Shitty concert etiquette can destroy what could otherwise be an out-of-this-world concert experience. I’ve attended hundreds of metal, rock, and punk shows and witnessed all manner of drunken douchebaggery. The more intense the show, the more idiocy you’ll have to put up with.

I’m not a people person. I don’t go to shows to get shitfaced. I don’t go to shows to intentionally collide with people galloping in a sloppy circle while shadowboxing. There’s nothing wrong with either of those things, and I have no problem putting up with people who engage in them — I just want to enjoy an awesome live show.

Gogol Bordello played the Ritz Ybor last Monday. They were just as amazing as their last Bay Area appearance at the State Theatre, and I had an awesome time. Early on, however, I feared my evening would be ruined by the most egregious concert etiquette faux pas. An error so heinous it transcends rock shows and infringes upon normal everyday life: exceptionally awful body odor.

Vague artist rendering

A few songs into the set by well-selected tour openers Deleon, the otherwise fun-having crowd slowly growing in front of the stage encountered two 20-something males radiating foulness. The somewhat stocky kid of average build was clearly the second banana to Chief Stink, who towered at a lanky six-feet and would have stood out of the crowd just on the basis of his long, wavy red hair — that is, if he didn’t already fucking reek.

His hair was frizzed to near-Afro status due to the weeks-long drought of water and shampoo his scalp must have endured. I think grindcore pioneers Carcass named their first album, Reek of Putrefaction, after these two. They certainly reminded me of decomposing flesh. My wife remarked that Pigpen must smell like potpourri by comparison. The two of them, bless their hearts, brought energy to the center of the Ritz’s floor that outpaced the rest of the audience; but their smelly arrival prompted the creation of a one-foot halo of concertgoers around them who were hoping to avoid the stench. To make matters worse, the pair of stinkers started launching their rancid bodies into innocent bystanders, bringing an early start to moshpits characteristic of Gogol Bordello’s energetic headlining set.

As with all unwritten rules, exceptions will be made. I don’t see the point of going overboard with personal hygiene prior to any concert at Jannus Landing between March and November. Long festivals, especially outdoor shows like Warped Tour or Bonnaroo, are likewise exempt. But inside at the pleasantly renovated, well air-conditioned Ritz Ybor? For the sake of those around you, hose yourself the fuck off!

Only one group of people should be permitted to smell that badly at a rock show. You can usually find them on-stage.

It was ridiculously hot. It took me 15 minutes to realize that my white wife beater would become my face towel for the day. It was loud. It was colorful. It was my first time at Vinoy Park. And finally, at the age of 24, it was my first time experiencing Warped Tour.

It’s been three years since I attended a music festival and as I walked through the ticket line into a field filled with tents, stages, beer stands and even a slip n’ slide, I instantly recalled why I love outdoor fests; passing through the gates meant entering a world of the unpredictable and the unexpected. I didn’t know what kind of crazies I’d come across (there were bound to be some amidst the 10,000 attendees), what kind of new music I’d hear, or how pleased I’d be with the bands I was there to support.

The second thing I love about music festivals is people-watching. Scenesters were everywhere. I saw blue hair, purple hair, mohawks, rainbow socks, mesh shirts, ripped shirts, patched pants, asses hanging out of daisy dukes, bikini tops, all kinds of neon clothing, hundreds of tattoos as well as band shirts ranging from Minor Threat to Run-DMC to Hank Williams Jr. It was refreshing and entertaining.

I’m not going to lie, I was only interested in seven bands playing at Warped — Bad Religion, Less Than Jake, Streetlight Manifesto, Bouncing Souls, NOFX, Flogging Molly and Shooter Jennings (a surprising addition ) — but I was disappointed to find that the latter three acts fell off the line-up. However, Flogging Molly still had a merch tent set up, which Greg Graffin — lead singer of Bad Religion — made sure to knock at the end of Bad Religion’s set. Quite hilarious.

After arriving, my friend Zach and I checked out a couple of bands we’d never heard. I was able to tolerate the first, Chiodos, for about five minutes. Though the band seemed to have a solid fan base, the music just wasn’t for me; I’m not into the hardcore, scream-your-head-off fare with moments of melodic singing sprinkled in between.

When I asked a young girl the name of the next band I saw, she replied, “I set my friends on fire.” I stared at her with what must have been horror and contemplated whether or not she was on acid. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked. She replied, “The name of the band is I Set My Friends On Fire.” I laughed, thanked her and walked a safe distance to check out the two-man band from Miami. I only caught about five minutes of the show, and the music wasn’t memorable. Although, the one thing I did like about ISMFOF — and something I noticed at a few other stages — was the band’s intense energy and easy engagement with the crowd.

