I’m a little skeptical as I’m walking over, as I'm passing DeBart. Can you have fun 50 paces from the building where you take Moreau, where you “encounter narratives” and “engender vulnerability” with the “Notre Dame family” for 50 minutes a week? Can you have fun 25 paces from the Mendoza College of Business?
Well I was about to find out — I was heading to Legends to catch Boogaloo, a music festival in miniature starring eight student acts.
I used to go to punk shows in high school. I hated them, but my friends made me go. It was always a lot of sweaty guys and a lot of crummy music. It was a bunch of said sweaty guys moshing to said crummy music.
I got the impression they liked the moshing as much as, if not more than, the music itself. “Is this gonna be like that?” I wonder.
When I step into the venue, the first thing I see is a Catholic priest in his Roman collar. “It isn’t gonna be like those punk shows,” I gather.
They’re giving away hats at the door. This is the third Boogaloo, and it’s titled “BOOGALOO 3: THE HAT.”
The lighting on stage is intense — pinks and purples and blues. It makes everyone on it look like they’re in “Euphoria.”
On the flier, it said “FREE FOOD.” And lo, in the corner, a table draped in black and covered in foil trays of chicken tenders! The whole room smells like chicken tenders the whole night.
First, I see Ryan. He’s here because he plays guitar in the band Pangdemonium — from (you guessed it) Pangborn Hall — but I know him because he plays double bass in the symphony orchestra. Me too! We sit next to each other. He also plays the drums, and I saw him playing the banjo once: he’s a man of many talents. And Zuzu’s here; she’s the orchestra’s timpani player.
But it's Block 250 that's playing right now. It’s an "indie band" playing “indie music,” and I’m a little skeptical of “indie music” ... I think that a lot of the time it uses being “vibey” and “lo-fi” as an excuse for being kind of lazy and bad.
Block 250 isn’t lazy or bad, though — they’re actually really clean and tight. The audience is into it, too. No one’s moshing, of course, but I’m seeing lots of soulful swaying.
They finish up, and I notice the priest start to leave. I run after him. He looks alarmed, like he thinks I’m super desperate for a confession or something. We get talking. He’s Fr. Stephen Koeth, the priest-in-residence of Stanford, and he calls Block 250 “the Stanford Hall house band” and says “they were spectacular.”
Next is Last Quarter. They’re playing R&B and soul, but one of their numbers sounds sort of like a song by Bikini Kill — a female punk, or “riot grrrl,” band. It’s an eclectic set.
They’re killer, so killer that when I’m talking to Alex, their lead singer, she says they just started this semester and it shocks me. They play a lot better than that. Alex and Angelina, the other vocalist, were great. It’s pretty common that you can’t hear the voices at a little DIY or indie show like this, but I can hear Alex and Angie, and they’re well worth hearing.
So is everyone. Jalen, the guitarist, does a couple of insane solos that the audience loves. Nick and Rich, on guitar and drums respectively, bring the rhythm and the texture. The keys, played by Aaron, are vibrant and rich. Alex jokes that the bassist Fabrice is their “ringmaster.”
“We’re one of the only Black bands on campus,” Alex mentions. She seems proud of the group. Last Quarter sure played a set worth being proud of.
Then, it’s Ben Warren Flynn. He introduces himself to the audience like this: “I’m a freshman from Ireland — this is my first time playing any of my songs live.”
He has a beautiful voice. Sometimes I go to church, and I wonder why believing is so easy that morning. Then, I realize it’s just because the people sitting around me have great voices. It’s that sort of voice.
He’s good at guitar, too. Also, he tells me he plays drums. And his song-writing is strong. He’s like Ryan — he’s got a lot going for him.
At this point, I’m getting thirsty, so I head to the bar (for a Diet Coke). I try to pay in cash because I think that’s easier. I get really confused with the pen and the clip board and all the paper they hand you when you pay with debit. It sort of makes me feel like I’m signing the Declaration of Independence.
But the bartender sees my fiver and chirps, “Campus is cashless!” She says it in a sing-song way that makes me think she says it often, so often that it doesn't sound like words to her anymore.
When I get back, Boys in the Tub are playing the hits. They kick off with “Friday I’m in Love” by The Cure and follow up with “Bigmouth Strikes Again” by The Smiths. They’re doing them justice, and I’m having trouble not singing along.
The emcee had mentioned that this band was going to be “quirky.” They definitely look like the sort of people who would like The Cure and The Smiths, i.e. they’re kind of dressed like “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World” characters.
Their lead singer, Julia, is wearing a lot of eyeliner and is a very emotive singer. I’ve been watching a lot of kabuki lately, so the effect reminds me of the actor Ichikawa Danjuro XIII — his makeup and the way he plays with his face and his eyes.
When they’re done, The Mourning Doves go on. I had talked to them earlier, when I saw a guy inexplicably dressed like a cowboy and asked him why he was inexplicably dressed like a cowboy. “Because we are The Mourning Doves, and we rock and roll,” he replied. I asked his buddy to tell me about their band. “We’re The Mourning Doves, and we’re totally b*tchin’ man," he said.
Then I left, because Whisk was next. I’m seeing them tonight, and I didn’t want to spoil my appetite.
