Last night I ran into a situation that I’ve worried about for a while. A few weeks ago, I got a confirmation from a publicist to go and shoot a show in St. Louis. It’s pretty routine stuff, and I’ve gotten pretty good at making that run. I got to the venue early because there was another big show happening next door, and I didn’t want to worry about fighting for parking.
When I got the original e-mail, there was a contact for the tour, but not for the venue’s marketing office, who usually handles the on-site coordination. No big deal, though, because I’ve worked with the place – and the people there – plenty of times. I just fired off a quick text to one of the contacts there to find out if she was handling the show. And that’s when things went awry.
I was told I wasn’t on the list for press approval. That was unusual, but not unheard of. Sometimes people forget to pass messages on everywhere they need to be. It happens in all walks of life, all kinds of business, and this one is no exception. So I pulled up the e-mail confirmation I had, having learned some time ago to keep these messages close at hand until my foot was in the door. I had plenty of time, so I sent off an e-mail to the tour contact I had looking to get things straightened out. Since I know not everyone checks their phone every thirty seconds, especially when they’re working on setting up a rock concert, I followed up shortly thereafter with a call. I left a voice mail, then waited.
When my phone rang, maybe ten or fifteen minutes later, I figured I was about to have it all sorted out. But I was wrong.
It turns out the publicist that sent my approval forgot not only to tell the venue, but anyone else, either. The tour manager had heard nothing about it, and his allotment for media passes had already been used. He was incredibly apologetic, but there was nothing to be done. I hung around chatting with a fellow photographer that was covering the show, but then there was nothing left to do but point the car north and head back to the house, empty-handed.
Between the venue contact and my fellow photographer, I’ve been told a lot in the last 24 hours how bad people feel that I got shut out, got short shrift on the show last night. Of course I’m disappointed, but this was just a bump in the road, not the end of the line. There will be other shows – I have a few on the slate for later this week – and there will be other chance to capture this artist. It could be easy to point fingers, to pound on the table, to wail and gnash teeth and to yell and scream and rage. But even if I’d done all of that, I’d still have been in the car heading home. So what’s the point? It’s just one of those things. I’m out a little gas, a little parking money, and a little time I would have spent sitting on the couch instead. So, it’s just another story to tell, to laugh about with friends, and carry on.
I’m not naming anyone here, you might notice. I don’t want this to pop up in a few months or a few years and have people start talking about the folks involved. That’s not why I’m writing this. I’m writing it more just because it’s a story, and I like telling stories. And to share that, yes, the curtain dropped early on me last night. But the show will go on, again, and again.
11 November 2018
20 June 2018
Stranger In A Strange Land
The two-year anniversary of my first professional concert shoot has come and gone. You can read all about that over here if you want. In just a little over two years since I was handed that first photo pass, I’ve collected 59 more of them. While I’m sure some of my concert-photography peers are chuckling at the idea of only 60 passes – or the idea of keeping track of them – I’m still pretty happy with my growing collection.
I’ve gotten to see some incredible shows, from the legendary – Iron Maiden, ZZ Top, Metallica, John Fogerty – to the newcomers – The Struts, Ghost, The Regrettes, Kelsea Ballerini – and everything in between. I’ve shot in clubs that hold a few hundred people to stadiums packed with tens of thousands behind my back. I’ve passed superstars in hallways, stood on arena floors while monstrous stage shows were happening, and was inches away from my childhood (and adult) icons playing songs I’ve known my whole life.
And yet…
Another friend – Bonnie Burton, an incredible author - wrote a great piece earlier this year talking about “Imposter Syndrome.” It’s nice to know others feel the same way, but that doesn’t really change the feeling. I’ve explained to others that, every time I step into pit or onto the floor for a concert I’m shooting, there’s a desperation in my head. There’s a part of me – a not-too-quiet part – that’s telling me to not screw it up, or they’re going to realize you scammed your way in here. My goal at every show is to get the shots that are going to show that I belong there, that get me in to the next show, and then the one after that.
So, why am I writing this? Honestly, I have no idea. I have a ton of friends and family that always seem excited to see my shots and hear what adventures I’m off to. In online communities, I get compliments when I share my work, and that’s gratifying. So it’s definitely not me fishing for compliments. Besides all of that above, 1) I don’t think all that many folks read this stuff and 2) taking compliments is one of the hardest things I know how to do – or don’t know how to do, more accurately.
Really, I started writing this because I’ve not written anything for a while, and I realized the anniversary had passed. Then I started thinking and writing about some of the cool stuff I’ve gotten to do. And then I started feeling like I was being a braggart, which circled right back around to that Imposter Syndrome thing.
I’ve been doing this for two years now, and going really strong for the last fourteen months or so. As of the time I’m writing this, there’s no signs of slowing down, so I guess I can say I’m doing pretty decently at it. Only a few denials have come my way, and I don’t think they’re personal (I’d be far more flattered if those artists knew me enough to turn me down personally!). Just part of the game. I hope any of you that are reading this are still enjoying seeing what I’ve been getting up to, and I hope you enjoy reading about it every now and then, too. That’s definitely something I need to do more of. I’ve not posted here since March, and that’s just about criminal!
Thanks for the support. Thanks for reading, thanks for rocking, and keep your fingers crossed that I keep adding to my collection!
 |
| Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top - 2018 |
I’ve gotten to see some incredible shows, from the legendary – Iron Maiden, ZZ Top, Metallica, John Fogerty – to the newcomers – The Struts, Ghost, The Regrettes, Kelsea Ballerini – and everything in between. I’ve shot in clubs that hold a few hundred people to stadiums packed with tens of thousands behind my back. I’ve passed superstars in hallways, stood on arena floors while monstrous stage shows were happening, and was inches away from my childhood (and adult) icons playing songs I’ve known my whole life.
And yet…
Another friend – Bonnie Burton, an incredible author - wrote a great piece earlier this year talking about “Imposter Syndrome.” It’s nice to know others feel the same way, but that doesn’t really change the feeling. I’ve explained to others that, every time I step into pit or onto the floor for a concert I’m shooting, there’s a desperation in my head. There’s a part of me – a not-too-quiet part – that’s telling me to not screw it up, or they’re going to realize you scammed your way in here. My goal at every show is to get the shots that are going to show that I belong there, that get me in to the next show, and then the one after that.
 |
| Shania Twain - 2018 |
So, why am I writing this? Honestly, I have no idea. I have a ton of friends and family that always seem excited to see my shots and hear what adventures I’m off to. In online communities, I get compliments when I share my work, and that’s gratifying. So it’s definitely not me fishing for compliments. Besides all of that above, 1) I don’t think all that many folks read this stuff and 2) taking compliments is one of the hardest things I know how to do – or don’t know how to do, more accurately.
