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ON THE FRONT LINES with Freak |
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ON THE ROAD WITH... FREAK CREED
/ LOCAL H ALLSTATE
ARENA Chicago, Illinois ~ 12/29/02 I was holed up in a bar on 47th street when the weird wagon rolled into my world disguised as a full-figured red head wobbling up to my table. The beast was part of a “fashion show” and was modeling this little red and green Victoria’s Secret knock-off that left absolutely nothing to the imagination and immediately killed my buzz.
She pulled a drag from
the Marlboro hanging off her lips as she sat down and picked up the glass
sitting next to my beer. Smiling,
she cooed -- “I love whiskey too!”
-- and slammed it. Unfortunately,
it was a double shot of 151. Her
face contorted as she turned to run for the head, but she only made it a
step or two before belching the contents of her stomach all over herself.
It was time to go.
“Keep it short, no cussing, and you’ll definitely have to leave
that beer with me” -- she said as we walked up the loading
ramp.
The house lights were
still on as I went out and started my introduction for Local H but I was immediately sidetracked by singer/guitarist Scott
Lucas who emerged from stage left and handed me a full bottle of
Makers Mark whiskey. Assuming I was already in trouble, I figured I might as well
make the best of it and cracked open the bottle, toasted the crowd, and
downed a healthy shot before leaving the stage.
Vicky found me waiting
for her in catering after Local H and proceeded to escort me up to the
stage. They threw me up
without another lecture, but as I grabbed the wireless from the monitor
tech the look on his face told me that trouble was lurking.
I ripped through my spiel as quickly as possible and came back down
the ramp where Vicky was waiting to immediately corral me and herd me
towards the stairs.
The arena went dark
and the show seemed to be starting.
The rest of this story
has been re-created from first and second-hand information and, to the
best of my knowledge, describes the rest of the events of that evening.
The band was now
heading towards the stage after allegedly dowsing vocalist Scott Stapp with ice cold water.
Along the way, he allegedly fell and whacked his head.
He was then allegedly taken back to his dressing room where he was
checked by paramedic for a concussion.
Meanwhile, the stage
sat bathed in fog and purple lights as the intro music played over and
over. Twenty minutes later,
he was allegedly helped to the stage once again where he was able to get
things going. Pyro helped kick off
the set but it soon became clear that Scott just was not acting like
himself. When he wasn’t sitting on the drum riser, he was using his mic-stand
as a crutch, as he wandered about botching the lyrics and singing off key.
The ugliness reached
its peak when he apparently fell
on stage. Lying on his back,
he continued to sing but then, in a “Spinal
Tap” like moment, couldn’t seem to get back up.
The song ended and as the lights faded Scott pulled himself up,
dropped the mic, and walked off stage.
A few minutes later,
the band returned with a shirtless and shoeless Stapp now sporting a towel
around his neck, but the crowd had apparently already had enough.
Boo-ing could be heard as butchered songs ended and the situation
grew so tense that several extra Rosemont police officers were reportedly
summoned as a precaution. Thankfully, they were never needed, because things remained
peaceful. The evening ended with Stapp’s only
attempt to speak to the remaining audience. It was some kind of rambling
speech about how we didn’t connect with him and, in a bizarre twist of
reasoning, seemed to blame us for the crappy performance we had just
witnessed. All in all, it was a
very strange evening that may someday be featured and explained on an
episode of “Behind
the Music” I guess... What the hell, I can say I was there and I got to welcome the audience to a show that they will never forget, try as they may! |
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I pulled into Rosemont long before showtime and ducked backstage to say “hi” to some friends and catch up on the latest gossip.