I found out the name of Cash Cash from a red-headed girl with cute freckles and braces, which should have been a warning sign. One of the musicians had a keytar so I had high hopes that the band would be better than the last two I’d seen. The members’ colorful attire and spunky attitudes perfectly correlated with their catchy, bubblegum, uber-pop sound. After listening to two songs, Zach summed it up perfectly: “They are the next stage of evolution for the boy bands.”

It was 3: 45 p.m.; time for Bouncing Souls.

I like Bouncing Souls, but it was my friend Zach who was eager to see them perform. I started out with him in the pit, but the second the push circles and moshing began, I backed away in fear of smashing my good camera and breaking my neck. Bouncing Souls delivered big for their fans, opening with “Kate Is Great” off 1997’s self-titled album. They also played cuts off Hopeless Romantic and How I Spent My Summer Vacation. I was happy to hear “Lean On Sheena” off their late, The Gold Record, because it’s the only Bouncing Soul song I know every word to thanks to its overplay on Sirius Radio. At the end of the set and in the middle of a song, vocalist Greg Attonito had fun with the crowd when he declared he was doing a first at Warped Tour — asking the audience to be as quiet as possible. “Everyone wants us to be loud, so we’re asking you to be quiet,” he said. It worked. The crowd was silent. He added, “Well done everybody, thank you, we appreciate it,” and then the crowd began devotedly clapping in sync and the song started back up for a strong finish. Zach’s description of the show: “Fucking brutal.”

Less Than Jake (LTJ) immediately followed Bouncing Souls. This was my third time seeing LTJ and the band was as good as ever. The musicians came out to the Star Wars theme and then picked up the tune with their own instruments. Trombonist Buddy Schaub never ceases to amaze me with his electrifying energy. He was all over the place, interacting with the crowd and loving the fans’ rowdiness. At one point he ran around, spraying the crowd with a water gun (pictured at left). I wondered how he had any breath left to play the trombone. As the band launched into “The Science of Selling Yourself Short,” I had a surprising revelation: I’ve always loved lead vocalist Chris Demakes, but for the first time I realized I’m more partial to bassist Roger Manganelli’s vocals. The Gainesville band had strong support from family members who’d turned out to see the show. Demakes’ mom (who appeared at the last LTJ show at Jannus) stood stage left and sang every word to every song — it was so endearing. Demakes’ mom wasn’t the only one singing along — of the two St. Pete policemen behind the barricades, one appeared to hate his job while the other sang along to LTJ’s tunes when he thought no one was looking.

LTJ’s setlist included: “Sugar in Your Gas Tank,” “Last One out of Liberty City,” “All My Best Friends Are Metal Heads,” “Help Save the Youth of America from Exploding” “Scott Farcus Takes It on the Chin” “Look What Happened,” “The Ghosts of Me and You” and “Conviction Notice.”

After LTJ we had an hour to kill before Bad Religion and Streetlight Manifesto. We took the opportunity to sit, cool down and take it all in. The Truth.com tent was having a contest to the sounds of Spice Girls and Aqua — it was bizarre and out of place. As I watched dirt that had turned into mud drip down my leg, I finally paid attention to the band that was playing in front of us, SET IT OFF from Clearwater. They were my favorite “new” band of the day, their songs catchy without being obnoxious. The musicians performed amazingly, breaking it down hard on stage.

At 6:55 p.m., we headed over to see Bad Religion.

I was psyched. I think it’s cool to see any band that’s been around for almost 30 years, and apparently so did a lot of other people. Bad Religion pulled one of the biggest, if not the biggest crowd at Warped Tour. After it started raining a couple minutes into the show, Graffin declared that whenever they play, it rains, because someone “up there” doesn’t like Bad Religion.” I got a good chuckle out of that one. The band was phenomenal. Graffin’s voice hadn’t changed; whether he screamed or sang melodiously, it was flawless. As much as the rain sucked, it was worth it to stick out the show. The set included “Infected,” “21st Century (Digital Boy),” “Requiem for Dissent” and “Sorrow.” On a side note, “Sorrow” was the last song I karaoked and let’s just say it was a real buzz kill for the crowd.

