chase petra, sydney sprague, and pool kids at the echo - 7/15/23

I’ve been in Los Angeles for seven and a half weeks now, and still every time I walk around my own neighborhood, or a new part of the city, I get this crazy realization that I actually live here. I’m having so much fun learning my way around my neighborhood, trying new vegan restaurants, meeting new people, and spending time with friends.

The first show I photographed since the move was on July 7: Sam MacPherson and Ruel at the Shrine, next to the USC campus (fun fact: I almost went to USC! It’s wild to think how differently my life could’ve turned out if I had - but hey, here I am anyway!). I had previously been to the Shrine a decade ago, while on tour with PETA and Steve Aoki - I definitely had some flashbacks while waiting in line! Just over a week later, I headed to The Echo in Echo Park. I’d been to The Echoplex years ago (on another tour with PETA, I caught a show there on a night off) but never to The Echo itself.

I arrived early to take portraits of Chase Petra (blog post with those photos coming soon!); with plenty of time to go before doors, I grabbed some pizza next door to the venue (it was super good - really nice, fresh tasting tomato sauce - but I wished I’d ordered a second slice!), and spent some time wandering around a bookstore and a thrift shop and talking to the other folks waiting for the show.

The Echo does not have a photo pit, and the lighting was also… not great. The show was sold-out, too. So my still-pretty-new camera and I were in for a challenge. Chase Petra was up first; I started near the corner of stage left, before making my way around to the other side and then back again. I increased my ISO and played around with shutter speed, and ultimately decided to do the whole photo set in black and white. This way, all my focus could go to capturing the moments I wanted to capture - even if the colors of the lights weren’t flattering. a

By the way, Chase Petra may have been the first act of the night - but that didn’t stop the crowd from cheering for an encore.

Sydney Sprague was up next. I didn’t take as many photos of her set; the crowd was intense (in the best way!), and I needed a breather and also some water. So, after I got a few shots, I filled up my water bottle and sat down to watch the rest of her set.

Finally, Pool Kids closed out the night and holy shit, I knew they would rock, but they put on such a good show. I’d known Andy Anaya since the days of You Blew It! (RIP, btw), and it was great to see him again. (It’s so fun for me to catch up with people as they ask about the move and how I’m liking LA - honestly, I’m thriving and couldn’t be happier that I’m here). Pool Kids put on the kind of show that it didn’t matter if you knew their songs or not; you’d be having a blast either way because that energy was off the walls. (As were the crowdsurfers.)

At shows like this without a barricade, I usually shoot the first three songs or so; depending on the room and depending on the photos I captured in the first three songs, I may go in for a few more shots. Pool Kids had everyone pull out their phones to light up the room towards the end of the set, and you know I had to get a photo of that.

I wanted to share two, non-photo related things I really enjoyed about this show:

1. The crowd went OFF for all three artists! You know how most shows, the crowd goes OFF for the headliner, but not so much for the openers? (Or there are the rare shows where the crowd goes OFF for one of the openers, but doesn’t seem to care about the headlining act?) That was not the case here. The energy was on 10 all night.

2. Gender diversity in ALL THREE ARTISTS! When I started photographing shows and interviewing artists in 2011, it was a Big Deal to me if there was ONE single woman on stage in a three-act show. Have I mentioned that Genevieve, the guitarist of Chase Petra, absolutely SHREDDED? Because she did, and that was SO COOL. I saw so little representation of women on stages when I started out, and it makes me so, so happy to see that happening more now. Here’s to even more in the future.

a place fit for kings and queens: keep moving on. (A R I Z O N A at The Mann in Philadelphia, PA - 5/11/23)

As I pull out my phone to write this blog, I'm in an Uber coming home from seeing A R I Z O N A at the Mann. It's Thursday, May 11; the time on the driver's clock reads 9:27 (my phone says it's only 9:22), and as I clutch the shirt and hoodie I purchased, I think back to the night I've had. I'm deliriously happy – it's spilling out of me - and I've had the time of my life.

This entire week has been awful. Nothing has been going my way, and on Wednesday, I had the worst headache pain I'd had in a while. The pain was blinding, burning nerve pain that radiated from the base of my skull up along my scalp. Heating pads, stretches, muscle relaxers – nothing was helping. Why does my head hurt so badly? I flashed back to winter and felt sick, reliving the trauma. A bad nightmare rearing its ugly head, my mind spiraled: Have I gone through all this physical therapy and trialed all these medications for nothing? Will I ever find true relief? Will this ever end?

When I woke up the morning of the show, my head felt fine, but my mind was stuck in the same dark place: will going to the show worsen my pain? Will it be too much activity, too much sound and light, too much time on my feet? Will my heart race uncontrollably, will I have to sit down or risk nearly passing out? Will I regret going to see A R I Z O N A? I had seen the band once before, in 2019, at The Filmore in Philadelphia. They were headlining that night, and I interviewed them before the show (in 2020, I got interviewed about that). I'd been thinking about that show ever since – how much fun I'd had, how it made me fall in love with A R I Z O N A's music even more – and despite my fears of feeling unwell, I knew I couldn't miss this one.

