aaronpinto: Fleet Foxes // Tower Theater // Upper Darby, PA // May 21, 2011 It all started the evening before. My brother, in his typical unorganized, last-minute fashion called the house minutes before my dad and I were about to leave for a “send-off” BBQ for his school’s summer Habitat for Humanity trip. He asked us if we could find him an old pair of jeans that he could get dirty on his trip. Instead of looking in the depths of the attic, we just decided it would be easier to get a pair for $5 at the thrift store. When we got to the thrift store, my dad emphasized that we couldn’t really spend much time browsing like we normally would; we had to get to the BBQ on time. I began to sift through the t-shirts, like I normally would, except more casually. In the royal blue t-shirt section of the rack, I revisited a shirt I had passed by earlier— it featured a snowflake and what I thought was some sort of Hebrew script on it. Upon re-examination, the shirt actually read “I’m Unique.” I kept browsing, but then I remembered something: I was seeing Fleet Foxes the next day. The title track of Fleet Foxes’ new album Helplessness Blues starts off with the lines, I was raised up believing I was somehow unique Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see For 95 cents, I couldn’t pass up the shirt. I figured something could be done with it at the next day’s concert. Though I was to be going with my friends, we all bought tickets separately, leaving us scattered all over the Tower Theater. My seat was located in the front row of the balcony— I figured I could drape it over the balcony itself and maybe one of the band members would see it. Worst case scenario, I’d do nothing with the shirt and I wasted a dollar. On the day of the show, I took a train to my friend Dennis’ house, outside of Philly, where we were all meeting. My duffel bag contained the standard overnight accessories as well as the shirt. With much time to kill before the concert, we sat on Dennis’ side porch and talked. Going into my bag to get some gum, I saw the snowflake shirt peeking out. I had completely forgotten to show them. I told them how I found it at the thrift store and enthusiastically put out the idea that perhaps we could do something with the shirt at the show. Nobody was excited. Dejected, I put the shirt back in the bag. Maybe it was a stupid idea, after all. Minutes before leaving for the show, I went inside Dennis’ house where my friends Phil and Cawley were sitting at the dinner table. Because Phil and Cawley generally get more excited about thrift store finds and oddities than my other friends from school, I gave the shirt one last chance. They went nuts over it. “You have to do something with that shirt,” they both sort of said in different manners. I had already lost my enthusiasm to do anything with the shirt, and even more importantly, I didn’t know what to do with the shirt. Instead of the original balcony seats, I was now to be sitting six rows from the stage with Phil, whose girlfriend couldn’t make it, leaving an extra seat. They both encouraged the throwing of the shirt on stage. I brought the shirt with me to the show, rolled up in a rubber band, which Phil explained is the best way to throw a shirt on stage. Cawley, in another car, was sending me multiple text messages with his support of the idea. As we got closer and closer, Phil became more and more excited to do something with the shirt. I was still uneasy. What if something went wrong? What if we got in trouble and had to leave? What if it didn’t make it to the stage, hitting someone in the audience? What if it was thrown too hard and broke something on stage? Phil and I took our seats. Nearby were some of our other friends— to the right of us, a few rows in front of us. We couldn’t believe how close to the stage we were. Throughout the opening band’s set, Phil kept whispering to me “You have to throw it. You have to.” I shrugged a lot and contemplated the pros and cons of it. I was scared. When the opening band finished, Cawley came over to our seats to lobby the idea of throwing it on stage. Phil supported the idea more and more each minute before Fleet Foxes came on. I finally agreed. Phil tore out a small piece of paper from the program and wrote To: Robin Love: Phil and Aaron and tucked it into the rubber band that kept the shirt bundled up. The question now was, how are we gonna do this? I could definitely reach the stage from here. Maybe I’ll do it before the encore. Do it after the show. But then we won’t get to see them receive the shirt. Maybe I can run up in the beginning of the show and just toss it on stage. But there’s a security guard right there… and so on. We ultimately decided on this plan: the second the house lights went down and Fleet Foxes began to walk up on stage, Phil and I would rush to the front row; I would toss the shirt on stage and Phil would pretend like he was looking for his front row seats to distract the security guard. In theory, we would get back to our seats with no problems, and the shirt would be right there in front of singer Robin Pecknold. Also, we would look very smooth and calm throughout the process. The next day, when asked how we looked doing it, my friend Aaron said “You two looked like little girls. Giggling fools.” Chris Sweeney said he was never more scared in his life than when we went for it. Aaron’s description wasn’t far off— I know I was scared to death. But the adrenaline rush was priceless. We were giggling up a storm when we returned to our seats. I kept hitting Phil just out of pure “I can’t believe we did it” excitement. The show began with their new album instrumental, “The Cascades.” With some light now on the stage, Phil and I could see the t-shirt, right in front of the new member, laid back multi-instrumentalist Morgan Henderson’s microphone. There was no way they’d ever see it, we thought. But we gave them some time, nonetheless. Meanwhile, the show was amazing, albeit hard to enjoy because of the looming shirt on stage. Air-tight harmonies, masterful playing, and a killer set list all made for one of the most beautiful concert experiences. Four or five songs in, Phil whispered to me, “Should I yell something about the shirt?” Before I could even agree, Phil’s piercing yell cut through the rowdy in-between-songs audience. “OPEN THE SHIRT!” he yelled. Now let’s take a step back. We threw a shirt on stage, but it’s not recognizable as a shirt because of it’s rolled up nature, nor does anyone in the band know that there is anything on stage. Tuning his guitar, Robin Pecknold shook his head, “I’m not gonna open my shirt, man.” Then someone yelled out “YEAH, TAKE IT ALL OFF!!!!!” to which the crowd laughed and cheered. Phil and I, both laughing hysterically, realized how “OPEN THE SHIRT!” could be interpreted differently than we desired. Now it was really stressful. The shirt was still on stage, untouched and unnoticed since it landed, and our first attempt to get it noticed failed miserably. We continued to enjoy the show, but had the shirt on our minds. “I gotta try again,” Phil whispered to me. I told him we needed something better to yell this time. And it couldn’t involve the word “shirt” or else Robin Pecknold would think it was another request to strip. “Yell, ‘THERE’S A GIFT FOR YOU ON STAGE!’” And that’s exactly what Phil yelled, minutes later. There was about 3 full seconds of nonreaction from the band. I thought that was it, we were done. No way were we gonna try a third time. But then Robin Pecknold spoke up: “A gift, huh?” The rest of the band began to peruse the stage for some mysterious “gift” but didn’t see anything. “STAGE RIGHT!” yelled Phil. Morgan Henderson, stage right, immediately saw it, noticed the “To: Robin” and walked it over to him. Meanwhile, Phil and I were freaking out— I was giggling and beating him up, heart racing. Someone in the band said that it looked like a big wad. Robin Pecknold said “Do you want me to open this now? or… after the show? How did you envision this.” I yelled “OPEN IT NOW!” And Robin began unraveling the rubber band. “BE CAREFUL, ROBIN!” someone in the crowd yelled. Robin looked moderately annoyed while opening the shirt, as if to say, “We could be playing music now.” Once it was unraveled, he said “Oh, it’s a shirt.” But then, he flipped it around, examined it for a hot second, and then a grin appeared on his face. “Aww… that’s cute,” and he displayed it to the crowd whose laughter turned to cheers. “Thanks, you guys,” said Robin, and a split second after: “I was following the, I was following the…” And as “White Winter Hymnal” began, Phil and I let out a deep breath. ——————————————————————- Much to our excitement, the story was immortalized on film.And also a blogger referenced it in a review of the show.

