What, TTA doesn't stand for Teenies Travel Around?

The first thing people—Hanson fans or not—say to me about attending the Philly show is "was it worth it?" And it's a logical question, really.

We drove almost a thousand miles in two days, surviving New York City traffic and car troubles that inspired a mechanic on the Jersey Turnpike to say "you might make it where you're going. If you pump the brakes." We spent hundreds of dollars on tickets, hotel rooms, gas and memorabilia; we traversed several areas that must be leading the running for the title "Scariest Ghetto in the Northeast." We moved yet another step further along the one-way path to permanent hearing damage. We saw girls with signs reading "M2M sucks" and women in homemade Hanson shirts, crafted with glitter paint on color copies of 1997 posters, bearing the words "Zak rules" proudly sprawled across their chests in sloppy script.

So was it worth it? No. Completely not at all.

To express the magnitude of the wonder that was the September 16^th show at the Tower Theater, you'd have to take "worth it" and multiply it by itself several thousand times. It was spectacular. It was amazing. It was leaps and bounds more enjoyable than the Albertane tour (although perhaps the comparison is a bit to apples/oranges for comfort); it was maybe the best show I've ever seen. When the two hour-plus set ended I hesitantly shuffled out of the classically ornate building unsure if I wanted to cry, laugh, or maybe just get "I love Hanson" tattooed on my forehead.

I will admit that, although it wasn't really reflected in my review of the two concerts, Groton and Providence spawned doubts in me about the future of Hanson. The "bounce with me, baby" mini-sets of these early summer radio shows were spearheaded by an almost frantically peppy Taylor and highlighted by Isaac awkwardly wandering around with his guitar, hopping on things in what seemed a little bit of a mockery. Ike gave an almost apologetic vibe, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking on stage. "I'm sorry I'm not Jonny Lang. I'm sorry I'm not a guitar prodigy respected in every circle of the music world. I'm sorry I'm not a 40-year-old man. And I'm sorry that because of these things that I can't control, I have to try and be flashy. So bear with me."

As a general rule, the bands that Hanson like do not bounce. They do not lead audience-aerobics, and they do not find themselves drowned out by screams. None of these things could ever be related to shows by Blues Traveler, Jonny Lang, Phish, or even Sheryl Crow. That stuff is the territory of barely-able boybands, half-naked Lolitas, and groups that have a shelf life a few weeks shorter than your average carton of whole milk. We, to some extent, know what Hanson like.

After the radio station shows I had began to wonder if Hanson were growing—due to force, desperation, or even a simple inability to carry on the good fight—into something Hanson wouldn't like.

The Tower show proved all of my fears and suspicions to be unfounded, and displayed the ever-increasing abilities of a completely "on" Hanson. Not that their "off" nights are anything to sneeze at, but the stuff that Philly was made of, strong showmanship and musicianship all at once, was the stuff that made LA Times reporters admit they "loved, loved" seeing Hanson live. It was the stuff that is earning begrudged respect and changing the tides of "Hanson are over" in the media to "Hanson are underappreciated, and if they hold onto what they've got their time will come again."

My only sorrow about the night was that I didn't take notes. There were so many tiny things that I was continuously reminding myself: "I've got to remember this" that it was just stupid. I wished I could have been writing while Hanson were playing. Why? I don't know. I think maybe because each little detail of the practice-smoothed show seemed worth remembering, too precious too loose to time. Maybe because Scott Hogan played the theme song to the '80s cartoon show Inspector Gadget during his introduction, and maybe because it cracked Taylor up. Maybe because judging from the red plastic cup I saw him drinking from, our boy Tay learned his lesson about mixing beef soup and water containers. Maybe because Ike wore a thin black bracelet that became visible as he rolled up his long sleeves, and because he played solo after solo with unbelievable confidence. Maybe because when he was alone out front singing "I Want You to Want Me" Zac kept his drumming-headset-mic on and had no idea what to do with his hands, so he wandered around stage, clapping to the Taylor-driven beat and grabbing the outstretched hands of fans with a mixture of disbelief and self-assured pride.

