Llama's pilgrimage to Hanson fan Mecca

Getting to Tulsa from Northern Vermont is no easy task. In fact, I didn't even consider going to the Albertane Tour's Second Coming to Hanson's hometown until the Saturday before the September 24th show. Llama, gripped by the ferocious adrenaline of too much caffeine and far, far too many viewings of Tulsa, Tokyo, and the Middle of Nowhere, suddenly remembered that in order to go to London she had needed to buy a handy little International Student ID card… one that guaranteed inexpensive flights anywhere in the country. Never before have I been so grateful that I hadn't given in to the urges to tear to shreds the horribly unattractive picture of me stuck, huge and distorted, across the front of the ID. The concert tickets, thanks to my awesome online buddy Jess, were not a problem to get, and so with barely three days to convince my parents, teachers, and friends not to commit me I prepared to travel a little over 1,000 miles to spend 4 days hanging out in Tulsa with Jess and to see my third Hanson concert of the year.

I won't bore you with the details of my plane ride to Tulsa, even though I'm sure you'd all be fascinated to hear about the Christian Scientist who tried every imaginable ploy to convert me right there, hurtling through the heavens 20,000 feet above the ground. Just let it suffice to say that a little quote from Labyrinth, "I have moved Heaven and Earth for you" has never been more appropriate than at this moment, because this is basically what I had to do to go on my mini-vacation to Oklahoma. Despite the hardships, I was still unable to wipe the intensely goofy "Hanson fan on her way to Tulsa" grin off my face at any point during my seven hour journey across country to the promised land.

The first tip off that I had entered Hanson's own version of Camelot came to me in a vision… one broadcast on the five o'clock news of a local Tulsa TV station. "Well here are some girls with an odd story," introduced a reporter, framed by the gigantic upended peanut butter cup that is the Mabee (pronounced Maybe… isn't that just too easy?!?) center. The teenies, whom he had routed from the amassed spectators waiting breathlessly for admittance to the arena, began to tell how they had met at a Hanson concert earlier in the summer and become friends. "Ha," disdainfully chortled my hostess and I. We, after all, have pretty much every weird Hanson story topped. Jess, a fairly recent transplant to Tulsa, and I have been talking online ever since I became a groupie of her story last fall, long before I even dreamed of posting my own. We had never even met when I embarked upon my pilgrimage to Tulsa, but Hanson and fanfiction had brought us together!

Well, I have to say that the concert was decidedly not fanfic worthy. I hate to disappoint you all, but no, Taylor did not tumble into my lap during the performance. And no, there was no dedicating I Will Come To You to anyone, but as they say on Yahoo unfurled… dare to dream, baby! We were lucky enough to end up in the 10th row, which in a way is the perfect position. From that distance one is able to thoroughly rock out without having to worry about being spotted by a band member while messing up lyrics to the songs on which they labored for huge chunks of their lives. It is not, however, close enough to really appreciate the wonder that is Hanson in performance.. aka.. you can't get squirted from there. In a perhaps uninteresting footnote: does the usage of things like silly string and supersoakers make any one else wonder what Freudian psychologists would have to say about Hanson? Little boys, projectiles, and teenies oh my!

I'll spare you all another set list and simply say that Hanson has improved amazingly since the early days of the tour. In Montreal they had seemed almost tentative on stage, not really sure of what they should be doing. While the show itself has remained the same, the later days of the Albertane tour have seen the gusto with which they perform climb several notches on the energy-o-meter. Taylor had authority in his stride as he took over the drumsticks; Ike slid fluidly across the stage in an early guitar-god move; Zac interacted freely and playfully with the audience.