Walking towards the entrance and through the gate, I could feel my heartbeat getting faster and my body nudging me to sit down. As I climbed the stairs, I could feel my heart racing, beating faster than it had recently (I'm on medication for this – what's going on?). I quickly ate a salt packet and drank a Gatorade; as soon as I could catch my breath, I went to the merch booth and bought an A R I Z O N A shirt. Making my way to the crowd, I was happy to find a spot that wasn't too packed. God, I need to lie down. I laid down on the turf for a few minutes, praying my heart would slow enough that I could comfortably stand to enjoy the show. I prayed I'd be able to be on my feet, that my body would cooperate.

After Julia Wolf's set, I made my way closer to the stage. It's here; it's happening. I'm about to see A R I Z O N A again. Zach, Nate, and David took the stage, opening with "Freaking Out," and I found myself thinking back to the summer of 2020 when I'd first written about the song. At that time, I'd been plagued by debilitating "sleep issues" that seemed to have no answer. And in 2022, as I went to visit after visit with a sleep specialist and did two sleep studies, the mystery around my insomnia only grew. I feared that I was crazy, that my inability to get a restful night of sleep was my fault somehow. Now, I'm pretty close to an answer (no, it's not "anxiety"), I've finally learned what I need to do to fix my sleep, and I feel fucking free. I lost myself in "Freaking Out," feeling so connected to the music that I couldn't tell if there were five people or five thousand around me – all that mattered was the song being performed just a few feet before me.

I guess you could say I was practicing mindfulness. But the thing about mindfulness is that when you're in pain, it is really hard. Because pain – especially bad headache pain – takes over everything. It messes with your mind, and you can't enjoy the moment; all you can do, think, and feel, is pain. I was desperate and willing to try anything. I tried drug after drug – four different migraine preventatives, three different triptans, two rounds of steroids, a short course of an anti-convulsant, and plenty of NSAIDs – and got nowhere. In January, after 53 days of being at a constant level 9 pain (I'm saving "level 10" for pain that knocks me unconscious), I got nerve blocks – numbing medications injected into my scalp. The next day – day 54 – I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the worst was over. Only it wasn't quite over. Soon enough, my pain was back up to a level 8, and I was finding it impossible to hold out hope that things might get better, that I might finally find relief.

It was February 8; I wondered if I should give up, if it were time to accept that this pain was my life. Is it even worth it to try anything else? Is the heartbreak of another method of relief failing even worth the potential that it might help? I wanted to get better, but I could barely get through each day. I dreamed of going to shows but could hardly wash the dishes or cook dinner. It all seemed so out of reach. And then, on February 8, A R I Z O N A released "Moving On." The timing was perfect – "We'll be alright if we just keep moving on, keep moving on, keep moving on," Zach chanted in the chorus. Okay – I'll keep trying. If I keep trying, if I keep moving on, I'll be alright. The next day, February 9, I had my first physical therapy visit – I was given some stretches to practice daily and felt immediate relief from my pain. There was surely a long road ahead, but maybe things were finally looking up.

Cut to three months later, at the show: a few songs into A R I Z O N A's set, I realized I didn't have a headache. I reveled in the moment and thanked whatever spiritual being was looking out for me. I looked up at the stage, recognizing the opening notes of "Moving On," and the lights shining on Zach, Nate, and David shone like a clarion call directly to me: there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's right in front of my face. The performance of "Moving On" could've lasted three and a half minutes or an entire lifetime, a lifetime I continued to soak into over the following few songs.

When the band began playing "Still Alive," my chest burned so heavily with relief, I thought I was hearing things; after all, this was a song I'd turned to many times when I needed a reminder that I could get through this, and the timing felt like it was made just for me. Now, it felt like a celebration. From November till March, I was just existing. The pain in my head and neck was so bad, I was a shell of myself. I'd cry to myself at night: I miss living my life. This pain has taken over everything. I want my life back. And now, thanks to a new migraine preventative - Ajovy, the fifth one I've tried - and continued physical therapy, I'm getting my life back. I'm here, I'm alive, and I'm listening to one of my favorite bands play one of my favorite songs. "Still Alive" is a proclamation of triumph through adversity; if the members of A R I Z O N A can get through the experiences that inspired the song, I can get through this. As they played "Cross Your Mind," I thought back to the first time I'd heard that song in 2018. I was fixated on someone that didn't even matter. I was a year out from knee surgery, and I took for granted that I could exercise, go to a concert, and go grocery shopping without pain. Now, I don't take any of that for granted because I know how easily it can be taken away from me.

After toasting to their new album release – just a few hours away – Zach told the crowd they'd be playing a new song. There's something so special about your first exposure to a song being hearing it live – I couldn't believe I was so lucky. Introducing "Graveyard," Zach explained that the new album, A R I Z O N A, is about "perspective" - and at that moment, I felt I had all I needed. The sun had set, and a refreshing breeze was coming in as he sang of a place fit for kings and queens. The song filled the blood in my veins, and I was completely entranced. A R I Z O N A is more than a band and this night is more than a concert – this is everything.

Sitting in that Uber on my way home, my feet were sore from standing in impractical shoes. But… I was able to stand for the show – something that wouldn't have been possible a few months ago when my orthostatic intolerance was untreated. And… I didn't have a headache by the time I got home. It's Friday evening as I finish writing this, and I don't have a headache now either. This doesn't mean I'm cured – but it does mean I'm getting better. And realizing that I really, truly am getting better feels all the sweeter now because of what an amazing time I had last night.