live

lake street dive and celisse at the greek - 7/27/24

in

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged a show I’ve shot - but I recently shot Lake Street Dive and Celisse at The Greek, and this show felt blog-worthy.

Perhaps relevant background: I recovered from COVID just in time to make it to this show (still masked, of course, out of precaution). As I walked to the bus that day, hoping the connecting shuttle would come in time, I felt a bit like Jonah Hill in Get Him to the Greek. The shuttle did come on time and I actually wound up getting to The Greek a few minutes earlier than planned - doors were opening, but there was over an hour until the opener, Celisse, would go on.

Before arriving at the venue, I was nervous that I wouldn’t have the right lens - large outdoor venues came sometimes have high stages (which = potential for unflattering, “up the nose” shots, and the artist being far away and tough to photograph) and many will place photographers at the soundboard, would I wish I had a longer telephoto lens with me? Well, I actually did just fine with the lenses I bought - my Tamron 24-70mm/f2.8 zoom (this is my go-to lens for most of my concert work!), a Rokinon 12mm/f2.8 fisheye, and a Nikkor 50mm/f1.4 prime.

I was pretty stoked that I was able to photograph Celisse’s full set from the photo pit. When she went on, it was still light out, which made for some gorgeous shots. I started with the trusty 24-70mm, which was perfect for individual shots of Celisse as well as her bandmates (both of whom are named Sam).

Using a fisheye lens at a large venue is something I don’t always see other photographers do - I think the tendency is often big venue = bigger stage = use a longer telephoto lens to get close-ups. But The Greek is such an iconic venue, I knew I wanted to celebrate that in my photos, so I pulled out my fisheye (which also allowed me to get these fun shots that show the crowd as well).

Using a prism has become a “signature” technique of mine that a lot of artists I’ve worked with love. Here’s a fun fact: you’ll get the best results with a prism when shooting at a wide aperture, which is why I stuck with my 50mm prime for these prism shots. When shooting with a prism, I typically shoot between f1.4 and f1.8.

After Celisse, Lake Street Dive as on. Their photo policy was one I hadn’t experienced before- as opposed to the typical “first 3 from the photo pit, no flash”, I was able to shoot songs 4, 5, and 6 from the photo pit and the rest of the show from anywhere else in the venue. This was actually a really nice way to do it - I got to watch the band and study their movements on this stage before zoning in in the pit.

I went with a mix of color and black and white for these photos. Lake Street Dive used a lot of colorful lights (lots and lots of blue for the first song I was in the pit for); in some cases though, depending on where the light was hitting the subject of each photo, the image just seemed to look better in black and white. Also, with social media focusing on vertical content lately, I’ve been really prioritizing including a good amount of vertical photos in my galleries - specifically, cropping to a 4x5 aspect ratio for Instagram.

Up next I pulled out my fisheye again. It was important to me that I not only capture horizontal wide shots, but some vertical ones, too. I think it’s easy to neglect wide-angle vertical shots but I’m really enjoying that viewpoint lately.

After leaving the photo pit, I walked back a bit towards the soundboard to grab a few photos. I did pull out my 50mm and prism again, though I didn’t spend much time with that. Instead…

…I hiked all the way to the very top of the venue. Ok, ok, maybe “hike” seems like a strong word… but keep in mind I had just recovered from COVID, and even now - two weeks after the show - I’m still dealing with increased lightheadedness and tachycardia (fast heart rate), especially when walking uphill or up stairs. So… it certainly felt like a bit of a hike!

But seriously, it was worth it. I love a good crowd shot and my favorite place to shoot a crowd shot is as far back as I can get, while still having a view of the stage. At The Greek, where each level is higher than the one in front of it, that was no problem. I had a clear view of the stage from the very last row.

I definitely had to play with my settings a bit for these (see how dark the crowd is and how BRIGHT the stage is in comparison?) - but also, I had to wait for the right moments to grab these shots, when the light was just right. I’m proud of how these turned out - and hoping I get to photograph another show at the Greek soon!