One of the things that I've come to believe to be a hallmark of a truly great band, crowd interaction, (which has always been, as I'm sure many people would argue, Taylor's greatest strength) has apparently become a new focal point for the band. Way back in the beginning of the summer the brothers Hanson had put forth stage personas that were somehow reminiscent of a deer in headlights, but last Thursday there was no such hesitance. This newfound confidence was easy to see in a thousand little ways. Zac spend a good portion of the show making faces at girls in the audience as he watched their odd behavior, and when he went to hand out his discarded drumsticks towards the end of the show it was no longer a little boy walking to the front of the stage and blindly giving them out. In Tulsa Zac planned, he plotted, he teased, all to the evident rapture of the front row set. The Hanson brothers have become a smoothly running machine during their months on tour, and at Tulsa even the cheese had become orchestrated. "We couldn't be have sold a single album without you…" one of the cherubic trio began; "and we couldn't live a minute without you," finished the set in unison. Isaac most especially has tapped previously unknown wells of bravado, as was made obvious by a Thumper-like (Thumper: n. another name for Taylor Hanson, given by a fellow fanfic author to express the particular glee with which Taylor moves that crazy right leg during a performance) sweeping gesture at the crowd during More Than Anything. Judging from the giddy silence that proceeded to positively ooze from the audience this addition was much appreciated. Before the show I had been sure that the euphoric "MTA effect" would have been dulled by time and familiarity, but when Ike took to the stage himself I immediately turned into a quivering ten-year-old. All musicians perform songs on stage, but watching Isaac Hanson, equal parts awkward adolescent and professional musician, there is no hiding from his emotion. They're not just words to him, I always feel, but are more of an incantation, or a spell.

The only alteration to the set list, which most of the people reading this probably have memorized after reading months of reviews, was an oddly appropriate Eric Clapton wonder known as "Tulsa Time." Magic Carpet Ride -- a song that has been played at recent Hanson shows, but not at the early New England ones -- was rendered with expertise, and while I can't speak for the rest of the audience I was personally fighting off waves of Dazed and Confused nostalgia as they ran through the ditty, whose sex and drug related themes the boys have apparently decided to ignore.

The crowd was, logically enough, the most excited I'd ever seen. We'll ignore its resemblance to an episode of Romper Room, though, and focus on the phenomena that several Tulsa World articles reported. I was not alone! Thomas Conner, in one of his oh-so-enlightening Hanson pieces, singled out a girl in the audience who was 21 and had flown all the way from New York City just to see the boys perform. Is it me or should I be looking that chick up? We apparently share a brain, afterall! Because of my late arriving flight (I didn't get there until almost 4 that afternoon) Jess and I hadn't had much of a chance to meet any of the Hanson fans at the show, but oddly enough the few we spoke to were from considerable distances away. It seems that people aren't kidding when they note that Hanson isn't as popular in Tulsa as the rest of the country. Well… there's also the possibility that the out-of-state fans are more obsessive and therefore more willing to go to extreme lengths for tickets. Hmm.. wonder who would do a thing like that?

As usual, Admiral Twin (admiraltwin.com, if you've been living under a rock for the past few months) performed remarkably well. For the hometown set they even deemed to play what has become my absolute favorite song on their album Unlucky, "I Don't Know All I know." AT pulled off a stunt with their introduction of this love song that their younger tour mates would probably not have survived… they dedicated it to some mystery girl named Jessica. Now, for those of you who were paying attention earlier I did indeed tell you that the girl with whom I stayed was named Jessica. Coincidence? I think so. Although that is her favorite song, so I suppose now would be a good time for a "dare to dream, baby" reprisal.

Being dedicated and resourceful fans Jess and I attempted to get one of Ike's guitar pics when the show came to an end, but we failed. Drowning our sorrows in merchandising seemed to be the only answer, so the two of us scampered up a bunch of stairs and into the lobby of the Mabee center. Who, me? Buy a calendar, a sticker, a program, and one of those laminated neckthingies? Never. They were.. uh.. for my grandmother. Yeah. That's it. I have long been wondering what would happen with the Hanson tour goodies as dates got added to the schedule, and I was surprised to find out that they had been put on the merchandise. The programs, for example, have one page in the center that is graced by nothing more than a blue-toned picture of the boys practicing with the show dates and locations written in apparently random sequence across it. This section of my Great Woods program had been practically bare with only eight or nine dates, but the one I bought for a friend at Tulsa was overflowing with shows and dates. The tee shirts had also been augmented, with the spiral of arenas on the back growing considerably since my day. Another alteration that caught my eye can be seen on the third page of the program. The early version I have shows a picture of Mr. Hanson and the boys beneath the main section of the page, but the one I got in Tulsa has two pictures, one of the three boys in color and a really good black and white shot of Zac who is, for some unkown reason, signing disposable cups. I was wondering about this, but there does indeed seem to be an at least semi-logical reason. With all of the problems that Hanson has been having of late with recognition it was probably wise to leave Walker's picture out.

