March 8, 2009
I don’t really spend that much time listening to post-hardcore, or emocore, or whatever it’s called these days, but once a month or so I’ll revisit Saosin’s catalog and remember why I used to love it so much. Sonically, this band transcends most of what’s out there in the realm, and it goes without saying that their instrumental talent is understated even at their current place. I have a story about Saosin that makes some people laugh. Back when I was in high school I went to see the band at Tulagi, a place that Boulderites will remember fondly as the last venue in the city to consistently host top-shelf best pop-punk and hardcore bands. It shut down right before I went to college at CU, which was ironic, because it had a heavy hand in my decision to go there. Oh well. Anyway, Kam and I—and one other friend whose identity is slipping my mind—decided to check out Saosin before the Bled jumped on stage. We were walking up to the venue when all of a sudden Anthony Green popped up out of the shadows and called us over. “Hey guys, do you like music?” We all told him we did and that we knew who he was, which weirdly surprised him. It made him happy too, apparently; he offered to smoke us up and we followed him into the alley behind the Fox Theater where he produced a roach about the size of my fingernail. “Here you go, enjoy!” You should have seen us back there, a couple of 17 year olds trying to figure out how to kill a roach with the singer of Saosin (before they were really anything to speak of, popularly). It was a great moment. Anthony ended up giving us some tickets to the show, which was vastly underattended. Seriously, there might have been twelve or thirteen people there, and this was summer so it was like nobody even knew there was a show at all. Saosin jumped on stage and pretty much just played for us, Anthony giving his most passionate performance while we jumped around on the empty floor. During Seven Years, I got real close to the stage and started screaming into Anthony’s mic as he held it to me…I think he was still really surprised anybody knew the words to Saosin’s music. Seemingly more excited by the unexpected crowd participation, Anthony Green started to shake and pop on the stage, harder than before, and threw himself into a full cartwheel. Unfortunately for me, I was still right in front of him as he began the acrobatic move, and he barreled into my face feet first, kicking me to the ground. I laid there for a second and started to notice all the blood rushing out of my nose, all over my clothes and onto the floor. I probably should have gone to wash it off; but you know how it is, in those moments. I ended up ruining all my clothes that night, but I can distinctly remember wearing a white shirt covered in blood for a couple weeks after that. Sometimes being young is about holding onto the physical representations of memories like that one. I’ll always remember Saosin as they were that night…even if Anthony Green isn’t singing for them anymore.

I don’t really spend that much time listening to post-hardcore, or emocore, or whatever it’s called these days, but once a month or so I’ll revisit Saosin’s catalog and remember why I used to love it so much. Sonically, this band transcends most of what’s out there in the realm, and it goes without saying that their instrumental talent is understated even at their current place.

I have a story about Saosin that makes some people laugh. Back when I was in high school I went to see the band at Tulagi, a place that Boulderites will remember fondly as the last venue in the city to consistently host top-shelf best pop-punk and hardcore bands. It shut down right before I went to college at CU, which was ironic, because it had a heavy hand in my decision to go there. Oh well.

Anyway, Kam and I—and one other friend whose identity is slipping my mind—decided to check out Saosin before the Bled jumped on stage. We were walking up to the venue when all of a sudden Anthony Green popped up out of the shadows and called us over. “Hey guys, do you like music?” We all told him we did and that we knew who he was, which weirdly surprised him. It made him happy too, apparently; he offered to smoke us up and we followed him into the alley behind the Fox Theater where he produced a roach about the size of my fingernail. “Here you go, enjoy!” You should have seen us back there, a couple of 17 year olds trying to figure out how to kill a roach with the singer of Saosin (before they were really anything to speak of, popularly). It was a great moment.

Anthony ended up giving us some tickets to the show, which was vastly underattended. Seriously, there might have been twelve or thirteen people there, and this was summer so it was like nobody even knew there was a show at all. Saosin jumped on stage and pretty much just played for us, Anthony giving his most passionate performance while we jumped around on the empty floor. During Seven Years, I got real close to the stage and started screaming into Anthony’s mic as he held it to me…I think he was still really surprised anybody knew the words to Saosin’s music.

Seemingly more excited by the unexpected crowd participation, Anthony Green started to shake and pop on the stage, harder than before, and threw himself into a full cartwheel. Unfortunately for me, I was still right in front of him as he began the acrobatic move, and he barreled into my face feet first, kicking me to the ground. I laid there for a second and started to notice all the blood rushing out of my nose, all over my clothes and onto the floor. I probably should have gone to wash it off; but you know how it is, in those moments.

I ended up ruining all my clothes that night, but I can distinctly remember wearing a white shirt covered in blood for a couple weeks after that. Sometimes being young is about holding onto the physical representations of memories like that one. I’ll always remember Saosin as they were that night…even if Anthony Green isn’t singing for them anymore.

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