It was still raining when Bad Religion finished; a slight chill had replaced the unbearable heat. There was one band left I wanted to see — Streetlight Manifesto. I became a fan of the ska band over the past year and quickly fell in love with their first album, Everything Goes Numb. The band played a short set and there were some technical difficulties with the microphone. During a crowd favorite, “Here’s to Life,” the mic went completely dead, but the fans made sure to fill in the void with the appropriate lyrics. Even though lead singer Tomas Kalnoky’s vocals weren’t as strong live, the band was on point. There is something about Streetlight’s horn section that makes me want to dance … and I did.

My first Warped Tour experience was a blast. However it did somewhat defy my idea of the unexpected and unpredictable (at least when it came to the crowd): I had no exciting random conversations with strangers; I witnessed no fights or streaking; I came across no obliterated drunks; and I smelled weed less than five times. Maybe those are good things.

Most pop singers from the ’60s and ’70s who are fortunate enough to still be touring resort to what I call vocal cheats. That’s when they get to a point in an old hit that has a particularly high note they can’t hit — a note that especially resonates with the baby-boomer audience — so they either drop it an octave or turn it over to the background singers.

There’s nothing really shameful about these vocal cheats — it would be worse, for instance, if Daryl Hall tried to hit that big release note in “She’s Gone” and failed miserably. Or if Roger Daltrey attempted to render the big scream in “Won’t Get Fooled Again” and sounded like a frog.

I tell you all this because I saw Boz Scaggs last night at Ruth Eckerd Hall and he didn’t resort to any vocal cheats. He’s 65 years old. Very impressive. When, on “Lido Shuffle,” it came time for the “Lido, whoa, whoa” part, he was right on it — with the backup singers helping, yes, but not drowning him out and thus protecting him. Scaggs came up a little short or a little thin on some of the high notes, but he went for them all.

It wasn’t just the lack of vocal cheats that made Scaggs’ 75-minute set in front of a near-sold-out crowd a success. His voice still has that full, creamy texture of the old days, and his delivery and phrasing brimmed with nuance. (more photos below; all are by Tracy May)

Scaggs’ most recent albums have been made up of standards from the Great American Songbook. He set that material aside at REH, opting instead for a compendium of hits from the latter half of the 1970s and early ’80s (”Jojo,” “Lowdown,” “Georgia,” “Look What You’ve Done to Me” and others) as well as blues and R&B tunes from his early, early career. His encore was an extended version of the slow blues “Loan me a Dime” from his 1969 self-titled album.

Scaggs, who played guitar as well, was backed by five instrumentalists and a dynamic background singer who, I think, went by Miss Monet. She was as torrid as Scaggs was ultra-cool, and provided the ideal vocal foil. Miss Monet took center stage for a roof-raising version of the Aretha Franklin vehicle “Until You Come Back To Me.” Her performance drew a big smile from the perpetually laid-back Scaggs.

The band’s dynamics were impeccable, dialed back at times in order to make room for Scaggs’ supple pipes to take the spotlight, allowing him to contour the lyrics in fresh ways.

Besides the fact that he omitted “Breakdown Dead Ahead” and declined to sing any standards, I was thoroughly pleased with Scaggs’ set. A longtime fan, it was my first occasion to see him in concert.

Just for the record, Michael McDonald played the second set of the double bill. I’m not a fan, so only caught a few tunes and left. As a result, I’ll pass on offering commentary here — except to say that he sat facing the crowd behind an electronic keyboard as his feet pumped on pedals … and he was wearing flip-flops. Yeesh.

Here’s a photo, however.

The Killers will play UCF Arena in Orlando on Thursday, October 1.

Tickets are $52.00 for the General Admission Dance Floor, $38.00 for Reserved Lower Bowl Seating and $35.00 for Reserved Upper Bowl seating. They go on sale Saturday, June 27 at 10 am at LiveNation.com, charge by phone 877-598-8698 and all TicketMaster outlets. Day of show the price increases to $55.00 for GA Dance Floor, $41.00 for Lower Bowl and $38.00 for Upper Bowl.

Last time Miley Cyrus played Tampa Bay it set off a Ticketgate, with moms of young daughters up in arms about being screwed out of the opportunity to buy tickets. Many of them dropped several hundreds of dollars as to not run afoul with their progeny.

Let’s hope there’s not another ticket fiasco this time. Actually, the best thing that could happen is that Miley-mania has calmed down the extent that MILFs aren’t breaking the household budget to take 11-year-old young Brittany to see her heroine.

Here we go:

Miley Cyrus will perform at the St. Pete Times Forum on Tuesday, Dec. 1, 7 p.m.

