Metro Station were hardly this chill at their Gothic Theatre show on Sunday. Photo from .
Sexual innuendos tend to go right over my head. The first time I realized that Trace Cyrus and Mason Musso were singing about dirty sex, strippers and possible drug use on self-titled debut, I blushed a little. Do 17-year-olds named Kelsey really do lines while Trace begs, “I’m coming down, bring me up, take it off, letap just touch”? Maybe they do. I don’t know. Itap been a long time since I was 17.
The stage was littered with plastic women in compromising positions, their nipples covered in hasty black tape x’s for the Metro Station show Sunday night, and all I was thinking was, “Children should not be seeing such things!” (Insert motherly gasp here.) But thatap because I’m the oldest, most prude MS fan on the planet.
Opening with “Disco,” Metro Station’s presence immediately felt a little try-hard, exaggerated bounds and trick jumps from Cyrus taking up much of the stage’s limited space. Cyrus was the main attraction, his stick straight hair flying like sexy spaghetti, each spasm popping a conniving smile out from under his mop, instantly inciting screams of joy from the audience.
During “Now That We’re Done,” the six-foot-plus Cyrus looked super human as he stood on a monitor, his long, lanky arm easily reaching a fan in the balcony. He teetered back to the floor for “17 Forever,” working the tender audience up with his smug winks and aimless kisses blown into the air.
The fantasy getaway song “California” and teenage swooning of “Kelsey” were total hits as Cyrus and Musso continued with their on-stage flirt-off, Musso pulling his wavy hair back to reveal his childish and chubby cheeks. Their short, eight-song set came to an end with “I Wish We Were Older,” before a quick encore revealed Cyrus now shirtless, showing off his “Songs of Victory” chest piece.
The crowd was chanting “Shake It,” so Metro Station obeyed, playing the full-force hit. They officially ended with “Control,” and as the crowd let out onto Broadway, openers were standing outside on a signpost of the old Chinese take-out joint next door with a megaphone asking everyone to stick around for an acoustic set. I opted out of such a special event, walking to my car instead.
As I drove away from the show at a premature 10 p.m., I found Metro Station on my iPod and attempted to revive my first magical feelings for the Cali pop kids. Sadly, seeing Metro Station live was sort of like meeting your Internet boyfriend in person for the first time: awkward, sort of boring, maybe little icky and not at all what you expected. I guess itap all about the angle of a MySpace picture, right?
is a Denver writer and regular Reverb contributor. Check out her and .
