By Ian S. Port
By Tony Ware
By Emma Silvers
By Gary Moskowitz
By Alee Karim
By Ian S. Port
By Ian S. Port
By Derek Opperman
Reader, are you sitting down? Good. Now get this: You live in the hardest-rocking region in the country. That's the official verdict handed down by Scarborough Research, one of those large companies that "provides data solutions and media strategies for today's complex marketing challenges." Sweet. As explained to me by Scarborough's Allyson Mongrain, 5,275 Bay Area residents completed the firm's survey. It turns out that 19 percent of Bay Area residents have been to a rock concert in the last year -- the highest percentage in the country! What's more, according to the research, those 19 percent have some interesting habits.
For example, "Rock concert attendees lead active lives and are in high income brackets. They are more than twice as likely as all consumers to have gone snow skiing, in-line skating, or to have played tennis during the past year. They are 49 percent more likely than all consumers to have gone swimming during the past year; 63 percent more likely to have bicycled; 67 percent more likely to have gone jogging; and 85 percent more likely to have participated in adult team sports."
"Twenty-one percent of rock concert attendees have an annual household income of $100K+. They are 58 percent more likely than all adults to be in this income bracket. On average, rock concert attendees are 36 years old and they are 60 percent more likely than all adults to be single."
Aha! All you hipsters trying to come off as disaffected, low-income burnouts, with your ruddy jeans and ripped sweat shirts -- you're all a bunch of rich bastards pretending to be poor, in your mid-20s, and ... married!
"Rock concert attendees are avid consumers in top concert sponsorship categories, including automotive and beverage. This segment is 45 percent more likely than all consumers to have three or more cars in their household. They are 21 percent more likely than all consumers to have consumed bottled or canned tea during the past week."
I gotta tell ya, fellow rock concert attendee, I had a feeling that pint of PBR you were carrying around all night at the show was a not-so-clever smoke screen to hide the fact that you were pounding bottled or canned tea. Shame on you!
To put this research to the test, last Wednesday I "attended" not one but two of these "rock concerts," moving back and forth between them: one at the Make-Out Room, where local label Badman was holding a "Super Rock Show Night" featuring Minneapolis' Mark Mallman, locals the Red Thread, and Dallas' Pleasant Grove; the other at 12 Galaxies, which hosted an all-local bill of the Appreciation, Night After Night, and Von Iva. (As a side note, and with all joking aside, how cool is it that these venues sit within 200 feet of each other and consistently book good bands? I wasn't the only one two-timing both clubs that night. If S.F. does rock the hardest, it's 'cause of stuff like this.)
It's 8:30 p.m. when I sit down with Von Iva drummer Kelly Harris, just after the band has completed its sound check, to give her the third degree. After all, she's a rocker, and, like all rockers, she's no doubt attended at least as many shows as she's played. Armed with the facts, I'm confident that Harris will buckle under my line of questioning and admit to joining an in-line skating league.
So Harris, how many times have you been snow skiing in the last year?
"Ummm, zero," she replies.
Surely you've played tennis recently?
"I went in the ocean. Does that count?"
Perhaps you could estimate your annual income?
"No. I don't get paid that often. I don't have, like, a regular job."
So you make less than $100K per year?
Harris' story, while logical, strikes me as fishy. I mean, she doesn't even own up to drinking bottled or canned tea. Having answered my questions, she is, however, happy to add, "It's hard for people to understand what the real reality is for a person living in San Francisco when you've got statistics like that floating around." Hmmm. Could she be right?
Perhaps the only way I'll understand this reality is if I go to a few rock concerts myself. I start with Mark Mallman and the rock venue/dimly lit bingo hall that is the Make-Out Room. While not a San Franciscan, Mallman has his share of champions here, and they are right to sing his praises. Accompanied by nothing more than a drummer and some prerecorded sounds on a laptop, he sits center stage in front of an electric piano and bludgeons that thing as if it had just called his wife a two-bit whore. Like a one-man Darkness, he belts lines such as "Sometimes I just wanna play/ Sometimes I see dead people" into the sky-high upper registers, where they're drenched in vibrato and held for what seems like decades. One of his admirers whispers to me between tunes that Mallman once recorded a song for 24 hours. As in, it's a 24-hour-long song. Watching him onstage, this seems entirely believable.
Next it's off to 12 Galaxies to catch the Appreciation. As the bill's opener, the act is unsurprisingly green, though not without promise. The quartet's burly instrumentals jerk and rumble, bringing to mind a garage-rock jam band, a more meandering Motörhead perhaps. That the guitarist bears a slight resemblance to Slash and wears a medallion only helps up the rock quotient. Something tells me none of these dudes plays tennis, though.