Really, I started writing this because I’ve not written anything for a while, and I realized the anniversary had passed. Then I started thinking and writing about some of the cool stuff I’ve gotten to do. And then I started feeling like I was being a braggart, which circled right back around to that Imposter Syndrome thing.
 |
| The Struts - 2018 |
 |
| Cardinal Copia of Ghost - 2018 |
30 March 2018
Careless Memories
It would seem that 2018 is going to be the year that nostalgia truly rules. Roseanne is back on television, Def Leppard and Journey are playing a summer stadium tour, and a lot of the fashion trends thought dead and buried more than three decades ago are sprouting up again (for better or worse!).
But the granddaddy of all nostalgia trips is making the leap from page to screen this week, so that’s what I’m here to talk about. Ernest Cline’s 2011 novel Ready Player One takes place in a dystopian near-future where a true energy crisis has hit the planet, leaving people stranded at home, even for work. The only way to go anywhere is virtually, though a massive online construct called the OASIS. Through this framework, a story unfolds following (of course) the unlikely heroics of the book’s protagonist, a self-described overweight kid who’s greatest relief was when school moved online so that he could get away from real-life bullies.
If you don’t know the story by now, with all the coverage of the movie, here’s the nutshell version: An eccentric Steve Jobs-type video game creator, the man that started the OASIS, dies and leaves a message for the whole world. Out there, in his virtual creation, he’s hidden an Easter egg and clues to get to it. Whoever gets there first becomes the owner of the OASIS and, oh yeah, a couple hundred billion dollars to boot. Our protagonist – Wade Watts, because his dad was a fan of Stan Lee-style alliteration – becomes an egg-hunter, or gunter for short, with the dreams of winning this spectacular contest. He does so with the help of a few friends, while battling the evil corporation trying to take control of the OASIS for their own nefarious plans – which are basically focused around putting the whole thing behind a pay-wall and selling ad-space.
Okay, all caught up? Up to this point, the book and the film are tracking perfectly. This is the spine of the story, and that spine remains true. But the rest of the skeleton, and the muscles, tendons, organs, and skin that make up the rest of the body of work couldn’t really be much more different.
(**Spoilers for both book and movie ahead, but I’ll try to keep them minor**)
In the book, the challenges to find the three keys are much more cerebral. That’s not to say smarter, but they involve more sleuthing than their movie counterparts. The first key, for instance, is located in a hidden replica of a Dungeons & Dragons expansion, where the seeker then has to battle a demon king in…an arcade game. In the film, as promised by the very earliest of teaser trailers, the challenge consists of an all-out, no-holds-barred race instead.
I’m not going to go point by point and compare and contrast. The gist boils down to this: The book deals more with problem-solving, working things out in your head, piecing puzzles together. The movie has puzzles, too, but they’re more color-by-number visual situations than brain teasers. Basically, finding the Easter egg in the movie requires…finding Easter eggs in movies.
There is, and will continue to be, a lot of debate over whether the changes made in the translation from page to screen are any good. Personally, I told a group of friends a few months ago that I was keeping my expectations low because I knew there was no way they could pull it off by staying true to the book. But after I said that, it dawned on me that I was looking at it wrong. Yes, the film took its cues from the book, but it’s a separate beast. It was never going to be a direct adaptation. And if it didn’t work, the book wasn’t going anywhere. If I preferred that, it was always going to be there for me to go back to.
The movie doesn’t delve into any deep secrets of the universe, though it tries to be philosophical toward the end. It’s filled with visual spectacle and so many blink-and-you’ll-miss-it references, I think it’s destined to be one of the most freeze-framed movies ever. But it’s a Spielberg film targets at younger (not kids, but younger) audiences. You know what you’re going to get going in, and if you have that mindset, you won’t be disappointed. If you go in with a checklist from the book, then you’re setting yourself up for frustration. And I guess if that’s your goal, you won’t be disappointed in that case, either.
I do have a few honest complaints about the movie itself, separate from comparing it to the book. Mark Rylance as James Halliday didn’t work for me. I’m confident Rylance did exactly what Speilberg wanted, but the character is supposed to be a Steve Jobs-like character with a social awkwardness that became a recluse later in life. But he had no charisma, just the awkwardness. I can’t fathom how this character would become a household name that people would recognize like Jobs was. I think they just tipped the scales too far in that direction.
Similarly, I think Ben Mendelsohn’s villain, Sorrento, was very one-dimensional. He didn’t seem smart enough to be leading a corporate division, because he barely seemed competent enough to use the restroom without someone showing him how the door worked. It felt like a bit of a waste of a talented actor in a bit part that was actually a really important role.
T.J. Miller, on the other hand, was really amusing for a guy that never once appeared on screen. He was just voicing a digital thug in the film, but he was such a “gamer dumbass” type that it just worked perfectly. His character was engrossed in his virtual character, so much so that I imagine him to be the type that forgets he doesn’t really look like that when he’s in the real world.
On the hero side, the leads all did their jobs well. Nothing groundbreaking, but not really any stumbles, either. There’s a lot of story to be told and, even in nearly two and a half hours, there’s not a lot of time to focus on building the characters. This is one place the book has an advantage over the film. Told in the first person, the book lets us focus on Wade, to get to know him, his thoughts, and his motivations. But if they tried to be that centered in the film, the filmmakers would get crucified for making the other characters secondary. That’s part of the world we live in now.
Cline’s original book was a love-letter to all the things Cline loved as a kid, from the video games to the movies to the music to the pizza joints with a few coin-op machines in the back room. The movie is also a love-letter, this time to all the visual spectacle of the summer blockbusters that have come to define movies of a new generation. It’s different from the book, but that’s okay, because of one really big reason, in my estimation. As one of the screenwriters, the movie is still an Ernest Cline love-letter.
But the granddaddy of all nostalgia trips is making the leap from page to screen this week, so that’s what I’m here to talk about. Ernest Cline’s 2011 novel Ready Player One takes place in a dystopian near-future where a true energy crisis has hit the planet, leaving people stranded at home, even for work. The only way to go anywhere is virtually, though a massive online construct called the OASIS. Through this framework, a story unfolds following (of course) the unlikely heroics of the book’s protagonist, a self-described overweight kid who’s greatest relief was when school moved online so that he could get away from real-life bullies.