aaronpinto:

Fleet Foxes // Tower Theater // Upper Darby, PA // May 21, 2011

It all started the evening before.

My brother, in his typical unorganized, last-minute fashion called the house minutes before my dad and I were about to leave for a “send-off” BBQ for his school’s summer Habitat for Humanity trip. He asked us if we could find him an old pair of jeans that he could get dirty on his trip. Instead of looking in the depths of the attic, we just decided it would be easier to get a pair for $5 at the thrift store.

When we got to the thrift store, my dad emphasized that we couldn’t really spend much time browsing like we normally would; we had to get to the BBQ on time.

I began to sift through the t-shirts, like I normally would, except more casually. In the royal blue t-shirt section of the rack, I revisited a shirt I had passed by earlier— it featured a snowflake and what I thought was some sort of Hebrew script on it. Upon re-examination, the shirt actually read “I’m Unique.” I kept browsing, but then I remembered something: I was seeing Fleet Foxes the next day.

The title track of Fleet Foxes’ new album Helplessness Blues starts off with the lines,

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see

For 95 cents, I couldn’t pass up the shirt. I figured something could be done with it at the next day’s concert. Though I was to be going with my friends, we all bought tickets separately, leaving us scattered all over the Tower Theater. My seat was located in the front row of the balcony— I figured I could drape it over the balcony itself and maybe one of the band members would see it. Worst case scenario, I’d do nothing with the shirt and I wasted a dollar.

On the day of the show, I took a train to my friend Dennis’ house, outside of Philly, where we were all meeting. My duffel bag contained the standard overnight accessories as well as the shirt.

With much time to kill before the concert, we sat on Dennis’ side porch and talked. Going into my bag to get some gum, I saw the snowflake shirt peeking out. I had completely forgotten to show them.

I told them how I found it at the thrift store and enthusiastically put out the idea that perhaps we could do something with the shirt at the show.

Nobody was excited.

Dejected, I put the shirt back in the bag. Maybe it was a stupid idea, after all.

Minutes before leaving for the show, I went inside Dennis’ house where my friends Phil and Cawley were sitting at the dinner table. Because Phil and Cawley generally get more excited about thrift store finds and oddities than my other friends from school, I gave the shirt one last chance. They went nuts over it.

“You have to do something with that shirt,” they both sort of said in different manners. I had already lost my enthusiasm to do anything with the shirt, and even more importantly, I didn’t know what to do with the shirt. Instead of the original balcony seats, I was now to be sitting six rows from the stage with Phil, whose girlfriend couldn’t make it, leaving an extra seat. They both encouraged the throwing of the shirt on stage.