CARRY IT WITH YOU: on walk the moon

in

Too loud; too quiet. Too sensitive; too harsh. Too anxious and restless; too depressed and lazy. Too this, too that – too much, too much, too much. I’ve been called all of these things, and it’s true - I am A Lot. It turns out I have ADHD, but I didn’t learn this until not quite 2 years ago – so for the first three decades of my life, I was plagued by the knowledge that I was, indeed, Too Much.

 

I was drawn to Walk The Moon’s music because everything about it, like everything about me, screamed “too much.” With Walk The Moon, “too much” wasn’t a bad thing – it was celebrated. Here, there was no being stuck in your head with worry – here, you’re pulled out of your head and into your body to enjoy, life, feel the moment. Their music makes me feel like I’m on top of the world, even in life’s dark moments.

 

Walk The Moon recently announced their hibernation, and I’ve been feeling sentimental as I think about so many wonderful memories I have around them and their music. How they’ve made me feel like I could fly when I wasn’t sure I could walk. How they’ve made me feel like being “too much” isn’t a problem – it’s something to celebrate. Below, read through some of my favorite Walk The Moon memories.

 

Sometime in the fall of 2014 – I’m driving through the suburban NJ town I grew up in with the radio on (my car at the time didn’t have a working CD player, nor did it have a place to plug in an aux cord – so radio it was), and I hear “Shut Up and Dance” for the first time. Wait a minute – Walk The Moon, isn’t that the band with that “Anna Sun” song? I look it up when I get home – it is. I listen to Talking Is Hard on repeat; it’s catchy, it’s upbeat, but I’m not sure I get it.

April 2015 – I get an email with a last-minute confirmation: I have a ticket and photo pass to photograph Walk The Moon at Terminal 5 in New York City! I had no idea what a treat I was in for when I walked into the venue that night. As a photographer, I love the vibrant lights on stage; as a writer and a human, I love the stories vocalist Nick Petricca tells between songs. In particular, the meditation before “I Can Lift A Car” grabs me – it gives me a sense of ecstatic joy and makes me feel powerful, like I could do anything. I get it now: I walk out carrying with me a sense of peace and magical energy, and a comfort that it’s okay to be weird. I walk out a Walk The Moon fan for life.

 

January 2016 – I’m packing my bags to leave for tour – four months on the road, driving across the country and back again - and as I’m getting ready, I make a “driving” playlist on Spotify. I choose songs I knew I’d never skip, songs that could fit any mood. I put the entirety of Walk The Moon and Talking Is Hard on there, and wonder if my tour mates are familiar.

May 2016 – We’re in Long Beach, California and tour is nearly over. I’m driving the van and by chance, just as I turn onto the Pacific Coast Highway – craning my neck, wondering when I’ll get a glimpse of the ocean – “Anna Sun” comes on. I hadn’t queued it up, but I guess Spotify’s randomization is on my side; everything is beautiful and everything is perfect.

June 2016 – My brother and I are traveling through Thailand together; he’s just finished teaching English, and I’ve just finished my spring tour. I’m fascinated by how different everything is from anything I’ve ever seen; overwhelmed in the most positive way at the realization of just how far from home I am. We ride a moped from Kanchanaburi to Erawan falls; we stop to eat som tam (papaya salad) that’s impossibly spicy. I listen to “Anna Sun” as we watch the sunset over the water in Koh Samui. On an overnight bus traveling to yet another town, I fall asleep listening to “Iscariot.”

September 2017 – It’s here, it’s here, it’s here. Walk The Moon releases “One Foot”, the first taste of What If Nothing – and my first time hearing new Walk The Moon music as a diehard fan. I read the press release and I’m already enthralled at the concept of this album. I watch the video and decide I need to visit Joshua Tree someday. I send the video to my boss, a big Talking Heads fan; “I like Walk The Moon!”, he tells me.

