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Editors Note: The following concert review was sent in to us by Dan Scheffler. We hope you enjoy it!

“Having just stomached some of the wondrous offerings of a one, Commons Dining hall, I sauntered into the Houston Field House, multicolored ear plugs in hand. I knew what to expect from last year’s Honda Civic Tour and RPI’s solution to poor venue acoustics (volume to 11 please.) I watched as Hey Monday played to a crowd of mostly non-RPI civilians. This was easily deduced by noting that most of them were being monitored by their mommies, were shorter than 5 ft., and had a combined shriek worse than that of anything known to man.

But back to the music. Hey Monday played a decent set, and at least got enough exposure through each of the other bands that the audience couldn’t forget them (rather was not allowed to.) They had a decent set and certainly attempted to play to the crowd. And in my humble but completely warranted opinion – were much better live than on disc.

With them finished, I took a marvel as to how the music didn’t sound like UPAC Sound’s usual job and how peaceful the crowd seemed. It was nice not to have people swooning over half profile pictures of band members every 12 seconds.

Anyway, All Time Low came on before I could think about much else and after a quick note of how my stomach had begun to hurt (damn it Commons) I was easily distracted by the sweet melodies and the wonderful set; which was conveniently decorated with the words “Ball Tickler.” Awesome. This was only the beginning of the lewdness between songs, as the band closed out with the phrase “If I could just make you all into a ball, I would put you in my mouth.” Lechery aside, the band rocked pretty hard. They started by playing a few nice songs that really got the crowd going, with their guitarist taking a nice walk to section 8 and playing in the crowd. They closed with the crowd servile to whatever clapping, dancing, or otherwise awkward, concert-exempt movement they wanted with a great last song, the name of which escapes me. When they had finally resigned the fight to crowd surf, security content, they passed the baton to Cobra Starship.

After relieving myself of the dining hall’s 2 hour stomach plague, and subsequently realizing how much Troylets and Albalests (Albany residents) love to pee on black toilet seats, I re-immersed myself on the concert floor in anticipation of Cobra Starship. Hearing so much about them, I was excited to finally see/hear them play. They started with a few decent songs, but then threw everything to the wind. They decided to use one of the most disrespected instruments, the keytar. The keytar, for those uncultured readers, is the port of a keyboard as a guitar. It looks and sounds badass. Anyway, I digress. They played some very interesting music that really got the crowd into it. Ok fine, I dug the music as well. Not enough to join in the cultish symbol raising but all in all, a great set.

With Metro Station’s appearance, the screaming had started to break the plane of my ear plugs. I managed to stomach it though, until the lead singer took off his shirt. PROTIP: don’t take off your shirt if you look like a PETA commercial dog. Ick. I enjoyed the keyboardist’s hair and playing ability, even if the rest of the band was annoyingly self-assuming. No I will not bounce bounce bounce at a rock concert. Thank you very much good sir.

So, Fall Out Boy. The band I feel has a very bad rep for being emo. “cock it and pull it right?” I think a further look at the lyrics might change your mind – they aren’t all that angsty. Anyway, I was blown away by the set they played. I thought they would be ok but they outplayed my expectations by a long shot. Midway through the show they played a string of three singles: “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down,” “This ‘Aint A Scene, It’s an Arms Race,” and “I Don’t Care.” These three completely sold the crowd with not only a stunning display of lights and a balance of bass that forced a few steps back at one point, but a staggering presence that left me resonant with every twang of guitar string. Interspersing small videos here and there, the band changed costume a few times, recruited a few at least convincingly looking riot police-ies, and generally added to the concert being a show and not just a performance. It was a good balance and the band never got too preachy, which is a good thing. Carrying me all the way through “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” the band closed out with “Dance, Dance” and rocked the Field House pretty hard. (Reports of inability to sleep have been pouring into public safety.)

In summation of all that ridiculous wordage, the concert was good, the concert was cheap (about $3.33 per band). If you like music – you should have gone. Nya~ “

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