The most outstanding moments of the show were the ones that had the element of surprise on their side. Songs that we had hoped to hear but not expected (Save Me, Lucy, Crosstown Traffic, I Want You to Want Me, You Can't Always Get What You Want, Smile, and Piece of My Heart), tiny moments of interaction that might not have been seen in a larger venue (Taylor shaking Zac's hand at the end of I Want You to Want Me; Isaac, like the amazing dad he'll someday be, mouthing empathetically "get down right now" to a bunch of girls who had made their way onto a narrow platform at the very edge of the stage in hopes of getting a handshake; Mr. Hanson and Ash in the soundbooth, bopping heads and smiling proudly as their young charges flourished at center stage).

As for the recent fan bashing in the media that has alleged that Hanson fans are all shrilly-shrieking twelve-year old girls, well, bah to them. It's true that, as we've always known, the majority of Hanson fans are girls who are on the young side. But as time goes on, they're growing up right before the eyes of the world, just like Hanson have. There were plenty of frenzied tears and screams, but there was also a lot of dancing and gleeful singing along, so much so that during several songs it was hard to hear Hanson's voices running through the lyrics over those of the audience.  And by no means was the audience entirely in the "What's Happening to My Body Book for Girls" age range: one of the most memorable people I saw was a little boy, probably five or six, with his dad who literally spent the entire show singing giddily along and drumming with amazing proficiency with these two glowsticks. Zachary Hanson is officially someone's hero :)

While waiting outside the unbelievably slummy venue Saturday night, I slipped. I took a look around me and groaned at the cowboy hats and the Hanson T-shirts and the slightly desperate eyes of most of the assembled concertgoers. I was thinking that we were a pretty motley bunch, but as soon as the show began I regretted it. Nearly everyone behaved, everyone was ecstatic, and everyone was bonded together by a common love: Hanson. As ridiculous as it sounds to say, it was a cool thing to look out at the audience and realize that we share a common vocabulary of bulletproof marshmallows, "actually we broke it twice," Albertane and Hanson.net.

Not that the night didn't see more than its fair share of uncalled for behavior. Only one girl actually made it on stage for any length of time, appearing as if by magic in an old school Hanson t-shirt at stage right and walking to Taylor while he sat at the keyboards in preparation for an acoustic song. Even she was comparably sane, however, shaking his hand and saying something with a nervous smile, not jumping or grabbing or harassing in any real bodily way. Taylor just smiled back at her, shaking his head with bemused concern and clearly telling her "I'm really sorry, but you've got to get back down" as if it was a bad thing, an inhospitable thing, not to accommodate the fans on stage. It was Romeo, the Hanson crewmember with the really long, curly hair from the Albertane tour, who finally ended up escorting the girl off the stage. The venue's security didn't do a thing.

Later, more girls appeared to have limelight crashing on their minds also, surging forward onto the afore-mentioned narrow ledge at the end of the stage, grabbing for first Zac and then Isaac. The initial grab at Zac seemed the closest to being actually dangerous—it looked like the rabid fan had enough of a grip to do some serious damage with fingernails—but instead of dealing with the girls he just migrated very rapidly to center stage and proceeded to stay there for the rest of the song.

One thing that the press doesn't ever notice is the way in which Hanson fans are treated. It's a crude profiling that security uses, I suppose, and I shouldn't be complaining, but the double standards were crazy. Girls who looked young were stopped and thoroughly searched at the door. The people I attended with, all obviously college-aged or older (cough) sailed past the inspection points, bags secreting hidden cameras completely unsearched. Speaking of cameras, the camera policy at Tower was an odd one: you're not allowed to have one, and they're not required to tell you this.

