Last Saturday I went on a cultural expedition…to Anaheim. Yes, the biggest, baddest hip hop concert in the country,
Wango Tango! (insert shrill pre-pubescent screaming here) You all may be wondering, what the hell was I doing at concert featuring artists commonly heard on commercial mass market radio? Well, the tix were free through work, and I got this nifty plastic “Artist Guest” pass that allowed me to hang out in the “Aloha” themed tent with the (sort of reasonably priced) cash bar and free (kind of crappy) food. Big holla out to Becca for taking on this anthropological experiment with me. It was fun, and a different kind of musical experience for sure. None of them hippy dippy jam bands here.
So, let me just say that I have not been further out of my element since, well I don’t know when. All of Angel Stadium was filled with baby sluts and wanna be baby slut mommas. I may be an old prude here, but when did it become acceptable for 14-year-olds (or their mothers) to dress like hoochies and bump and grind suggestively to music? I am apparently way out of date in the fashion department also. Blond with dark roots is in, you must own oversized hoop earrings or some other garishly large yellow gold jewelry with your name on it, and don’t even think about leaving your house without wearing a skirt like
this, preferably so short that a gust of wind blurs the fine line between gynecologist and the general public.
Ah, but the music. Honestly, not all of it was as bad as I expected. And Ryan Seacrest was there. Soooo dreamy. But seriously, I consumed more advertising than tunes during my 5-hour foray into the hip hop world. I really want to go buy some Pepsi at Albertsons now, and then maybe go get a boob job. And perhaps a rhinoplasty too, there’s a 20% discount for multiple procedures down at the plastic surgery place. (I wish I was kidding, but I saw the ad for the cosmetic surgery clinic no less than three times on the jumbo-tron. Three times!). The format was much like that of most mainstream radio stations these days: commercials, commercials, consume, consume, slight interruption of fluffy pop music, BUY THIS! It was exhausting.
But now, the musical highlights:
The Black Eyed Peas had a solid overall performance. They busted out with "Let's Get it Started," "Shut Up" and "Where is the Love." Good stuff. It’s kind of embarrassing but I enjoy that one Kelly Clarkson single “Since You’ve Been Gone.” The Backstreet Boys, well what can I say, Backstreet’s Back, alright! Will Smith has an ego the size of Mars, but his show was pretty entertaining. Will Smith
is Hip Hop, by the way. His T-shirt told me so. And his performance had roller girls, which I totally dig. We got jiggy wit it, partied in the city where the heat is on, and Will told us how he became the prince of a town called Bel-Air. Good times.
We hung around for the first couple numbers by Gwen Stefani. I had high hopes, as I used to be a No Doubt fan back in the day. I even own Tragic Kingdom. Her first song included a mini marching band, which I thought was awesome. What was she
wearing? I don’t get it either. Drum Majorette on crack in 6-inch heels? Whatever. Then the music started really sucking and we just had to leave.
Other lessons learned: Mechanic jumpsuits are
HOT! (Thanks for that one Ciara.) J-Lo really is Bootylicious. Lindsay Lohan should never sing. Never.
We hung out a bit with a couple of my co-workers during the show, and that was fun. Luckily none of us were taking it seriously and we all had a good time mocking the popular culture at large. It was fun, but I’m not so sure I’d do it again. Once might be enough.
Peace out, yo!