 

October 2017 – I feel a ball of nerves building as I email Walk The Moon’s publicist: I’d like to write a review of What If Nothing; would it be possible to receive an advance copy? She responds promptly that she’ll send me the advance the week before the album release; I agree to publish my review the week of release.

 

November 2017 – On a Friday, I arrive in Dallas, Texas for a conference, where I meet an internet friend for lunch. When I get to my hotel room, I see an exciting email: the advance copy of What If Nothing is waiting for me in my inbox. I listen while I get ready for the night’s networking event; I tear up when I hear “Tiger Teeth.” I listen again and take notes for my review. On Saturday, I listen again in between conference events, and begin drafting my review. On Sunday, life takes me on an unexpected ride and I’m back in Deep Ellum, getting a tattoo for an album that won’t be released for six more days. On Sunday night, I cry again to “Tiger Teeth.” On Monday, I finish my review while stuck in the Minneapolis airport on my way home.

January 2018 – It’s a frigid day in New York and I’m bundled up in my winter coat as I make the short walk from Penn Station to the Hammerstein Ballroom. Once inside, I head downstairs to the bathroom, where I make friends with a few girls who are doing their face paint. I ask if they mind if I take some photos; they agree, and we exchange Instagram handles. I head up towards the photo pit where I see some friends. I knew the show would be special, and it’s just as magical as I’d hoped.

Later in January 2018 – I’m so proud of the photos from the Hammerstein Ballroom show; I debate ordering a canvas or maybe a framed print with my favorite photo of the evening. Instead, I order this custom woven blanket.

 

April 2018 – Anxiety is hitting me hard. I try and I try but I can’t keep from ruminating; I think of Nick’s passion for yoga, and wonder if it would help me. I start seeing a therapist and I begin practicing yoga at home – once or twice a week at first. I have no idea if it’s helping, but I keep doing it.

June 2018 – Walk The Moon is on tour opening for 30 Seconds To Mars. At the last minute, I buy a pair of tickets to the show at Madison Square Garden, in the nosebleeds; no one wanted to come with me. I force myself to stay off my phone, save for a quick photo and video of the band; the thought of facing the truth (and the heartbreak that’d surely instill) made me sick. I leave after their set to get dinner from a vegan restaurant I like. The next day, they’re playing at PNC Bank Arts Center in Holmdel, New Jersey. I’d bought a (more expensive) ticket for that one, just a few rows from the stage. I was spiraling, sick at the truth in front of me, and had a panic attack when I got to my seat – sobbing, crying, hyperventilating. One of the ushers brings me a water bottle and some paper towels to use as tissues. When Walk The Moon comes on, I feel like I can breathe again. I’m able to pull myself out of my head and into my body, as Nick would say.

September 2018 – My heart is broken. It had been slowly chipped at for nearly a year and finally, there it was – smashed, shattered, beaten into smithereens. I listen to What If Nothing on repeat, in hopes I can make some sense of the sadness in my heart and the unknown ahead of me. I wonder if I’ll ever get through this pain, if I’ll ever be the same.

 

Later in September 2018 – I haven’t been able to sleep in a week; every muscle in my body is tense. I make myself dinner and it’s a toss-up whether I can eat more than a bite or two. I decide that I need to make yoga more of a routine and commit to doing it a few times a week.

October 2018 – A friend is hosting a Halloween Party; I decide to dress up as “Walk The Moon”. I wore a “Walk The Moon-inspired” outfit, copied Nick’s face paint from the “Anna Sun” video, and carried around a cardboard “moon” on a dog leash. My friend pulls me aside shortly after I arrive to ask how I’m doing; I tell her the angry version of the story. The sadness lays deeper inside me. I eat pizza, cookies, chips (thank god I have an appetite, at least). My costume is a hit.

 

December 2018 – I find myself at an ecstatic dance party in Amsterdam. The whole concept of ecstatic dance seems very WTM-esque, if you will; I put on some face paint before I go. A very, very handsome man starts dancing with me; I can’t bear the thought of dancing with anyone that isn’t that one, and I leave the event in tears. I get fries on my way back to my hostel; I never cry about that one again.