More important, though:

Tickets for this event go on sale next Saturday, June 13th at 10am only at www.ticketmaster.com/mileycyrus and by Ticketmaster’s charge-by-phone number 800-745-3000. Tickets are priced at $39.50, $59.50, and $79.50. Prices do not include service charges.

Depeche Mode frontman Dave Gahan is recovering from a cancer scare! First hospitalized for gastrointestinal issues on May 12, Gahan couldn’t shake what his people thought was just a nasty stomach flu (I think swine flu was ruled out early on). It’s a good thing Detective John Kimble wasn’t around, because it was definitely a toomah!

From the band’s website:

On May 12th, lead singer Dave Gahan suffered a severe bout of gastroenteritis, leading to his hospitalization and the cancellation of the Athens concert. While in hospital, further medical tests revealed a low-grade malignant tumour in Dave’s bladder, which has since been successfully removed. At doctors’ orders Dave Gahan must take a break until June 8th, to ensure that he makes a full recovery. The Leipzig show on June 8 will be the first concert following Dave’s recovery.

All told, Depeche Mode cancelled or postponed 15 shows in the four weeks Gahan will spend out of commission.

How will this affect their September 4 show at the Ford Amp?

I imagine Gahan will work very closely with doctors following his cancer scare. Assuming he hasn’t blown any of his money on drugs since the 1996 overdose he claims causes him to involuntarily wake up every morning at 4:15, I think he takes better care of himself these days. I’m no doctor, but if he can get back on stage as early as June 8, he’ll probably be in fine shape for our show in September.

“Wrong” off Sounds of the Universe (2009)

“Personal Jesus” (live)

I wasn’t really sure what to expect going into Friday’s concert at Mahaffey Theater featuring an un-costumed, un-amplified-to-11 Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer. Maybe I was thinking too hard about it? After all, when you go see a band, they play their songs.  When you go see a comedian, he does his material. With Guest, McKean, and Shearer, reality lay in between — a hilarious, two-hour multimedia jaunt down memory lane complete with stories, clips, and songs predominantly from two classic film satires about seemingly disparate genres of music.

The evening followed a VH1 Storytellers format — song, story, song, rinse, repeat. “Hell Hole” from This is Spinal Tap opened the show, followed by a quick anecdote relative to the second song, The Folksmen’s “Wanderin’.”  The trio made latecomers with seats up front feel awkward: “You just missed the first two songs! We’ll play them again for you after the show is over,” McKean re-assured.

I began to realize that a trio of skilled improvisational comedians could bring a new twist to the concert cliche of audience members shouting out random things. Snappy comebacks were the order of the evening – especially during the mid-set Q&A. (When asked what his next film project was, Guest said he wanted to see the Wolverine movie). Even so, I don’t think anyone appreciated the obnoxious, hammered woman in the Muppets’ Statler & Waldorf balcony to the left of the stage.

McKean, center stage, seemed to be the star of the show. He’d recall stories relating to either of the fake groups while Shearer made witty interjections and created a near-vaudevillian stage presence. McKean reminisced about the theatrical success of This Is Spinal Tap. “Those were the days,” Shearer remarked on the film’s flop-upon-release.

And the stories were interesting! Apparently, MTV censors refused the ”Bitch School” video from their 1992 album Break Like the Wind for its overt sexism. My favorite recollection was a dramatic reading of NBC Standards & Practices chief Bill Clotworthy’s notes about unacceptible material that needed to be edited prior to the film airing one late Saturday night in 1984. Censorship even dogged the band in 2009 as both The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and NPR’s “Talk of the Nation” refused to allow a performance of “Sex Farm” on the air!

When Shearer became chief storyteller, the conversation assumed a more historical stance — much like when his Folksmen character stalls for time in A Mighty Wind. He discussed reading about Elvis Presley’s death in a New York Times article “while straining at stool” the morning before the trio performed Shearer’s own Grammy-nominated parody, “All Backed Up.” The only other song not from a film and the sole cover of the evening was a bluegrass rendition of The Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up,” which elicited awkward laughter with a seemingly endless repetition of its final line, “you make a dead man cum.”

As for musicianship, it’s clear the Berklee College of Music didn’t give Christopher Guest an honorary doctorate for shits and giggles. The Grammy-winning composer switched from guitar to mandolin to didgeridoo throughout the evening. McKean stuck mostly to guitar with occasional piano, and Shearer switched between electric and stand-up bass.

