So yeah. I went to the Chicago concert last night. Some friends had all-access passes, and I had enough morbid curiosity to check it out.
From an anthropological perspective, it was a fascinating evening. The backstage experience felt like a wax museum dedicated to mid-eighties FM radio, and the show itself was like watching my dad’s rotary club perform the world’s greatest karaoke to a room full of five thousand people who voted yes on Prop 8.
I can’t say that the band rocked, because that’s not what they do. Nevertheless, out of respect for my elders, I will say that they played the shit out of their instruments.
They destroyed the room with those soft rock love ballads, no doubt inspiring a wave of viagra-assisted missionary position sex throughout most of Burbank and parts of Pasadena.
It was the very definition of “so bad, it’s good.”