If you don’t know the story by now, with all the coverage of the movie, here’s the nutshell version: An eccentric Steve Jobs-type video game creator, the man that started the OASIS, dies and leaves a message for the whole world. Out there, in his virtual creation, he’s hidden an Easter egg and clues to get to it. Whoever gets there first becomes the owner of the OASIS and, oh yeah, a couple hundred billion dollars to boot. Our protagonist – Wade Watts, because his dad was a fan of Stan Lee-style alliteration – becomes an egg-hunter, or gunter for short, with the dreams of winning this spectacular contest. He does so with the help of a few friends, while battling the evil corporation trying to take control of the OASIS for their own nefarious plans – which are basically focused around putting the whole thing behind a pay-wall and selling ad-space.
Okay, all caught up? Up to this point, the book and the film are tracking perfectly. This is the spine of the story, and that spine remains true. But the rest of the skeleton, and the muscles, tendons, organs, and skin that make up the rest of the body of work couldn’t really be much more different.
(**Spoilers for both book and movie ahead, but I’ll try to keep them minor**)
In the book, the challenges to find the three keys are much more cerebral. That’s not to say smarter, but they involve more sleuthing than their movie counterparts. The first key, for instance, is located in a hidden replica of a Dungeons & Dragons expansion, where the seeker then has to battle a demon king in…an arcade game. In the film, as promised by the very earliest of teaser trailers, the challenge consists of an all-out, no-holds-barred race instead.
I’m not going to go point by point and compare and contrast. The gist boils down to this: The book deals more with problem-solving, working things out in your head, piecing puzzles together. The movie has puzzles, too, but they’re more color-by-number visual situations than brain teasers. Basically, finding the Easter egg in the movie requires…finding Easter eggs in movies.
There is, and will continue to be, a lot of debate over whether the changes made in the translation from page to screen are any good. Personally, I told a group of friends a few months ago that I was keeping my expectations low because I knew there was no way they could pull it off by staying true to the book. But after I said that, it dawned on me that I was looking at it wrong. Yes, the film took its cues from the book, but it’s a separate beast. It was never going to be a direct adaptation. And if it didn’t work, the book wasn’t going anywhere. If I preferred that, it was always going to be there for me to go back to.
The movie doesn’t delve into any deep secrets of the universe, though it tries to be philosophical toward the end. It’s filled with visual spectacle and so many blink-and-you’ll-miss-it references, I think it’s destined to be one of the most freeze-framed movies ever. But it’s a Spielberg film targets at younger (not kids, but younger) audiences. You know what you’re going to get going in, and if you have that mindset, you won’t be disappointed. If you go in with a checklist from the book, then you’re setting yourself up for frustration. And I guess if that’s your goal, you won’t be disappointed in that case, either.
I do have a few honest complaints about the movie itself, separate from comparing it to the book. Mark Rylance as James Halliday didn’t work for me. I’m confident Rylance did exactly what Speilberg wanted, but the character is supposed to be a Steve Jobs-like character with a social awkwardness that became a recluse later in life. But he had no charisma, just the awkwardness. I can’t fathom how this character would become a household name that people would recognize like Jobs was. I think they just tipped the scales too far in that direction.
Similarly, I think Ben Mendelsohn’s villain, Sorrento, was very one-dimensional. He didn’t seem smart enough to be leading a corporate division, because he barely seemed competent enough to use the restroom without someone showing him how the door worked. It felt like a bit of a waste of a talented actor in a bit part that was actually a really important role.
T.J. Miller, on the other hand, was really amusing for a guy that never once appeared on screen. He was just voicing a digital thug in the film, but he was such a “gamer dumbass” type that it just worked perfectly. His character was engrossed in his virtual character, so much so that I imagine him to be the type that forgets he doesn’t really look like that when he’s in the real world.
On the hero side, the leads all did their jobs well. Nothing groundbreaking, but not really any stumbles, either. There’s a lot of story to be told and, even in nearly two and a half hours, there’s not a lot of time to focus on building the characters. This is one place the book has an advantage over the film. Told in the first person, the book lets us focus on Wade, to get to know him, his thoughts, and his motivations. But if they tried to be that centered in the film, the filmmakers would get crucified for making the other characters secondary. That’s part of the world we live in now.
Cline’s original book was a love-letter to all the things Cline loved as a kid, from the video games to the movies to the music to the pizza joints with a few coin-op machines in the back room. The movie is also a love-letter, this time to all the visual spectacle of the summer blockbusters that have come to define movies of a new generation. It’s different from the book, but that’s okay, because of one really big reason, in my estimation. As one of the screenwriters, the movie is still an Ernest Cline love-letter.
28 February 2018
Where Have All The Good Times Gone
When do we stop liking “new” music? I never wanted to be that guy that just keeps listening to the same stuff over and over, but here I am. And I don’t just mean genres, either.
After listening to a group of younger folks talking about new artists this past weekend, I realized I had no idea who about ¾ of the names were. And the names I did know, I knew for the wrong reasons (usually tabloid headlines). So when does this happen to us?
Strangely, there does appear to be an answer. A study published a few years ago found that most people tend to stop going after new music and circle back on “coming of age” favorites when they reach about 33 years old. Men are less likely to listen to newer music than women, but the median age still averages out about the same.
But what that doesn’t explain, really, is why. Over the last few days, I’ve had the SiriusXM radio streaming at work. Rather than my fall-backs of Hair Nation, Ozzy’s Boneyard, or even Turbo, I put on Octane to see what’s new in the genre I love – hard rock and heavy metal. And none of it was bad, not a one of the songs was something I would point to and say “what the hell is that???” The problem, for me, is that none of them stood out enough to get that far. It all just sounded the same.
Doing the concert photography thing, I’ve found myself hanging out with photographers generally younger than me (getting into the game late). I get excited when the bands of my youth are coming back to town – Poison and Def Leppard and Judas Priest are all coming through my area, and I hope to be in the pit with them! But when newer bands, bands that excite my fellow shooters – Queens of the Stone Age, MGMT, Muse – come through, I’m looking to shoot those shows because I know they're popular and I want them for my portfolio and to attract people to my work. It’s not that I have any problems with the music, it just doesn’t excite me.
The flip-side is that I feel the same way about what I see as “legacy” acts coming through – the Eagles, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Chicago. These are bands that are legendary, but they’re before my time. I want to cover the shows for the prestige of having them in my collection, but not for the show itself. (And even committing these words to the electronic ether, I run the risk of it getting back to a publicist and having them say “well, if you don’t really want to be there…” But that’s a chance I’ll take.)
The thing is, these are all bands that fall into the circle of music I should like. Old and new, these are rock acts. But only some of them are mine. There are a few exceptions. I’ve really gotten to like The Struts, and Ghost from Sweden. A few others are pulling at my attention, we’ll see if they latch on.
I don’t know what it is in out sort-of evolved primate brains that, at a certain point, we just say “nope, that’s enough. I like what I like and all this other stuff is just white noise that won’t get through my filters.” I don’t really like having those filters, but it really seems deeply ingrained. I’m trying to break it and shake it, but I just keep coming back to what I know.