Now here comes deep, dark, and dirty confession time: the first time I saw Admiral Twin I wasn't that impressed. This was probably excusable, due to the fact that I didn't know any of the songs and was far too pumped after having waited a year to see Hanson to even care. But after receiving my copy of "Unlucky" I changed my mind fast. Their music, full of high charged, high energy pop, has garnered them not only my high esteem but also popularity among online Hanson fans. A good number of my friends have become what I like to call, behind their backs, of course, John Russell teenies. So when Jess and I finished our spree at the merchandising stand and turned to spy John in all of his dark/good haired/indeterminate aged glory I was tickled pink. He was in the midst of being mobbed by a group of younger fans -- his back at a conveniently placed elevator door, no doubt in case of disaster -- and busily signing autographs with a benevolent grin spread across his face. Most of the people who asked him to sign things were really sweet, but a few made me want to start a society for the prevention of cruelty to AT. This one squat little adult pushed her daughter forward in line, butting ahead of a not inconsiderable amount of fans, and asked John no less than three times what the name of his band was. Then she had the gall to ask him to sign something for her daughter with, "a member of Admiral Twin, Hanson's opening band." For about a second it looked like he was actually going to do it, but then he politely told the woman that he didn't think he could write that much. Now it's one thing to not be an AT fan. That's just fine, to each his/her own. But to go up to a human being and assign him no importance beyond his status as friend-of-Hanson? That's out of hand.

Good old llama, still being in "omygosh I'm in Tulsa" related shock, just sort of stood there. In retrospect I must have looked really dumb, because I was right in front of him but didn't really want a signature, I just wanted to watch. Finally, after about five minutes of me looking like a bizarre Bottecelli carving, Jess inquired if I would be asking John for an autograph sometime in that century. After digging around in my pockets all I could come up with was a receipt from some gum I had bought in Boston, but I thought it would be rather cute to get his signature on the back. I certainly wasn't going to stoop to the level of many of the girls crowded nearby, the ones patiently holding out their hands to John and attempting not to laugh to hysterically as he sharpied his name on their skin. Personally I was a little worried by this trend, wondering when they'd start using their imaginations and proffering other body parts.

Speaking in front of Mr. Russell was a wee bit less intimidating than trying to form syllables in front of Hanson, so I was actually able to carry on a pathetically short conversation with him that went a little something like this. (No, actually.. .it went exactly like this, in the words of AT as they introduced one of their songs at the show.)

Llama: "Hi. I flew all the way from Vermont to see you."

Lord John Russell: "I'm impressed."

Llama: "I'm doubting my sanity."

Lord John Russell: "Me too."

Llama: "You were worth it, though."

Lord John Russell: "Thanks." ::brief smile::

I don't think I've ever gotten quite as into a Hanson show as I did at Tulsa. Normally I'm what one might call reserved, but the boys were so good and the atmosphere was so conducive to freaking out that I even went so far to do what my friends call "the Amanda shuffle." Many of us repeat offenders realize that Hanson concerts fit that Ruffles promotional campaign: "you can't eat just one." Well, it doesn't really fit it… you're not eating anything.. but you get my point. The shows are highly addictive, and worth every penny that many of us have squandered to see them.

Well, those of you who have read my Great Woods review probably remember my vow to actually have my existance acknowledged by Taylor Hanson. It didn't happen in this first installment of my pilgramage... but my story isn't over just yet.