Jack's Mannequin

full blog found at:
http://misery-kids.blogspot.com

Fuck yeah, we can live like this...

I'll admit, I probably hold on to things too long. I still have shirts, hanging patiently in my closet, that haven't fit me since 2008. I keep a few faded photographs of old girlfriends in a shoebox, not because I still feel romantic inklings towards these girls, but because I think that someday I will want to flip through them and remember what it was like to be young and in love. And I still listen to songs I loved in middle school and bands that are long-since defunct, not because I am ignorant of new music, but because sometimes a song can be so closely tied to one's memories that it becomes almost as important as the memories themselves.

Something Corporate is one of those bands. Their music served as a soundtrack for so much of my adolescence, a crucial track in the playlist of my youth. I remember being 16, drinking Keystone Light with my friends in basements, listening to "Leaving Through The Window" over and over, memorizing lead singer Andrew McMahon's every inflection. I remember the Warped Tour, seeing the band live for the first time, and watching in amazement as Andrew, though having broken his foot by jumping off his piano in the previous city of the tour, still managed to run around the stage in a walking boot while pointing at the crowd for the choruses: "Fuck You Jordan!" we all screamed in unison. I remember forming our own shitty bands, much inspired by bands like Something Corporate. We all wanted to be rock stars.

In 2004, the band I was in at the time had a chance to open for an act called "Jack's Mannequin" at the (now closed) Creepy Crawl in Saint Louis. "Who the hell is this 'Jacob's Manicure' band?" I scoffed in skepticism, obviously not having a CLUE what I was talking about. "It's the lead singer of Something Corporate Andrew McMahon's side-project, assface" said Kyle, obviously upset at my ignorance. Oh shit. Unbeknownst to me Andrew had formed a new group, and this was to be their debut tour...and we, shitty Midwest nobodies, were going to open for them.

As the story goes, we never got the opportunity to meet Andrew or play on the same stage as him; he was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia (from which he is now in remission) and the tour was canceled abruptly. From then on, however, I began listening to Jack's Mannequin and became an avid fan of Andrew's songwriting style and lyrical sincerity. His songs, especially from the album "Everything in Transit", seemed to reflect my own beliefs about the necessity for leaving, the difficulty in coming home, and the complete lack of interest in monetary possessions or wealth (as he sings, "being poor was never better"). More so than that, Andrew's songwriting is a celebration of life, often stripped of varnish and presented in the least grandiose terms. He speaks to me, and that is why I love his music.

* * *

Last Thursday, Jack's Mannequin came to The Pageant in St. Louis, a decent sized venue with little charm but more-than-adequate facilities. We arrived in time for the second act, a three-piece called "Jukebox the Ghost" who were quite adept at piano rock and deserve a listen if my fair readers have a spare minute or two. (I likened them to Ben Folds Five...borderline cheesy, but with enough talent to back it all up). As the roadies were wheeling out Andrew's piano to a roar of applause (how often does a frontman's instrument get an ovation??), I took a second to survey the crowd; there were some young faces and a few hipster here and there (looking ashamed or uninterested, as hipsters tend to do), but the majority of the crowd seemed to be fairly homogeneous - twenty-something kids, most of whom probably grew up on Something Corporate and loyally followed one their childhood heroes to his new musical endeavor, looking on with bright eyes and anticipation.

The show did not disappoint. Andrew played all the favorites. He was magnetic, never allowing the audience to look anywhere but on himself. He set the hook by running around the stage, beckoning the crowd to participate between breakdowns, then won us over by playing a piano-only rendition of "Swim" on a blue and green lit stage. The "obligatory" encore, as Andrew put it, was exactly what we all expected, as he saved the biggest crowd-pleasers for last and finished the set "Holiday From Real". I sang along with every word, and suddenly I was 16 again, with nothing but the music and the lights and the endless possibilities...

"Fuck yeah, we can live like this..."

Just because we grow up, doesn't mean out heroes have to die. Thanks for the memories, Andrew, and here's to a lifetime more.