Just my rambling thoughts for a Wednesday afternoon.
After listening to a group of younger folks talking about new artists this past weekend, I realized I had no idea who about ¾ of the names were. And the names I did know, I knew for the wrong reasons (usually tabloid headlines). So when does this happen to us?
 |
| CC DeVille of Poison - St. Louis, MO - 2017 |
Strangely, there does appear to be an answer. A study published a few years ago found that most people tend to stop going after new music and circle back on “coming of age” favorites when they reach about 33 years old. Men are less likely to listen to newer music than women, but the median age still averages out about the same.
But what that doesn’t explain, really, is why. Over the last few days, I’ve had the SiriusXM radio streaming at work. Rather than my fall-backs of Hair Nation, Ozzy’s Boneyard, or even Turbo, I put on Octane to see what’s new in the genre I love – hard rock and heavy metal. And none of it was bad, not a one of the songs was something I would point to and say “what the hell is that???” The problem, for me, is that none of them stood out enough to get that far. It all just sounded the same.
Doing the concert photography thing, I’ve found myself hanging out with photographers generally younger than me (getting into the game late). I get excited when the bands of my youth are coming back to town – Poison and Def Leppard and Judas Priest are all coming through my area, and I hope to be in the pit with them! But when newer bands, bands that excite my fellow shooters – Queens of the Stone Age, MGMT, Muse – come through, I’m looking to shoot those shows because I know they're popular and I want them for my portfolio and to attract people to my work. It’s not that I have any problems with the music, it just doesn’t excite me.
The flip-side is that I feel the same way about what I see as “legacy” acts coming through – the Eagles, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Chicago. These are bands that are legendary, but they’re before my time. I want to cover the shows for the prestige of having them in my collection, but not for the show itself. (And even committing these words to the electronic ether, I run the risk of it getting back to a publicist and having them say “well, if you don’t really want to be there…” But that’s a chance I’ll take.)
The thing is, these are all bands that fall into the circle of music I should like. Old and new, these are rock acts. But only some of them are mine. There are a few exceptions. I’ve really gotten to like The Struts, and Ghost from Sweden. A few others are pulling at my attention, we’ll see if they latch on.
 |
| Luke Spiller of The Struts - Champaign, IL - 2017 |
I don’t know what it is in out sort-of evolved primate brains that, at a certain point, we just say “nope, that’s enough. I like what I like and all this other stuff is just white noise that won’t get through my filters.” I don’t really like having those filters, but it really seems deeply ingrained. I’m trying to break it and shake it, but I just keep coming back to what I know.
Just my rambling thoughts for a Wednesday afternoon.
11 December 2017
Bad Boys (of Rock & Roll)
The big news in the world of rock – and especially rock photography – is what happened over the weekend at the KROQ “Almost Acoustic” show. Saturday night, Queens of the Stone Age lead singer Josh Homme was seen, and caught on video, walking past a photographer in the pit before turning around and kicking the front of her camera, driving it back into her face. I feel certain there was a reason for it, but there was absolutely no excuse. Whatever that reason was is something Mr. Homme, his bandmates, and his fans are going to have to reflect on long and hard before they can figure out where they want to go from here.
The photographer isn’t one I’m familiar with, but I’m starting to learn more about her. Her name is Chelsea Lauren, and her work is pretty damn amazing. She was there working, covering the show, and she continued to do so. Some people have already pointed to that and said “she must not have been hurt that bad if she kept working!” That’s a load of crap, and I hope anyone saying that knows it. She went to the ER after the show, and there are likely to be charges filed through the police department. We’ll be hearing more about this story in the days to come, I have no doubt.
But there’s a broader story here, a wider topic I’ve seen discussed. “It’s a rock show! Sometimes things get rowdy at rock shows! That’s the chance you take, right?” This is the refrain I’ve seen on a number of pages and comment-sections. The answer is no, this is NOT the chance you take, and – contrary to popular belief – it never has been. Yes, there have always been performers with attitudes, and sometimes they even act belligerently towards the crowds, the very people paying to see them. For some fans, it’s expected. They know this is how “their guy” or “this band” acts on stage. But calling names from behind the microphone is still a far cry from actual physical assault/battery. You hear all the stories of rock star antics from trashing dressing rooms and hotel rooms to walking off stage in the middle of shows. But it’s exceedingly rare that you hear of a performer getting truly physical with anyone, and even less so that it’s a deliberate act.
In this case, it wasn’t even an audience member. It was a photographer who was there, working, trying to cover the show and give some press to the band, generally in a flattering light. The photo pit isn’t home to paparazzi. This is the realm of people that want “the shot!”, that one amazing photo that the artist will want for posters and t-shirts and album covers and magazine articles. This isn’t tabloids looking for “gotcha” moments or things to make the artists looks like idiots. As a photographer, if you post too many photos like that, you’ll suddenly find yourself on the outside looking in.
The myth of the “bad boys of rock & roll” has always been more hype than reality. Yeah, things used to be more chaos incarnate, but even then, it wasn’t as bad as legend has it, and they still knew you didn’t cross certain lines, or it would cost you your career. And now, in this insta-view, auto-post, live-streamed society, it’s even more crucial that even the “bad boys” are more reigned in than ever. A stage persona stays on the stage. If a performer truly doesn’t like photographers, they simply don’t let them in to the show. They don’t invite them in and then abuse them.
This story will be very interesting to follow. I do hope for Ms. Lauren’s health, and I know she’s picked up at least one new fan from it. Unfortunately, the opposite is likely to be the case for Mr. Homme and the rest of Queens of the Stone Age. From the other side of the lens, I can say this won’t affect me at all. This was a freak situation. Whatever the reason behind it – again, reason, not excuse! – it’s not a common occurrence, and it doesn’t worry me in the least.
If any musicians happen to read this, just keep in mind that the men and women behind those lenses down there in front of you want to be there, and they want to make you look as good as you want to look for them. Let’s make it all work, and do it together, whaddya say?
 |
| Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age - St. Louis, MO |
But there’s a broader story here, a wider topic I’ve seen discussed. “It’s a rock show! Sometimes things get rowdy at rock shows! That’s the chance you take, right?” This is the refrain I’ve seen on a number of pages and comment-sections. The answer is no, this is NOT the chance you take, and – contrary to popular belief – it never has been. Yes, there have always been performers with attitudes, and sometimes they even act belligerently towards the crowds, the very people paying to see them. For some fans, it’s expected. They know this is how “their guy” or “this band” acts on stage. But calling names from behind the microphone is still a far cry from actual physical assault/battery. You hear all the stories of rock star antics from trashing dressing rooms and hotel rooms to walking off stage in the middle of shows. But it’s exceedingly rare that you hear of a performer getting truly physical with anyone, and even less so that it’s a deliberate act.
