Yesterday a friend and I drove up to Portland to see Flogging Molly at the Roseland Theatre. They're a Celtic punk band with some of the most awesomely danceable music I've ever heard. The Roseland is a pretty intimate venue; the show was sold out, and I'd guess there were about 500-600 people on the main floor. There were two opening acts, and the crowd was appreciative but fairly laid back. My friend and I were in the middle of the crowd, about thirty feet in front of the stage.
Around 10 p.m. Flogging Molly took the stage and launched into their first song. The crowd immediately erupted into a close approximation of a prison riot.
Sometimes, you don't choose to mosh, the mosh chooses you.
My friend and I were at ground zero of a fairly sizable mosh pit, and for the next fifteen minutes I just tried to keep my feet under me. It was insane. I'd fought really hard to get as close to the stage as I was, though, so I wasn't giving up so easily. And, actually, it was pretty fun. I just went with the flow. Band leader Dave King presided gleefully over the mayhem.
After about three songs exhaustion started to set in, and except for a small pit right in front of the stage, most everyone dialed it back a notch -- still a crazily energetic crowd, but with less slamming back and forth. It was incredibly hot and humid. I wondered a few times if I would feel anything before I passed out, or if I would just hit the floor, but happily I never lost consciousness. It was such a great show, and the band played a ton of songs plus one encore.
As the crowd exited the venue, I noticed that everyone was so sweaty we looked like we had all been sprayed with a fire hose. I was actually wringing sweat out of my hair. I know, gross. I am relatively undamaged today -- just some bruises on my arms, ribs, and feet. And if I ever get to see FM again, I will be prepared with:
- Steel-toed boots
Change of clothes (mine were drenched)
If you ever have the chance to see them, and you can leave your personal space issues at home, go!