The bulk of the set was made up of music from This is Spinal Tap and A Mighty Wind (The Folksmen pictured right), and I felt the trio more than adequately covered songs from both. I couldn’t think of a single song from either film that wasn’t either played live, or projected with visuals onto the screen behind the band, like a fan-made Lego video for “Tonight I’m Gonna Rock You Tonight” (see below).

The trio also performed non-Folksmen tunes from A Mighty Wind, bringing out McKean’s wife Annette O’Toole for The New Main Street Singers‘ “The Good Book” and Mitch & Mickey’s “A Kiss At The End of a Rainbow.” Sadly, both McKean and O’Toole’s vocals — considerably stronger than Eugene Levy’s and Catherine O’Hara’s characters’ in the film — sucked the gentleness out of the song.

Guest assumed Nigel Tufnel’s accent for “Stonehenge,” and the screen displayed, to loud applause, troll dolls dancing around a miniature monument lowered by string. Shearer and McKean struggled with those high harmonies, but the video accompaniment was too awesome to be affected by their minor shortcoming.

After the ‘army of bassists’ approach to “Big Bottom” at Live Earth in 2007 (see below), the trio reduced the Spinal Tap classic to minimalist jazz — Shearer on stand-up bass, McKean and Guest on vocals and finger-snaps. The interpretive dancer was a nice touch, but I think the ode to chubby-chasing required a larger lady.

Seeing this music performed by these comedians in person served as a reminder of how brilliant they are — to be able to write songs in various styles that stand completely on their own in terms of quality and improvise entire films in character around the music takes true talent. As the band plugged in via distortion pedals for “Heavy Duty” during the final encore, the awesome level certainly hit 11.

“Big Bottom” from Live Earth, Wembley Stadium, 2007

via videosift.com

“Tonight I’m Gonna Rock You Tonight,” Lego video

Barely a month ago, I finally witnessed Iron Maiden live. It literally took half my life to see them. I documented the journey, from the show’s announcement through its conclusion. While nothing could top my Maiden experience, it seems the Metal Gods continue smiling down on me nonetheless.  After all, you can’t mention Iron Maiden without bringing up Judas Priest.

Is it possible? Maiden and Priest playing Florida in the same year?

Concert details and video after the jump.

Judas Priest hits the St. Pete Times Forum on August 16. This is awesome because I don’t have another drive to Ft. Lauderdale in me!

Priest will emulate the recent old-songs-only Maiden tour by performing the classic British Steel album in its entirety.  Bonus - as if you needed one: Whitesnake will provide support.

Priest last visited Tampa while opening for, and vastly outshining, the reunited Black Sabbath at Ozzfest ‘04. Frontman Rob Halford’s stage presence was definitely lacking. He moved slowly and deliberately around the stage, and perched like a vulture to sing. His voice, however, was as strong as in Priest’s heyday. K.K. Downing and Glenn Tipton delivered their trademark dual guitar melodies. And drummer Scott Travis‘ steady double-kick injected new life and ferocity into the band’s classic material as he has since he joined the band prior to Painkiller.

Unlike my Maiden experience, I’ve seen Priest twice before – once with Tim “Ripper” Owens, the tribute-band singer whose story inspired the godawful film Rock Star, and once with Halford – but I’m still excited! The band re-visiting British Steel will be a treat. It’s not the album I would have picked, but it’s what introduced the band to their American audience. Besides, anything that distracts Priest from their mediocre post-reunion material, particularly the ridiculous Nostradamus concept album, is appreciated.

“Breaking The Law” from Rising In the East (2005)

“A Touch of Evil” from Rising In the East (2005)

“Hell Bent For Leather” from Live Vengeance ‘82 (1982)

Swine flu

Noun Pathology:

A form of influenza caused by overly aggressive pigs (also known as law enforcement professionals) that occurs commonly after close encounters with these infectious vermin. Symptoms include nausea, despair, and a general lack of a good time.

After a successful performance at the State Theatre in St. Petersburg, I caught a flight this past Friday to rock mics with the rest of B.A.S.E. Inc at Radford University’s Quadfest 2009 in Virginia. We were all excited to play a show together for the first time on our home turf. Little did we know that we were the ones about to get played.

We arrived on Radford’s campus after the four-hour trek from northern Virginia. It was still too early to check into our hotel so we decided hit up the Alpha Sigma Phi frat house where we were scheduled to perform and maybe sneak a sound check in. Despite several earlier assurances that the DJ would have everything we needed, we discovered that he did not.

We had three mics. He had one mic input.

Sound familiar?