In this case, it wasn’t even an audience member. It was a photographer who was there, working, trying to cover the show and give some press to the band, generally in a flattering light. The photo pit isn’t home to paparazzi. This is the realm of people that want “the shot!”, that one amazing photo that the artist will want for posters and t-shirts and album covers and magazine articles. This isn’t tabloids looking for “gotcha” moments or things to make the artists looks like idiots. As a photographer, if you post too many photos like that, you’ll suddenly find yourself on the outside looking in.
The myth of the “bad boys of rock & roll” has always been more hype than reality. Yeah, things used to be more chaos incarnate, but even then, it wasn’t as bad as legend has it, and they still knew you didn’t cross certain lines, or it would cost you your career. And now, in this insta-view, auto-post, live-streamed society, it’s even more crucial that even the “bad boys” are more reigned in than ever. A stage persona stays on the stage. If a performer truly doesn’t like photographers, they simply don’t let them in to the show. They don’t invite them in and then abuse them.
This story will be very interesting to follow. I do hope for Ms. Lauren’s health, and I know she’s picked up at least one new fan from it. Unfortunately, the opposite is likely to be the case for Mr. Homme and the rest of Queens of the Stone Age. From the other side of the lens, I can say this won’t affect me at all. This was a freak situation. Whatever the reason behind it – again, reason, not excuse! – it’s not a common occurrence, and it doesn’t worry me in the least.
If any musicians happen to read this, just keep in mind that the men and women behind those lenses down there in front of you want to be there, and they want to make you look as good as you want to look for them. Let’s make it all work, and do it together, whaddya say?
17 October 2017
Engage the Fear Machine
The textbook definition of a phobia is "an extreme or irrational fear of or aversion to something.”
To me, the key word there has always been irrational. For someone living in the Midwest, I’ve found fear of sharks to be a bit silly, but I know several people for whom it’s a real thing. For me, the two biggest ones are spiders and heights. There’s nothing to be said to change my mind in either case. I know people keep spiders as pets, and I assume they’re very happy together. And there are people that make great (fantastic, even!) livings walking high steel or not-so-high roofs putting on shingles and whatnot. But both of those ideas are beyond the realm of conceivable to me.
When I talk about irrational, for me that means that seeing a spider, even a little one, makes my pulse race and my blood pressure spike. There’s no reason for it. I could step on it and end the ‘threat’ in about two seconds. But knowing that logically doesn’t help at all when all those subconscious, animal-based fight-or-flight mechanisms start firing off. The same thing with heights: I get very wobbly standing on something as small as a step-stool. There’s a very low likelihood of injury falling from a height measure in inches, no feet, but the fear still fires up.
But slap a camera in my hand, point me toward a shot, and tell me “do what you need to and make it happen” and things change. Today at lunch, I was killing time and grabbing some random shots of some fall blooms on some flowers when I caught some movement. I took the camera down and noticed there was a small little spider on one of the petals, obviously protecting his home. No matter how small, my typical reaction would have been to step back and move on, letting him rule that roost. But I had my trusty Canon, and all I could think was “Oh! You’re gonna pose for me??” and I started shooting again.
I’ve been known to climb five flights of stairs (exercise isn’t a phobia, but it’s something I avoid when possible!) to get to a rooftop, lean out over the edge, and get a shot of a party in the street below. Rather than worrying about who below will end up wearing whatever I’d eaten in the previous 48-hours, I mostly just worry about not dropping my camera….and making sure my lens cap is off.
I’ve read photojournalists talking about this sort of thing. Seeing the horrors of war through a lens lessens the impact, not because they’re callous and unfeeling, but because it has to. You can’t do that kind of kind of job and not separate yourself from it to a degree. I’m not comparing me taking photos of flowers with spiders on them to the ravages of war, but I think it’s the same concept. The lens, the camera, becomes not just a tool but a filter. It’s not a conscious choice, not for me, anyway (and far be it from me to speak for anyone else!). It’s more that when I lock in on something I want a shot of, I stop worrying about other things. I stop thinking about the spider, or the fall, or the derby jammer that’s falling and the skate coming at my head, or the pyro blast going off a few feet away on stage. I’ve got my camera, I want the shot.
Everything else will just have to wait.
To me, the key word there has always been irrational. For someone living in the Midwest, I’ve found fear of sharks to be a bit silly, but I know several people for whom it’s a real thing. For me, the two biggest ones are spiders and heights. There’s nothing to be said to change my mind in either case. I know people keep spiders as pets, and I assume they’re very happy together. And there are people that make great (fantastic, even!) livings walking high steel or not-so-high roofs putting on shingles and whatnot. But both of those ideas are beyond the realm of conceivable to me.
When I talk about irrational, for me that means that seeing a spider, even a little one, makes my pulse race and my blood pressure spike. There’s no reason for it. I could step on it and end the ‘threat’ in about two seconds. But knowing that logically doesn’t help at all when all those subconscious, animal-based fight-or-flight mechanisms start firing off. The same thing with heights: I get very wobbly standing on something as small as a step-stool. There’s a very low likelihood of injury falling from a height measure in inches, no feet, but the fear still fires up.
But slap a camera in my hand, point me toward a shot, and tell me “do what you need to and make it happen” and things change. Today at lunch, I was killing time and grabbing some random shots of some fall blooms on some flowers when I caught some movement. I took the camera down and noticed there was a small little spider on one of the petals, obviously protecting his home. No matter how small, my typical reaction would have been to step back and move on, letting him rule that roost. But I had my trusty Canon, and all I could think was “Oh! You’re gonna pose for me??” and I started shooting again.
I’ve been known to climb five flights of stairs (exercise isn’t a phobia, but it’s something I avoid when possible!) to get to a rooftop, lean out over the edge, and get a shot of a party in the street below. Rather than worrying about who below will end up wearing whatever I’d eaten in the previous 48-hours, I mostly just worry about not dropping my camera….and making sure my lens cap is off.
I’ve read photojournalists talking about this sort of thing. Seeing the horrors of war through a lens lessens the impact, not because they’re callous and unfeeling, but because it has to. You can’t do that kind of kind of job and not separate yourself from it to a degree. I’m not comparing me taking photos of flowers with spiders on them to the ravages of war, but I think it’s the same concept. The lens, the camera, becomes not just a tool but a filter. It’s not a conscious choice, not for me, anyway (and far be it from me to speak for anyone else!). It’s more that when I lock in on something I want a shot of, I stop worrying about other things. I stop thinking about the spider, or the fall, or the derby jammer that’s falling and the skate coming at my head, or the pyro blast going off a few feet away on stage. I’ve got my camera, I want the shot.