 

January 2019 – I’m learning to breathe again, starting to see some light. I commit to doing yoga every day. With oddly perfect timing, Walk The Moon releases “Timebomb”: “when your heart opens, it’s like I’m ready to fall again.” I’m able to see that I’ll get there, too.

February 2019 – I drive to New Haven, Connecticut, where I meet up with an internet friend to do our face paint. We sit in a Starbucks near the venue and discuss what might be on the set list. They play “Tiger Teeth”; I cry through the whole song. My friend tells me she’s going to stay late to try and meet the members of the band, and invites me to join her. We wait outside the venue when I realize I don’t have anything for them to sign (my ticket was digital). Another fan is there with her boyfriend; he had printed out his ticket, and happily gives it to me. I ask Eli what I’d have to do to hear “Iscariot” live (he tells me: “go to a show in 2013”; I laugh and groan). We wait a long while to meet Nick; my feet are freezing in my boots. I tell Nick that I cried during “Tiger Teeth”; he puts his hand on my heart and says, “thank you for sharing that.”

 

Later in February 2019 – I’m on a roll with my writing and photography career! I take a half-day from my day job, and take the train into New York City to head to a record label office where I’ll interview two artists I’m really excited about. While waiting on the subway platform, I listen to Talking Is Hard. And I dance. I’m dancing on the subway platform again; my heart is healing.

April 2020 – Nick goes Live on Instagram and asks for requests. I comment “The Liftaway”; he plays the intro and first few lines. Okay, it’s not the full song – but it’s enough to get me excited.

 

November 2021 – Out of nowhere, my knee pain gets bad. I go to orthopedic urgent care in the suburbs, then get an MRI downtown. Heights comes out; I listen for the first time on the way to my follow-up appointment with the orthopedist. I’m scared; I don’t know if it’s worse to hear “you need surgery” or “you’re not a candidate for surgery.” This album helps me make sense of the unknown, and feel okay with it.

 

November 2022 – Walk The Moon are on tour celebrating the tenth anniversary of their self-titled album; they livestream the show in New York. I live in Philadelphia now, and I’m struggling hard with frequent migraine attacks, orthostatic intolerance, and intense fatigue; I can’t even dream of making the trip to be there in person, but I watch the livestream while eating Chinese food on my couch. I get up and dance a few times. They play “The Liftaway” (the whole song!), and I shriek in excitement.

 

Later in November 2022 – It’s Thanksgiving Day; I’m in Los Angeles for the holiday. I start my day by taking a yoga class on the beach in Santa Monica. Making small talk with the gentleman next to me, I mention Walk The Moon and Nick’s studio, Kundalini Yoga By The Sea. I tell him about how meditative a Walk The Moon show is; we talk also about EDM and how a rave can be its own form of meditation. After class, I drive in my rental car up the Pacific Coast Highway and blast “Anna Sun” – on purpose this time, and it’s just as magical.

June 2023 – I move to Los Angeles; two days after I land, I borrow my brother’s car and – again – drive up the Pacific Coast Highway blasting Walk The Moon. My dog is snug in his carrier next to me. I can’t believe how beautiful the view it is, and how close it is – because I live here now.

 

July 2023 – Walk The Moon announces their hibernation. I’m deeply sad – this band has given so much to me, and it aches to know there won’t be a tour or new record any time soon. I’m grateful, though, for all they’ve given me. I make an Instagram post; shortly after, full of words to say, I begin writing this blog post.

live: good charlotte at sherman theater- 5/16/17

in

Since I started photographing live music six years ago, I've been able to photograph so many artists I never thought I'd get to photograph, and many of my long-time favorites as well. Good Charlotte has been my favorite band since I was 11; I loved shooting them on Warped Tour last summer and was excited when I saw they'd be stopping at one of my favorite venues, the Sherman Theater in Stroudsburg, Penn. 

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