I picked up on Incubus when I was 16, before they hit it big. I'm not dissing or intentionally offending people who start following musicians when they hear a hit on the radio for the first time. I've done that too. As soon as I heard "Pardon Me" by Incubus I went out and got the album, along with previously released ones. I learned the music. I listened to it over and over again. I familiarized myself with Incubus's style, and their evolution as a band, from Fungus Amongus up to Morning View. Yes, I thought Brandon Boyd was incredibly hot. But what made him even more attractive was his songwriting. I met him at the Electric Factory after a show one night, and we held a full blown conversation amisdt the crowd of people that had gathered. I told him how much I loved the music. How it captivated me, and that I thought his style was unique. He listened intently, nodding and expressing his genuine appreciation of my fanship. There was no "Yeah, thanks, do you have a pen?" Other girls were grabbing at him as were talking and he completely ignored it. I wasn't gushing over his looks, I was tapping into a love we both shared, a love of music. I wasn't giving empty compliments either, and he picked up on that, which is why I think he gave me a few minutes of his time. The same goes for the rest of the band. Incredibly nice guys who were probably still in awe of their newfound fame. DJ Kilmore was an absolute sweetheat, joking with me and flashing a beautiful smile. They were happy to pose for pictures and sign autographs. I have a framed poster hanging on the wall that each member had signed, minus the drummer because he didn't come out.
![]() |
Me with Brandon Boyd, circa 2001 |
I was at Incubus concert at Hershey Stadium in Pennsylvania a few years ago with two of my best girls, Jenny and Dara. The three of us were avid Incubus fans. We sang along to all the songs. And in between songs could not help but get a little excited over Brandon Boyd, especially when he took his shirt off. It was fucking sexy! There were three bitches behind us talking shit the whole time. I guess they thought the only reason we were there is because we were teenyboppers? Jenny and Dara managed to talk me out of turning around and slugging the ringleader of their little group.
I usually don't mind being called a groupie. Or a groupie slut. It's not hard for me to leave my mark if I feel so inclined when I'm at a concert, except it's quite difficult when the band is relatively mainstream or has a huge following like 311. Yes, I am a 311 groupie. But I do not want to sleep with the guys in the band. I would die for a chance to interact with them as humans, not false gods. The same goes for Billy Corgan.
I've got typical groupie stories. I fucking flew to Chicago for one night just to see The Last Vegas. And went broke to get the chance to meet Buckcherry. And stood outside of the Electric Factory to catch glimpses and autographs of various other bands. And I bought another copy of a Liz Phair CD so that I could meet her. I've lost count of how many times I've had my tits signed by musicians. It's all in so much good fun. Sometimes it borderlines obsession, (okay, sometimes it IS obsession) but I love my music, and I love when a musician can reach into my soul, or my pants haha, and grab it by the throat.
IT'S ALL FOR THE LOVE OF ROCK AND ROLL.
No comments:
Post a Comment