Everything else will just have to wait.
04 October 2017
Times They Are A Changin'
“Where else could you parlay that talent?”
That was a question someone asked me while looking at my concert
photos the other day, after I told them I didn’t do it for a living because no
one really wants to pay for that kind of work. I was flattered by the compliment,
of course, but the answer holds true. I like to consider myself a photographer,
and can even call myself a professional since I have gotten paid on occasion.
The market, however, is saturated with people like me,
though. I saw someone local post on Facebook a few weeks back asking for
recommendations on local photographers that can do indoor and outdoor portrait
photos. I don’t really do portraits because, frankly, I’m terrible at them. (I’ve
done them a few times and I’m lucky I didn’t get hunted with pitchforks.) In
response, I saw at least a dozen names thrown out there, and I only knew one or
two of them. In a town of 40,000 people, that’s a LOT of photography!
DSLR cameras are getting cheaper all the time, with the lower-end cameras getting the performance that cost four or five figures just ten years ago. Cellphone camera technology has gotten to the point that fans shooting photos from the first dozen rows at concerts are getting shots that some pros can’t get, especially when access is limited to shooting further back by the artists.
And artists themselves, they’re finding less and less reason to need photographers. Magazines and newspapers are dying, even online. When it comes to music media, even the venerable Rolling Stone magazine has announced that they’ve put themselves on the market recently. Social media is the new communications method, and at any given shot, a performer can expect hundreds or even thousands of images to pop up instantly after – often during! – the shows. Even radio stations just send their own people and grab cellphone shots to share! (This isn’t a knock, by the way. I know that’s an industry trying to figure things out, too, where they have people wearing more hats than ever before, covering on-air and behind-the-scenes responsibilities!)
DSLR cameras are getting cheaper all the time, with the lower-end cameras getting the performance that cost four or five figures just ten years ago. Cellphone camera technology has gotten to the point that fans shooting photos from the first dozen rows at concerts are getting shots that some pros can’t get, especially when access is limited to shooting further back by the artists.
And artists themselves, they’re finding less and less reason to need photographers. Magazines and newspapers are dying, even online. When it comes to music media, even the venerable Rolling Stone magazine has announced that they’ve put themselves on the market recently. Social media is the new communications method, and at any given shot, a performer can expect hundreds or even thousands of images to pop up instantly after – often during! – the shows. Even radio stations just send their own people and grab cellphone shots to share! (This isn’t a knock, by the way. I know that’s an industry trying to figure things out, too, where they have people wearing more hats than ever before, covering on-air and behind-the-scenes responsibilities!)
So where does that leave me? I’m over 40 now, and I’m just
starting to dip my foot into something that I would love to do for a living,
but it’s a field that’s becoming extinct. My name isn’t Ross Halfin or Todd Owyoung
or Annie Liebovitz. I’m not really getting calls asking me to go to shows (I
have gotten a handful of those from a publicist for smaller, up-and-coming
acts). When I go shoot shows, they’re for myself, and for fun. This might be
shooting myself in the foot if the wrong people read it, but I work freelance
through the local paper because you have to be credentialed through a reputable
source to get in the door. But the deal is I use their name, they run photos
and reviews on occasion, but that’s the exchange. It’s not for-hire work. I
think it’s a fair trade, because it’s gotten me into shows I wouldn’t get any
other way.
But I’m still subject to photo releases from the band, which means they tell me where I can shoot, for how long, and what I can (and can’t) do with the photos afterward. I’ve seen some photographers talking about how they simply refuse to sign those. I guess I could try that, and then I would imagine I would be told to have a nice drive home. As I said, the bands and artists don’t need me at this stage in the game, so they get to set the rules.
Back to the original question: Where can I parlay what I love doing (and what some people apparently see as me doing well) into a money-making gig? The answer to that is…I have no idea. A band might call me tomorrow and offer to take me out as a tour photographer. That would be cool. The odds of that are about the same as them picking a kid from the crowd to join them as a guitar player or singer. Which, I might add, has happened, but not very often. I might get offered a deal as a venue photographer somewhere, but since most places have a few shows a year, maybe as many as a few dozen for a really busy venue, that’s still not likely to pay the bills. And that would certainly require moving, also.
None of this is meant to be a complaint. I’m really loving what I’m doing right now. Would I like to be making money at it? Hell, yes, I would! I just think I’ve come along at a time when the whole business is shifting away from that whole model. And that kills me. But as long as I keep getting “approved” in my e-mails, I’ll keep going. I’m seeing performers I love, shows I never thought I’d see, and I’m getting to shoot some (hopefully) great photos of them.
But I’m still subject to photo releases from the band, which means they tell me where I can shoot, for how long, and what I can (and can’t) do with the photos afterward. I’ve seen some photographers talking about how they simply refuse to sign those. I guess I could try that, and then I would imagine I would be told to have a nice drive home. As I said, the bands and artists don’t need me at this stage in the game, so they get to set the rules.
Back to the original question: Where can I parlay what I love doing (and what some people apparently see as me doing well) into a money-making gig? The answer to that is…I have no idea. A band might call me tomorrow and offer to take me out as a tour photographer. That would be cool. The odds of that are about the same as them picking a kid from the crowd to join them as a guitar player or singer. Which, I might add, has happened, but not very often. I might get offered a deal as a venue photographer somewhere, but since most places have a few shows a year, maybe as many as a few dozen for a really busy venue, that’s still not likely to pay the bills. And that would certainly require moving, also.
None of this is meant to be a complaint. I’m really loving what I’m doing right now. Would I like to be making money at it? Hell, yes, I would! I just think I’ve come along at a time when the whole business is shifting away from that whole model. And that kills me. But as long as I keep getting “approved” in my e-mails, I’ll keep going. I’m seeing performers I love, shows I never thought I’d see, and I’m getting to shoot some (hopefully) great photos of them.
And if a few folks are enjoying what they’re seeing, then
that’s just a cherry on top for me.
11 September 2017
The Battle Rages On
I’ve posted in the past that I won’t be doing a lot of local charitable photo work in the foreseeable future. This really breaks my heart, because there are a lot of great causes out there that definitely deserve the help and the promotion. There are a lot of reasons I’ve had to pull back from these events. Some are selfish – putting more time into doing the concert photography, for example. Some are practical – there are only so many weekends in a year. Some of it has come from the fact that there are a few people out there that just don’t understand the work that goes into photo work, even free work. I don’t make a living at this, so when I’m getting messages at my day job (where I work for silly things like paying bills and eating) to check the status of the non-paying work I did the day before….
