Ted Leo and The Pharmacists Concert, 10/07/2010, Vino's Brewpub, Little Rock, AR

On Thursday 10/07/2010 I went to a Ted Leo & The Pharmacists show at Vino's Brewpub in downtown Little Rock, and it was one of the best nights of my life. I knew it would be excellent going in. I've seen Ted/Rx 6 or 7 times before and every time it is, without fail, one of the best performances of anything ever (including Les Miserables on Broadway). What I didn't know was just how amazing it would be.

Before the show started I saw Ted sitting by the merch table and after texting some friends for courage, I went over and introduced myself. I was super awkward and inarticulate. Ted has been one of my heroes since I was 16 and I had more than a little alcohol in me. I knew what I wanted to say but, like being in High School and talking to that girl you've always liked, it just wasn't coming out right. Not that it mattered. I had heard that Ted was the nicest guy in the world, and it is totally true. I told him that his music had gotten me through some really hard times. He responded, completely sincerely, "Me too, man."

The opening bands, and there were 3, were decent. To be honest I didn't even look at the list, so I'm not sure who I saw. Except for Kevin Seconds, who played directly before Ted/Rx. He was a solo acoustic act that had some really moving stuff. I actually can't remember much because by that time I had been sipping alcohol at a pretty furious rate. I know that I liked him enough to buy two of his albums. This paragraph officially constitutes the worst/shallowest concert review ever.

In addition to those two CDs and a Ted/Rx shirt I also bought two pieces of art- a robot and a dinosaur- from a girl working the merch table. Basically I was her target demographic: people who love robots and dinosaurs (the two great tastes that taste great together). I'm a sucker for merch.

Funnily enough, I remember every detail of the Ted/Rx set. He mostly performed material off of The Brutalist Bricks and some from Living and Living. He has an amazing way of cranking up the energy and tempo on his songs, which are already very upbeat, and owning the stage. After each song he ends with a very honest and understated "Thanks" before launching into the next song and completely killing it. Like everything Ted does, it is raw and sincere and completely blows me away.

Being at the live performance is what I imagine being on methamphetamines feels like. I was singing at the top of my lungs, dancing as hard as I could and jumping as high as my legs would allow. I stepped on a lot of toes that night. By the end of the night my mouth literally hurt from smiling so hard. Looking back, people probably thought I was on some sort of drug cocktail. I thought the night couldn't get any better. I was wrong.

Right before the last song, Ted said "I've been getting some pretty aggressive emails. I'm supposed to give a shout out to Chris Wieman." I screamed as loud as I could "THAT'S ME" and threw my hands in the air. Then he said something else awesome(I can't remember what, I was too excited) and launched into "Gimme The Wire." That moment could legitimately be the peak of my life and that would in no way be disappointing. I think one day I'll probably get married or have kids or whatever; but... I got a shout-out from Ted Leo. Only thing that could top that is going on tour with him and having him be godfather to those kids I may one day have.

Turns out my best friend Anne had contacted him in the weeks leading up to the show and asked him to give me that shout-out. And he emailed her back and said he would. Because he is classy as fuck, and she is awesome as hell. You better believe she got a drunk thank-you phone call at 1:00 in the morning, 2:00 her time.

My one regret from the night had been that I had utterly failed in my attempt to tell Ted all that his music means to me. I also wanted to thank him for creating such a bright oasis in the middle of my somewhat drab existence in Little Rock. So I wrote him an email where I tried to summarize all of that. Here is that letter:

Dear Ted Leo,

I'm the guy who was at your show in Little Rock that introduced himself awkwardly by the merch table and was dancing and singing like crazy during your show (and stepping on lots of peoples feet). I wanted to say thank you for giving me a shout out at the end of your show. It really meant a lot to me. I'm incredibly happy that my best friend Anne contacted you about it and that you were super nice, and willing to do it.

I moved to Little Rock two months ago from Connecticut where I was near my family and within a days driving distance of almost all my friends. I don't know anyone here and I'm the youngest person in my office by at least ten years. It's been a very lonely two months filled with solo movie marathons. When I found out you were coming to town, I had something to look forward to and be excited about. Your show exceeded my highest expectations and I left saying the same thing I say every time I leave one of your shows (I think 7 or 8 now), "That was probably the best live show I've ever seen."

I guess the reason I really wanted to write you is to tell you how much your music means to me, which I awkwardly tried to do in person on Thursday. Hearts of Oak came out when I was just discovering music beyond what I sang in choir or heard on the radio. It was like nothing I'd ever heard before. The first time I listened to "Where Have All The Rude Boys Gone?" it was like I was seeing color for the first time. Listening to your music made me want to dance, and run down the street, and ask out that girl I'd always had a crush on and change the world and drive too fast and to believe in something! I don't want to say your music made me the person I am, because that is ridiculous- I had amazing flawed parents and friends and culture and whatever else that makes a person a person. Your music heavily informed who I am, though. Listening to your records, which seemed so honest and refreshing and devoid of cynicism, I realized that it was fucking cool to be a completely genuine person and believe in things and want the world to be a better place. And that might sound trite or obvious, but at 16 I was surrounded by so much cynicism, and so much of the world seemed fucked up(I was just starting to become politically aware), and friends were slipping into forced faux-hipster apathy, judging people based on what they were wearing rather than who they were. You helped me realize that it was important to be the person I wanted to be, and believe in the things I believed in with as much sincerity as I could because that is what is important in life. When you sang "And if you're not content to just believe, and if you don't consent to just let it be..." I really took it to heart. I'm working for a credit card company now, but I'm realizing that there's not enough, if any, meaning in my work. I've been very politically active since deciding to major in Political Science as an undergrad. My plan is to go to grad school for public policy and to put myself in a position to work towards a more equitable society(probably through tax policy). I want to do something that will improve people's lives, that I can believe in and be proud of.

Your music has been with me through the good times and the bad. I mentioned that your music has gotten me through some very hard times. I spent the better part of the last two years doing my best to get over a smashed-up, torn to pieces, broken heart. We had dated for three and a half years and ended with little warning and almost no reason. In fairly short order she was engaged to someone else. But even when I was at my lowest lows and things really seemed dark, when I played Little Dawn and you started singing "It's alright" I knew that things would get better and this wasn't the end of the world. And they have and it wasn't. When I listened to Rappaport's Testament and Old Souls Know I knew that there were things worth fighting for and that there was integrity in fighting for them. I could play your albums and know that there were good things in the world that couldn't be ruined by ex-girlfriends or crooked politicians or whatever else. It's been the soundtrack to my best of times and my inspiration at my worst.

I guess what I was trying to say awkwardly by the merch table is, thank you for all of this. It's impossible to quantify how much your music has afffected me, and difficult to add all the weeks worth of hours I've spent listening to it. While many of the bands I discovered at the same time as you have slowly slipped out of rotation, you and the Pharmacists have a permanent place at the top of my playlist/mixtape/recommendation list. I can't wait to see you in concert the next time you come through whatever town I'm in.

Sincerely,

Chris Wieman

PS. Love your Tweets!

I haven't heard back from him, and it's possible I never will, but that's not really important. Having that concert and having the opportunity to write the letter meant a lot. I fucking love Ted Leo/Rx.