I brought the shirt with me to the show, rolled up in a rubber band, which Phil explained is the best way to throw a shirt on stage. Cawley, in another car, was sending me multiple text messages with his support of the idea. As we got closer and closer, Phil became more and more excited to do something with the shirt. I was still uneasy. What if something went wrong? What if we got in trouble and had to leave? What if it didn’t make it to the stage, hitting someone in the audience? What if it was thrown too hard and broke something on stage?

Phil and I took our seats. Nearby were some of our other friends— to the right of us, a few rows in front of us. We couldn’t believe how close to the stage we were. Throughout the opening band’s set, Phil kept whispering to me “You have to throw it. You have to.” I shrugged a lot and contemplated the pros and cons of it. I was scared.

When the opening band finished, Cawley came over to our seats to lobby the idea of throwing it on stage. Phil supported the idea more and more each minute before Fleet Foxes came on. I finally agreed. Phil tore out a small piece of paper from the program and wrote To: Robin Love: Phil and Aaron and tucked it into the rubber band that kept the shirt bundled up. The question now was, how are we gonna do this? I could definitely reach the stage from here. Maybe I’ll do it before the encore. Do it after the show. But then we won’t get to see them receive the shirt. Maybe I can run up in the beginning of the show and just toss it on stage. But there’s a security guard right there… and so on. We ultimately decided on this plan: the second the house lights went down and Fleet Foxes began to walk up on stage, Phil and I would rush to the front row; I would toss the shirt on stage and Phil would pretend like he was looking for his front row seats to distract the security guard. In theory, we would get back to our seats with no problems, and the shirt would be right there in front of singer Robin Pecknold. Also, we would look very smooth and calm throughout the process.

The next day, when asked how we looked doing it, my friend Aaron said “You two looked like little girls. Giggling fools.” Chris Sweeney said he was never more scared in his life than when we went for it.

Aaron’s description wasn’t far off— I know I was scared to death. But the adrenaline rush was priceless. We were giggling up a storm when we returned to our seats. I kept hitting Phil just out of pure “I can’t believe we did it” excitement.

The show began with their new album instrumental, “The Cascades.” With some light now on the stage, Phil and I could see the t-shirt, right in front of the new member, laid back multi-instrumentalist Morgan Henderson’s microphone. There was no way they’d ever see it, we thought. But we gave them some time, nonetheless.

Meanwhile, the show was amazing, albeit hard to enjoy because of the looming shirt on stage. Air-tight harmonies, masterful playing, and a killer set list all made for one of the most beautiful concert experiences.

Four or five songs in, Phil whispered to me, “Should I yell something about the shirt?” Before I could even agree, Phil’s piercing yell cut through the rowdy in-between-songs audience.

“OPEN THE SHIRT!” he yelled. Now let’s take a step back. We threw a shirt on stage, but it’s not recognizable as a shirt because of it’s rolled up nature, nor does anyone in the band know that there is anything on stage. Tuning his guitar, Robin Pecknold shook his head, “I’m not gonna open my shirt, man.” Then someone yelled out “YEAH, TAKE IT ALL OFF!!!!!” to which the crowd laughed and cheered. Phil and I, both laughing hysterically, realized how “OPEN THE SHIRT!” could be interpreted differently than we desired.

Now it was really stressful. The shirt was still on stage, untouched and unnoticed since it landed, and our first attempt to get it noticed failed miserably.

We continued to enjoy the show, but had the shirt on our minds. “I gotta try again,” Phil whispered to me. I told him we needed something better to yell this time. And it couldn’t involve the word “shirt” or else Robin Pecknold would think it was another request to strip. “Yell, ‘THERE’S A GIFT FOR YOU ON STAGE!’”

And that’s exactly what Phil yelled, minutes later. There was about 3 full seconds of nonreaction from the band. I thought that was it, we were done. No way were we gonna try a third time. But then Robin Pecknold spoke up: “A gift, huh?” The rest of the band began to peruse the stage for some mysterious “gift” but didn’t see anything. “STAGE RIGHT!” yelled Phil. Morgan Henderson, stage right, immediately saw it, noticed the “To: Robin” and walked it over to him. Meanwhile, Phil and I were freaking out— I was giggling and beating him up, heart racing. Someone in the band said that it looked like a big wad. Robin Pecknold said “Do you want me to open this now? or… after the show? How did you envision this.” I yelled “OPEN IT NOW!” And Robin began unraveling the rubber band. “BE CAREFUL, ROBIN!” someone in the crowd yelled.

Robin looked moderately annoyed while opening the shirt, as if to say, “We could be playing music now.” Once it was unraveled, he said “Oh, it’s a shirt.” But then, he flipped it around, examined it for a hot second, and then a grin appeared on his face. “Aww… that’s cute,” and he displayed it to the crowd whose laughter turned to cheers.

“Thanks, you guys,” said Robin, and a split second after: “I was following the, I was following the…” And as “White Winter Hymnal” began, Phil and I let out a deep breath.

——————————————————————-

Much to our excitement, the story was immortalized on film.
And also a blogger referenced it in a review of the show.

(via littlerunawaybunny)

Tags: concerts robin fan stories THIS IS AWESOME