But I digress. This isn’t about that. This isn’t a “woe is me.” This is about a charity event I was happy to attend over the weekend. My friend Dawn asked me if I would be willing to get some shots of the party and fashion show that was a fundraiser for the Adams County Suicide Prevention Coalition. I’m not a fashion photographer – if I put on a t-shirt that’s not inside out, it’s a good day. But when Dawn calls for help on these projects, I’ll help anyway I can.
For those who don’t know, Dawn lost her son to suicide in his senior year of high school. I didn’t know Dylan well, maybe a passing word once or twice. But it was at a time my own son was about to start high school. We’ve had our own issue with him, dealing with bullies and personal things that he’s gone through. I won’t say that I can fathom even a fraction of what Dawn or her family or Dylan’s friends have gone through, but I can see the possibilities, and so I’m glad to lend a hand and try and stop it from happening even one more time.
Take a look over at the photo album of the fashion show portion of Saturday night’s event. The models were lovely and handsome, the styles were fabulous with amazing hair and make-up as always. There will be more photos to come of the party, and I do hope everyone enjoys them and had a great time Saturday night. I know, according to Dawn, it was a very successful night from a fundraising side.
If you’re reading this, and you would like to show your support, reach out to the Adams County Suicide Prevention Coalition Facebook page and ask how you can help or donate. If you look through the photos, you’ll see these shirts that say “stigma” with the slash through them:
If you want your own, if you want to help erase the stigma around talking about both suicide and mental health issues in general, contact Ally’s Boutique Quincy. But most importantly, if you have anyone that you’re worried about, or that has expressed thoughts of suicide, just be there for them.
Just listen.
But I digress. This isn’t about that. This isn’t a “woe is me.” This is about a charity event I was happy to attend over the weekend. My friend Dawn asked me if I would be willing to get some shots of the party and fashion show that was a fundraiser for the Adams County Suicide Prevention Coalition. I’m not a fashion photographer – if I put on a t-shirt that’s not inside out, it’s a good day. But when Dawn calls for help on these projects, I’ll help anyway I can.
For those who don’t know, Dawn lost her son to suicide in his senior year of high school. I didn’t know Dylan well, maybe a passing word once or twice. But it was at a time my own son was about to start high school. We’ve had our own issue with him, dealing with bullies and personal things that he’s gone through. I won’t say that I can fathom even a fraction of what Dawn or her family or Dylan’s friends have gone through, but I can see the possibilities, and so I’m glad to lend a hand and try and stop it from happening even one more time.
Take a look over at the photo album of the fashion show portion of Saturday night’s event. The models were lovely and handsome, the styles were fabulous with amazing hair and make-up as always. There will be more photos to come of the party, and I do hope everyone enjoys them and had a great time Saturday night. I know, according to Dawn, it was a very successful night from a fundraising side.
If you’re reading this, and you would like to show your support, reach out to the Adams County Suicide Prevention Coalition Facebook page and ask how you can help or donate. If you look through the photos, you’ll see these shirts that say “stigma” with the slash through them:
If you want your own, if you want to help erase the stigma around talking about both suicide and mental health issues in general, contact Ally’s Boutique Quincy. But most importantly, if you have anyone that you’re worried about, or that has expressed thoughts of suicide, just be there for them.
Just listen.
11 August 2017
How You Gonna See Me Now
Last year some time, I had the very clever idea of tricking out my camera bag with a custom strap. If I wanted to be a rock & roll photog, I should find a way to look the part, make myself stand out from the crowd! So I took a trip to my favorite home for all music-related purchases, Second String Music (5th & Maine, Quincy, IL! Tell 'em Mike sent you....and watch them say "Mike who?") and grabbed a really cool Levy's "No More Mr. Nice Guy" guitar strap. Cool black and red graphics on the front, lyrics to the song on the back (in case the singer of a cover band loses his place, I guess?). This is a stock photo, but it's the same strap I bought:
I threw on a couple of these carabineer-style rings to hook it to the bag and I was ready to go!
Jump to two weeks ago. I was rushing to get to a show that St. Louis traffic had made me late for. I had to park more than a half mile a way and I was hoofing it in a hurry to get there before I missed the window to shoot from the floor. At the worst possible moment, the end of the strap gave way, nearly dumping my camera gear into the street around 6th & Lucas in downtown St. Louis.
I want to be clear here. This is not a knock on Levy's. They're strap, to a guy that knows nothing about guitars and their accessories, seems really well-made and durable. This is also not even remotely trying to say that Second String sold me a bad product. I feel like anyone that knows Rodney and Sheryl would know that anyway, but this is the internet, so clarity is beneficial. No, the broken strap is completely my fault for using it to carry a weight that is probably double or more what the manufacturer intended it to carry. When you get outside of the intended purpose for a product, all bets are off. This time, I lost that bet. But that's on my head.
Rather than as any criticism, I'm making you read this novella so I could set the stage to praise Boyer's Boot and Shoe here in Quincy. I didn't want to give up the idea of using this cool strap for my camera gear, especially with plenty of more concerts lined up that I'm hoping to shoot (including Alice Cooper, coincidentally!). I took the strap out to Boyer's and showed them what happened and explained what I was looking for: Something durable that can carry the load, and something a little better than the rings to hook it to the bag.
In less than a week, this is what the "shoe elves*" at Boyer's turned out for me:
Gorgeous black leather, maintaining the adjustability of the strap, and slick, flat-black hardware that fits like it was created just for the task. I'm ready to get out and give this new rig a shot, but I can't imagine having any sort of hiccups with it. For those interested in such things, I'll get the first real shot to test it out on Monday, 8/14/17, for the Green Day concert at the Hollywood Casino Amphitheatre. Keep an eye on the Bad Wolf Facebook page for photos and to the Herald-Whig for a full review!
Thanks to Boyer's, as well as Second String Music and Levy's for the great product. It makes me feel a little cooler, even if I'm really not...
*Boyer's commercial by Table Sixteen Productions
I threw on a couple of these carabineer-style rings to hook it to the bag and I was ready to go!
Jump to two weeks ago. I was rushing to get to a show that St. Louis traffic had made me late for. I had to park more than a half mile a way and I was hoofing it in a hurry to get there before I missed the window to shoot from the floor. At the worst possible moment, the end of the strap gave way, nearly dumping my camera gear into the street around 6th & Lucas in downtown St. Louis.
