Fastball, Vertical Horizon, and Everclear

This is my friend Robyn. She's from the 90s, like me. 

I mean. We were both born in the 80s, but that really doesn't make a person an 80s child. We were 80s babies, but we became teenagers in the era of tattoo chokers and sunflowers and skinny eyebrows and bleached tips and over-sized plaid shirts and little, tiny, colour-tinted sunglasses. It was a time of questionable fashion choices, terrible internet connections and fantastic music. 

When I found out Vertical Horizon, Everclear, and Fastball were all coming to Regina, I asked Robyn if she remembered any of them. In response, she showed me her grade 9 yearbook: Robyn Barbour, Favourite Band: Vertical Horizon. 

So obviously, she came with me to the show last night. I wore plaid, and a choker necklace, and purple lipstick, which was already gone by the time we took our first picture. I'm terrible at wearing lipstick.

But, guys, I felt so young. I mean, I know I'm young now, but I felt so young. Extra young. When Fastball played "The Way," I was 11 again, cruising down the highway in the back of my best friend's mom's minivan, singing at the top of my lungs and feeling so happy about my new platform shoes, which I felt certain made me look just a little bit more like a Spice Girl.

But when I opened my eyes and looked at Fastball...I felt older. Extra older. Because Fastball is older. (At first, when I typed that, I thought, Should I type that? Is that rude? What if Fastball reads this? But I mean, I think Fastball knows they've gotten older.) 

They still put on a good show though.

Vertical Horizon played next, and killed it. Nostalgia City. It was a different kind of nostalgia than the Jimmy Eat World variety, though. Where Jimmy Eat World reminds me of exceptional moments from my teen/young adult years, Vertical Horizon reminds me of all the ordinary ones, because I mostly heard them on the radio during ordinary moments. Riding the school bus. Shopping for a new vacuum cleaner with my mom. Walking through the mall with my friends. 

Here are too many pictures of Vertical Horizon:

And then Everclear. So great. The guitarist gave me a pick. And then he saw me give it to a screaming, crying girl standing beside me. She screamed a swear word in my face. She was so happy. He gave me another pick. He held his guitar down in front of me so I could strum it, but it was kind of awkward because I was holding my phone and had sweaty hands and have never strummed a guitar from that angle before. And then he wanted to shake hands even though I don't like shaking hands, especially with sweaty people. He was really sweaty. But I was really sweaty too. I guess we're friends. 

Their set was really great, especially "Wonderful," which was dedicated to the memory of Chris Cornell.

And after the show, as we were leaving, we heard someone yelling at us. It was the guitarist from Vertical Horizon who had come to say hi and give Robyn a pick. He offered me a dirty earplug, but I declined, and tried not to take it as an insult. We took a picture together and discussed geography and parenthood. Then me and Robyn went home, happy about our old nostalgia and new friends. 

I miss the 90s.

The End.