I personally got caught with my hand in the cookie jar—the sight of Taylor Hanson in a sweat-darkened gray wife beater was just too much for me to take, so I stepped a bit into the aisle and started to snap a picture. All of a sudden Godzilla, taking the form of a short older woman with some sort of power complex, came charging from nowhere to demand my film. Being the rather high-strung, non-technologically able person that I am, I stood there fumbling with my mother's obscenely expensive camera trying to get the film out. Butchzilla proceeded to grab my camera, pull open the back, and not be able to get the film out, either. Instead of just shrugging it off, knowing she'd ruined my film already, the lady got a good grip on the film itself and pulled each and every frame out of the canister, spending at least two minutes trashing around with it in order to make an example of me. I hesitate to think how far she was willing to carry this power trip, but before she gave up and just returned the camera and destroyed film she asked how much the camera had cost, as if she was intended to take it for good. When I said "$300" and got that special, college graduate "I can pay for a lawyer and you'll be talking to one if you even think about taking my camera" gleam in my eye, she moved on.

Now I'm a grown up, and am well aware that life will go on. The girl across the aisle from me can't say the same, though. A few minutes after our run in, the fourteen- or fifteen-year-old was nabbed by same guard. The girl was visibly shaken and crying as the security guard grabbed her camera, and yet the lady didn't even bother to ask the girl to take her film out—instead she just took it herself, grabbed one end and pulled it all out of the canister, her eyes never leaving the girl's during the entire, ego building experience. The guard was waiting for an excuse to boot someone from the theater, and the girl was more than happy to give her one: she chucked her film canister at the woman and stomped her feet, ala Angelica from Rugrats. She was dragged from the theater by three guards, sobbing, leaving her friend doing the same alone in her seat.

I would definitely not want to leave this review of an incredible experience in such a lowpoint. All in all, a good, clean fun time was had by all, and the music, what we really went there for, was extravagantly wonderful. I by no means remember the set list or how every song sounded, but some highlights:

Lucy: I had no idea that what on MON was a little, lightly sorrowful song could grow into a deeply mournful masterpiece. Performed during the acoustic set, all three brothers harmonized, making it more of a slow Hanson song and less of a Zac song.

This Time Around: Each and every person in the audience completely flipped out. A fandom under fire, TTA has come to represent the new-age Hanson to many people, and this it showed through its warm welcome. This was one of the songs that was actually hard to hear clearly because the entire venue was singing so loud.

I Want You to Want Me: If my Hanson concert-going for this tour was over today, it would end with me a happy woman. This was the song I had been sacrificing chickens in hopes of hearing, and when Zac came to the front of the stage, I jumped up and down like the teenie I am and screamed so loud I'm still in pain. Zac was meant to sing this song, and his freedom from the drum platform was a welcome change, even if he was uncertain.

Love Song: For some reason, the live version of this song was insane. I like how it sounds on the album, but watching Isaac in his own little world, singing along with an improbable amount of passion, and getting to see Taylor produce the tinkling piano parts (yeah, I'm all about technical terminology, aren't I?) changed the way I hear the song. As in the Filmore video, Zac moved to his large drumset midway through this song, but something was wrong. His foot pedal didn't seem to be working, and he was laughing away as he tried to fix it, finally accepting a replacement from one of the stage crew. Zac's good humor lasted throughout the entire show. :)

Thinking of You: Speaking of amazing Zac moments, whenever a particularly amazing drum part was called for he would stand up, banging away and waving his head around. This song was the first time he did it, and while I think his hair was up, it eventually came down and showered an ever-moving golden halo around him as he head-banged. Yeah baby!

Save Me: My heart didn't beat for the first 4 seconds of this song. When Taylor burst out of nowhere with "Looooooovvvviiiinnnnngggggg," I thought I might die. Live all three brothers are involved in the song, whereas on TTA it's mostly Taylor and his golden instrument that get play. Perfect, wondrous, glorious.

So. To return to the words that opened this little ramble, was it worth it? Nope.   Will Boston and Montreal, my other two Hanson shows this tour, be worth it? I sure as heck hope not!

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