Thanks to Do312, I won two passes to see Andrew WK on Sunday, March 25th, at a live studio taping at JBTV. At noon.
Well, I thought.
Andrew WK at noon on a Sunday. Ok.
Along with my friend Mike (thanks for the photo, Mike!), I showed up at the studio in River North "
exactly between 11:40 and 11:55 AM," as the email specified.
Along with about 50 other people, we crowded into JBTV's stage area (which was cool, and dim, and foggy).
Eight people filtered onstage and began to play (one, a women in fishnets, red lipstick, and a shiny black leotard. I am assuming this is his wife) - and then they introduced Andrew WK.
He leaped to the front of the stage in his white jeans, his face lit up by a gigantic and vaguely sinister grin.
I am very, very happy, and maybe slightly mentally unstable, but this will be fun!!!!, the grin said.
As if spurred on by his mere presence, everyone around me started moshing. I threw my elbows out to the side and braced myself (as a person who is small of stature, I have to watch myself around over-enthusiastic tall men who are trying to dance while two inches away from me).
The crowd surged forward, hands stretching toward the stage to try and catch a bit of the man's sweaty, long-haired radiance. The crowd shrieked and danced for "Party Hard," and "She is Beautiful."
And then, Andrew WK said that he had a special guitar. It was handed to him. On the back, his face, over and over. Then he turned it around. Behold:
Yes. It is shaped like a slice of pizza. Also, if you zoom in, maybe you can see that it says PIZZA on the neck. Also, Party Hard.
Andrew WK kept shoving his microphone straight down the front of his white jeans and underwear. Needed to play the keys? Mic in the crotch. Guitar time? Mic in the in crotch. It looked uncomfortable, but this is Andrew WK we are talking about. He Parties Hard. He Parties with a microphone jammed in the front of his underwear, no matter the discomfort or sweat.
We reached the last song, too soon, though I was already covered in my sweat (and everyone else's sweat).
"This song is called HEADBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG," roared the grinning man onstage.
He instructed us to headbang when he said headbang in the middle of the song. Easy enough. We all headbanged. We would have done anything he asked, at this point. We were under his spell.
At the end of the show, everyone held their hands up to get a high-five from the man in white. I held mine up too. Our palms touched, briefly. I felt a shock of electricity course through my body, a jolt of pure energy from the glowing angel that is Andrew WK.
PARTY HARD, my brain screamed. PARTY HARD. HEADBANG. A message from on high?
Mike and I left, blinking in the sunlight.
It was 12:45 pm.