I want to be clear here. This is not a knock on Levy's. They're strap, to a guy that knows nothing about guitars and their accessories, seems really well-made and durable. This is also not even remotely trying to say that Second String sold me a bad product. I feel like anyone that knows Rodney and Sheryl would know that anyway, but this is the internet, so clarity is beneficial. No, the broken strap is completely my fault for using it to carry a weight that is probably double or more what the manufacturer intended it to carry. When you get outside of the intended purpose for a product, all bets are off. This time, I lost that bet. But that's on my head.
Rather than as any criticism, I'm making you read this novella so I could set the stage to praise Boyer's Boot and Shoe here in Quincy. I didn't want to give up the idea of using this cool strap for my camera gear, especially with plenty of more concerts lined up that I'm hoping to shoot (including Alice Cooper, coincidentally!). I took the strap out to Boyer's and showed them what happened and explained what I was looking for: Something durable that can carry the load, and something a little better than the rings to hook it to the bag.
In less than a week, this is what the "shoe elves*" at Boyer's turned out for me:
Gorgeous black leather, maintaining the adjustability of the strap, and slick, flat-black hardware that fits like it was created just for the task. I'm ready to get out and give this new rig a shot, but I can't imagine having any sort of hiccups with it. For those interested in such things, I'll get the first real shot to test it out on Monday, 8/14/17, for the Green Day concert at the Hollywood Casino Amphitheatre. Keep an eye on the Bad Wolf Facebook page for photos and to the Herald-Whig for a full review!
Thanks to Boyer's, as well as Second String Music and Levy's for the great product. It makes me feel a little cooler, even if I'm really not...
*Boyer's commercial by Table Sixteen Productions
29 July 2017
It's So Easy
A couple of days ago, I got the e-mail I was hoping for since I sent out the request: I was approved to shoot the Guns N' Roses return to St. Louis.
To set the stage, I'm a music fan. But I'm an old-dude music fan. I'm at the point where the music I listen to and concerts I'd like to see are the same acts that I listened to as a kid. Metallica, Poison, Bon Jovi, Guns N' Roses, Def Leppard, Megadeth - the kings of 80s/90s rock and heavy metal scene. This year, I've gotten approval to shoot every one of those acts (and many others) except Guns. Finally, when they hit the Gateway City, I was allowed to roll in with my camera and capture the moment.
From Quincy to St. Louis is, generally, about two hours. A little more some days, a little less others, but right around there. The doors for the show opened at 5:30, with the opening act taking the stage at 6:30. I needed to be there by 6:00 to be ready and escorted down to the floor. I hit the road at 3:30, so that gave me a little padding in case of traffic problems, right?
Ever driven I-70 in St. Louis, about 4:30 or 5:00 on a rainy weekday afternoon?
About the time I got to the airport, I hit "the traffic." I don't remember it causing me such a long delay before, but by the time I got off of the interstate, it had taken me a little more than three hours to get there. Obviously, that meant I missed the chance to shoot the Deftones opening set.
Now, have you ever decided to go to a big concert where tens of thousands of people are going? How'd you do with parking?
When I finally got into St. Louis, the nightmare continued. Parking lots were full, street construction was making everything a snarl when people were trying to turn and couldn't get back into the flow. It was a bit after 7:00 when I finally got parked...more than half a mile from the venue.
A half-mile doesn't seem like much until you have to hoof it with a moderately heavy gear-bag, and you're in a rush because you were supposed to check in at 7:00 for the show. But I was on the ground, and in contact with the marketing guy running things. I was behind, but the show was, too. So we were all good...
...until my bag-strap broke. I customized my camera bag to use a guitar strap because why be like everyone else? The problem is the strap was designed to hold a guitar that runs 7-10 pounds, not a camera bag weighing more double that weight, if not more. And they're definitely not designed for carrying that weight while power-walking through a metropolitan area.
It's enough to make a grown man cry! But who's got time for that kinda nonsense?
I walked in the door at 7:12 and got pointed to the media holding area. Talked to the media rep and got my photo pass - in this case, a wrist band. I got it put on and was told it was time to head to the floor.
Walking through the crowd, carrying my bag (since the strap broke), is where I started assembling my gear: putting lenses on bodies, attaching everything to the two-camera harness I use. All the while, I was dodging concert-goers and trying to follow the other photographers to get to the floor.
By the time I hit the photographer area, I was a sweat-soaked, winded mess. But I was there, my equipment was ready to go, and I was about to shoot one of the bands I had been listening to for three-quarters of my life.
Shooting concert photography is always an adventure. Most of the time it's a great adventure.
Sometimes, it becomes a story to be told.
 |
| Axl Rose (l) and Slash |
To set the stage, I'm a music fan. But I'm an old-dude music fan. I'm at the point where the music I listen to and concerts I'd like to see are the same acts that I listened to as a kid. Metallica, Poison, Bon Jovi, Guns N' Roses, Def Leppard, Megadeth - the kings of 80s/90s rock and heavy metal scene. This year, I've gotten approval to shoot every one of those acts (and many others) except Guns. Finally, when they hit the Gateway City, I was allowed to roll in with my camera and capture the moment.
From Quincy to St. Louis is, generally, about two hours. A little more some days, a little less others, but right around there. The doors for the show opened at 5:30, with the opening act taking the stage at 6:30. I needed to be there by 6:00 to be ready and escorted down to the floor. I hit the road at 3:30, so that gave me a little padding in case of traffic problems, right?
 |
| Slash |
About the time I got to the airport, I hit "the traffic." I don't remember it causing me such a long delay before, but by the time I got off of the interstate, it had taken me a little more than three hours to get there. Obviously, that meant I missed the chance to shoot the Deftones opening set.
Now, have you ever decided to go to a big concert where tens of thousands of people are going? How'd you do with parking?
When I finally got into St. Louis, the nightmare continued. Parking lots were full, street construction was making everything a snarl when people were trying to turn and couldn't get back into the flow. It was a bit after 7:00 when I finally got parked...more than half a mile from the venue.
 |
| Richard Fortus |
...until my bag-strap broke. I customized my camera bag to use a guitar strap because why be like everyone else? The problem is the strap was designed to hold a guitar that runs 7-10 pounds, not a camera bag weighing more double that weight, if not more. And they're definitely not designed for carrying that weight while power-walking through a metropolitan area.
It's enough to make a grown man cry! But who's got time for that kinda nonsense?
 |
| (l to r) Duff McKagan, Richard Fortus, Frank Ferrer |
Walking through the crowd, carrying my bag (since the strap broke), is where I started assembling my gear: putting lenses on bodies, attaching everything to the two-camera harness I use. All the while, I was dodging concert-goers and trying to follow the other photographers to get to the floor.
 |
| Duff McKagan |
Shooting concert photography is always an adventure. Most of the time it's a great adventure.
Sometimes, it becomes a story to be told.
 |
| Axl Rose |
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