who are just experiencing the pain of getting turned down by guys they think they're in love with and experimenting with anorexia
because they hate themselves and want attention. I sound harsh, but every girl has been there at one point, so you just have to get over it. And sure, the bands thought they wer epic because there were camera flashes in their face every five seconds, even though the flashes only happen so frequently at a show only girls go to. But Parachute, and even their openers, deserve respect for going hard at a show that could have easily been performed by going through the motions. What a love song.
