AF Star Search 2000

On February 22, the forces of darkness converged, once again, upon South Campus at Harriman Hall for a talent show conducted by the ladies of the Alpha Phi sorority. Security was tight-let me tell you. This humble Generation writer has wormed his way backstage at Smashing Pumpkins concerts, past the hired guns of the Wu-Tang Clan and into their inner-sanctum (and they said that I "ain't no one to fuck with"), but never have I been stonewalled as hard as I was that night by a young woman with a Long Island accent wearing Abercrombie and Fitch. OK, so I wasn't going to be sneaking in the back that night, she had a valid argument after all: everyone else was paying their seven bucks to get in. It was only fair, right?

Scene: Main Entrance, ticket desk. Actors: My friends and I looking severely out of place. Action: Girl asks what organization we belong to. I lie, "Sammies." She doesn't believe me. We pay our money, receive our cute little tickets and proceed to the entrance two feet away--where we were asked to display those same tickets to get in. Of course, before we actually made it that far, we were cut by a crowd of guys wearing Greek letters who, by some miracle, knew the ticket-taker and got in for free. Of all the freakin' coincidences...

The Royal Pitches started the evening with a rousing a cappella rendition of Six Pence None the Richer's "Kiss Me," which was well received, but the crowd's patience began to wear thin as they launched into their second set. The crowd wanted--nay, needed--Dave Mathews, or at least a cheap knock-off. And they got it. Over and over again. The acoustic duo just wouldn't stop--until the Blue's Traveller wannabees demanded their turn. The guitarists were tired--they had to sit during their entire set as the singer in stark opposition (maybe he missed the memo) cavorted and struck glamour poses to the delight of the crowd.

But he wasn't "Noonan," the legendary Greek Hero of UB who reluctantly took the stage and played some electric classics such as the Eagle's "Hotel California," oblivious to the fact he was playing for an audience. He looked so frail standing there, all alone, in his sweater. Poor Noonan.

Easily, the highlight of the show was one sorority's choreographed number to Britney Spears' "...Baby, One More Time." I guess. Well, shit bounced, that's all I can say.

Gray Skies Inside: Colin Hargraves and Matt Lange

But then... something radically different happened. "Do you like Metallica? Sorry, that's not what you're going to hear: we're punk rock!" Four crazy kids took the stage, howling defiantly under the name "Gray Skies Inside." The four-piece band was ready to take the night in the name of freedom, non-conformity, and all that truly rocks. Colin Hargraves sang with the affected accent and twang of Johhny Rotten-as British as an American band could be. The band was fueled by the hyper-intensity of bassist Matt Lange, who kept the sound at a feverish high and ran laps around the stage-all while using his strings as a cheese shredder, grinding his hand down to a bloody stump. Nick Wagner assisted on guitar, adding a touch of sanity to the performance. On drums, Nathan Galbreath kept the pace, with near prefect timing, allowing the others to keep on track. You may be able to catch these guys again, perhaps under the name "A Better Tomorrow." Don't miss it: Generation will keep you posted.

Gray Skies Inside: Matt Lange

Other acts included a stomp session by a fraternity, who after banishing their pledges who stood still and silent for the duration of the talent show wearing black hoods, preceded to bust some shit up with an amazingly session of percussion beats created by foot tapping and clapping, with dance and some vocals added into the mix. These guys had some serious talent, though they did drag the show on a bit longer than they needed to.

All in all, it was seven dollars well spent. Thanks for the memories Alpha Phi.

by Richard Leader