Rather than get upset, we dipped out to find the local music store. The folks at Barry’s Music (17 years and counting) were quite helpful but didn’t have any more four-channel mixers. It was apparently a really big party weekend at Radford and they were sold out. They did, however, direct us to the local Radio Shack. That store informed us that they too were lacking what we needed but secured the necessary goods at their Roanoke branch. We headed there immediately, but by now it was 30 minutes after we were scheduled to perform. Our gracious guests agreed to the delay and just told DJ Bonds to keep spinning.

Radford and Roanoke are separated by 50 miles of the pig infested Interstate 81 highway. It was here that F.a.T fell victim to the Virginia strain of swine flu. Allegedly, he was clocked doing 78 miles per hour in a 65MPH zone. I say allegedly because we noticed the unmarked vehicle ahead of us and were only going 60mph when we passed him. I say allegedly because this moving unmarked car is supposedly equipped with the ability to get a radar reading from an antenna placed in the back or front windshield allowing it to read data from all directions provided they are coming from the same plane. I say allegedly because the officer said “I clocked you doing about 78.”

About? Where exactly is “about” on a radar gun/antenna?

While being delayed and detained, it was discovered F.a.T’s license had been suspended unbeknownst to him because of an unpaid parking ticket last month. Our radar technician-slash-patrolmen, who looked a lot like Farva from Super Troopers, notified Jake of his suspended status since the party responsible for suspending his license had failed to do so. Oh, and he confiscated his license on the spot, meaning yours truly got to drive the rest of the way. We finally made it to Roanoke around 3 p.m. with no further trouble and bought what we needed. Our friends at Radio Shack didn’t tell us the mixer didn’t come with a power source or batteries but that was nothing a quick trip to 7/11 couldn’t fix.

We finished introducing ourselves to crowd of almost 300 party-minded students and I turned around to tell Bonds to play the first track in our set, “Smokers Only.” Instead of hitting me with the beat, he dropped a facial expression bomb while pointing behind me in equal parts terror and disgust.

An assorted dozen of local police officers stormed the field, turning our felicitous crowd into fleeing mob. I wasn’t aware that cops could break up parties on private property in the middle of the day. There were no noise complaints or fights.

We weren’t even having wet t-shirt contests like the house across the street. Just music and beer. Perhaps some of the kids were not quite old enough to drink. The officers sure were not checking IDs. They simply told everyone, “If you don’t live here, you gotta go.” Unfortunately, this prodigal son’s triumphant return was thwarted by a sinister strain of swine flu.

I know.  When you go see a shitty band, shitty concerts usually ensue. Keep reading.

Papa Roach dropped their major label debut Infest in 2000.  Their first and arguably biggest hit to date, “Last Resort,” shamelessly plagiarized various classic Iron Maiden riffs, and along with bands like Korn and Disturbed helped to usher in the nu-metal hey day of chugga-chugga riffs and lyrics so embarrassingly angst-ridden that even grunge bands must be ashamed to have been of influence. Thanks to mediocre ballads like “Forever,” Papa Roach stuck around. Most recently, guitarist Jerry Horton called their new album Metamorphosis, “rock record of the decade.” I’ll at least credit them for the Kafka reference.

This brings us to last Thursday night in Manchester, England. Courtesy of an e-mail to U.K. website Rock Sound, a concertgoer just couldn’t, or perhaps, didn’t care to make it to the restroom.

Read the unbelievable e-mail after the jump.

Here’s the e-mail.

Hi Rock Sound, I just thought I’d let you know that last night, at the Papa Roach show in Manchester, somebody did a shit at the back of the mosh-pit! About halfway through Papa Roach’s set, everybody started commenting on how bad the smell was. I guess it was like someone had farted or something, but it was MUCH worse. All of a sudden there was a massive gap in the crowd and my friend told me that someone had actually done a shit! I turned around and saw this guy with cleaning materials wiping it up!!! Thank God I didn’t step on it. I don’t think the band were aware of it, I didn’t hear them tell people to do it anyway, I think this person just decided he needed to shit. I have no idea whether people were skidding in it or whether there was wiping action.

Incredible. We obviously needed to check that this was true, so Rock Sound asked Neil Mahony (of Amplifier fame), who was helping out at the show. This is what he had to say:

“I can confirm the Papa Roach story. The smell was dreadful and the security were livid. As far as I know, the guy never got caught. Stealth shit.”

I like how Americans “take a shit” but Brits ‘do a shit.’  It’s the little differences.