On November 25th 2008, the Stay Weird tour showed up at the Fillmore in downtown Wausau. Seven metal and hardcore bands had been lined up for the big event, and playing were some of the biggest bands Wausau had seen in years. The two big names were Heavy Heavy Low Low and Fear Before, but the bill also included Kill For The Fame, Dispatch to Sunrise, Glasgow Memoirs, Wrath of the Girth, and Dr. Manhattan.

The Fillmore was a bar converted from the old Rogers theater. Lined down in great red flashing letters was “The Fillmore” with strobbing gold lights under the entry way. One of the bands was unloading from a minivan out front as my companion and I stepped inside. The stench of cigarettes intermixed with warm beer filled my nostrils as I moved in, bypassing the hefty ten dollar entry fee, declaring myself as a member of the Associated Press. I spotted Luke, Bre and a few others I knew, but the place was roaring with strangers. The real veterans of the local music scene.

I questioned Bre, a veteran member of the local music scene, and she spoke regarding the experience of live music for young people in the community.

“We all need the inspiration, to keep living each day to the fullest and music does that for everybody’s soul,” Bre said. The lights were dim, to my right there was a semi-circle bar with a few kids sitting around on stools sipping drinks. The walls were lined with the album covers of endless random bands ranging from Pink Floyd to Meat Loaf. Moving past the bar area there was a pool table, just beyond down a few steps was the main amphitheater where one of the bands was already rocking out. There was a crowd of about one hundred eager onlookers, looking from about sixteen to twenty-five in age. This was the emo scene alright. The girls were dressed like guys and the guys were dressed like girls. They stood in groups talking, running around shouting and whooping, jumping on each other’s back excited and in their respective elements. Darkness covered the audience surrounding the stage below, flashing with random strobe lights of blue, green and yellow.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” I mumbled to myself.

Glasgow Memoirs was on stage as I stepped down into the amphitheater, cigarette smoke lingering in the blue and gold lights illuminating the stage. The music was heavy metal, the vocalist going from growling to screaming to yelling into the microphone. The crowd surged against the stage as the music rose, and the heavy guitar chords struck. Suddenly the crowd pulled back and about 70% of the onlookers were consumed in a rapidly forming mosh pit. The kids crashed into each other shouting into the blur of the music pounding from the huge speakers, bodies shaking, foaming from the mouths, dancing, shoving, punching and screaming in beautiful destruction.

The lights went dim like a blackout and everyone seemed surprised for a moment, and the crowd pulled back in unison, again crashing together into the midst of another mosh pit formed like a tornado comes suddenly from the gray dark clouds.

Glasgow Memoirs finished their set and I stepped over to several guys who had been in the midst of the mosh pits and asked them about the phenomenon so common to metal and hardcore music shows.

“It’s like an adrenaline rush, and the people are all filled with energy and putting it out to each other,” said Justin Hemstock, guitarist of the local band Synapse.

“Is it dangerous?” I asked.

“Not if you know what you’re doing, if you’ve got physical strength and you can stand up on your own, and push over something that’s falling on you, then you’re fine. You got your basic survival skills, you’re fine.”

“It seems like people are friendly here, pickin each other up and shit,” I replied.

“Oh yeah,” replied Hemstock. “We don’t wanna hurt anyone, we just wanna have a good time.”

I meandered about the Fillmore as the various bands took the stage one by one. Wrath of the Girth played, then Dr. Manhattan, leading into Heavy Heavy Low Low. I took a step outside for a breath of fresh air while the bands played their music. There were a few people standing around outside, and one Jacob Moore approached me, a former member of Synapse and veteran of the local music scene both on and off stage.

He said,” With these local shows it’s all about stage presence and having energy, cuz I used to be in local bands and even when we weren’t the best band there if we put out the best show and the most enthusiasm everyone, you know, pumped up. So really it’s not so much about talent or skill or anything as much as it’s just like rocking everybody out.” 

“Why do all these people show up here? Is it about the energy?” I asked.

“A lot of the people that come to these shows have been coming to these shows for years, ever since we started having shows in Wausau. For some people it’s just like a social thing, it’s like you know they get to hear music and it’s just you know, fun.”

Everyone seemed pressed up to the front of the stage as I came back inside stepping down into the amphitheater. Fear Before had taken the stage, and were putting on a crazy show. The crowd brawled madly, bouncing about crashing into each other, laughing, screaming and watching intently to the stage. The lead singer’s eyes were hot red, and he scanned them across the crowd as he sang dark lyrics tracking from one pair of eyes to the next. Fear Before jammed with precision and the members bounced and danced about on the stage in perfect cohesion, like a finely tuned instrument. The overall quality of the music was high, and the crowd loved every moment of it. The energy of the band and the music seemed to enrich the crowd, and the band, the music and the crowd became one, all working as one in joy and amazement at the spectacle of the high intensity culminations of the fast paced moments.