I am a Nervous Wreck
The year is 2006 and it is three days before I turn fourteen. I don’t remember getting ready but I remember standing in the kitchen with my dad. “Happy Birthday from me.” He hands me about $60 and for some reason I have a vague memory of him asking for change. Sucker never got his change.
Tonight I am going to my first ever concert, The Living End.
Mum and I were on our way to The Royal Canberra Theatre. Dad’s mate Wayne tagged along in the back, not at all awkward as he leapt from the moving vehicle before we’d even entered the car park. Yeah, you’re welcome for the lift. We entered the theatre and immediately lined up for merch. I began looking at everything that was pinned to the wall.
“I think I’m going to get the Jacket, and the tote bag.” I told my Mum, who quickly reminded me that Dad has asked for change. Uhuh, whatever lady. So I bought my jacket and my bag, and off we went to find our seats. Fun fact, I still have that jacket and I still wear it sometimes.
I remember the entire set that both End Of Fashion and Red Riders played. I remember the lights dimming. I remember The Living End coming out on stage and feeling so many butterflies in my stomach. But that’s it. I don’t remember the concert at all! But I do remember it being one of the best nights of my life, and the beginning of a perfect relationship with music.
The year is now 2017. I am twenty-four years old and have seen The Living End live fourteen times. Try not to be too surprised, but that’s where I’m headed tonight. ANU Bar, here I come.
I finished work at 6pm, and raced to get ready in the bathroom like the classy bitch I am. As we walked towards the entrance to line up, I caught a glimpse of an open door that I was four hundred precent sure lead to behind the stage. I immediately said “Lets wait around at the end and meet them.” Done.
We went inside and went straight to the side of the stage that Chris Cheney usually stands on, and stood at the barrier. I’ve never been at the barrier before so this was fucking exciting.
I didn’t enjoy the first band that much, I think mostly because being at the barrier is a lot of pressure! These people can see your face! Eye contact ruins me! After the first bad finished The Bennies came on stage. I had never heard of The Bennies but the crowd were going crazy! Upon googling the support bands before entering the venue, I had discovered that The Bennies described themselves as a ‘Psychedelic Reggae Ska Doom Metal Punk Rock’ band. There is no way this wasn’t going to be unbelievably entertaining. They were amazing. I absolutely loved them, and was about 90% sure I could smell the shampoo in their luscious locks the whole time.
Finally it was time.
I no longer get the butterflies I now feel pure happiness. I am completely in my element and oh crap, I don’t even know the first fucking song! I know of it obviously, but I don’t know the words! I owned but had not completely listened to their latest album. It’s not a reflection on the album itself, I have a process and I have not been in the right frame of mind for it.
So here I am, standing at the barrier three metres from one of the people that I look up to most in life and I can’t even sing the first fucking song. But that’s okay, but next comes Second Solution and then Roll On. From here on out there’s only one other song that I don’t know and everything is perfect. ‘Uncle Harry’ and ‘Prisoner Of Society’ finish a perfect set and my throat is killing me. This is the end of the night.
Isn’t it?
We stop at the merch table on the way out so I can grab a shirt, before heading outside to sit at the tables. We are going to hang around until we meet these guys. It’s already 11:20pm and we both have to be up for work at about 8:30am, but we’re committed.
It’s one of the coolest nights that Canberra has had for sometime and I chose to wear shorts. Luckily I had my brand new band tee to drape over my poor freezing legs.
We waited around for an hour. There were probably about 10 other people around waiting, most of them chatting about how they knew each other and about how they’d followed the band from wherever. We just sat in silence, occasionally making jokes. I had a brief moment of weakness where I told myself I wanted to leave because I wasn’t ready for this.
12:10am, Thursday March 9th 2017. (Roughly. Feels more dramatic to have a specific time.)
Suddenly a very familiar figure walked down a large staircase and I am instantly regretting my denim on denim choice, but it was the only jacket I had!
“Isn’t that…” Yes it was!
People started to stand up and walk in his direction. I moved slow, I have to play it cool because I literally don’t know how to hold a decent conversation with anyone let alone someone I had idolized my whole life
I stopped walking. Chris Cheney is now talking to a group of about three people. Suddenly Scott Owen is walking right passed me, but I literally can’t even think. In my head I am so focussed that I just let him keep walking. I regret that now.
Finally this group of people have moved on and it looks like I’m up.
Oh no, please after you sir. Some wanker jumps in from behind everyone for an awkward photo. I’ll just wait. I’m in no hurry to embarrass myself.
Okay. Now it’s me.
He’s looking right at me. I step forward and very awkwardly say “hello.”
He’s so fucking lovely.
“Hey, how are you?”
Oh just on the verge of a panic attack, and you?
“I’m good.”
Silence. Fuck. Speak!
“I’m nervous.” Uh. Okay you idiot! You couldn’t think of anything else? Couldn’t say ‘good show’? Nope, lets just tell him you’re shitting yourself.
“Don’t be nervous. You’ll make me nervous.” I’M TRYING, CHRIS! I REALLY AM!
He’s so fucking lovely. He moved closer to us, I think because he could tell I was about to shit myself. Maybe he could see everyone behind me looking at me like I was a complete fool? I just don’t know, but this is fucking crazy!
Okay, what do I say now?
I think he then said something about it being a good show, so naturally I said;
“This is like my fifteenth Living End show.” Smooth.
His eyes widened instantly, and he moved even closer.
“I’m sorry, how many?! That’s insane! Thank you so much.”
I hate myself for what I said next.
“No. Thank you.” You fucking loser. Can’t you keep it together for like five minutes?!
There was a bunch of awkward small talk about not wanting to ever work in an office, and only ever working in supermarkets before then I asked him for a photo.
After the photo he tried so hard to make conversation with me, but I’m a wreck. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. How did I even make it this far without having an anxiety attack?
“How crazy that this will be the last gig at the ANU bar?” He asks as if I have a logical response to anything he’s going to say. Suddenly a random lady’s voice behind me says “We’re getting a pool” and he takes a step back to expand the group. So naturally, we walk away to go and talk to Andy Strachan.
He was also fucking lovely, and I was probably more awkward with him because my brain was a mess.
He took a photo with me and then we stood there awkwardly.
“Back to work tomorrow?” This is exactly the conversation I had pictured myself having with someone who helped shape my adolescence.
We discussed the weather a little, and then my poor anxiety couldn’t handle it anymore and I said… “Okay, we better get home to bed.” What a smooth motherfucker I am.
We walked away from the group towards the car and drove home. On the way passed the Van we noticed Scott sitting in the passenger seat, poor guy. Sorry I was such a nervous wreck, I wish I could’ve shared a crazy awkward interaction with you!
How the fuck am I meant to sleep now? I sent my photos to everyone I knew before finally falling asleep.
To say that this was the best night of my life would be an understatement, but I wish I had been able to talk like a normal person and say all the things I wanted to say. I’m not a “fan girl”, I am genuinely passionate about the music and truly wanted to be face to face with people that I idolise.
I wanted to thank them for creating a nice escape for me fifteen times as I battle with depression and anxiety.
I wanted to ask how in the eleven years they hadn’t managed to play my favourite song as a single gig I have attended.
Next time. (After a Vallium perhaps)
This is only the beginning.
Shame about my wonk eye.