705: miles I drove round-trip to see the band. That same distance would’ve gotten me to northern California, or pretty deep into Montana.
1997: the year Lifetime broke up.
17: age I first heard Lifetime, about five years after they released their genre-defining swan song “Jersey’s Best Dancers.” I’m 22 (and a half, for math’s sake) now. Therefore:
25: percent of my lifetime that, uh, Lifetime has been one of my absolute favorite bands. Considering I only really got into music in general at around the age of 13, it’s closer to half of my life. Thus, how I justified dropping:
96: dollars in gas (generously averaging it at $2.75 a gallon). The carbon footprint for my punk-rock weekend was pretty large, but come on. Fucking Lifetime!
7.50: dollars TicketsWest wanted to charge me in service fees to pre-order tickets. Nah, brah.
1: times I gave a shit during Seattle generi-core snoozers Sinking Ships’ opening set (for about a minute, during the dynamic, melodic and, thankfully, set-closing “Ghost Story”).
7: times I’ve seen Shook Ones, the wonderfully Lifetime-aping outfit to whose newest full-length I devoted 1200 words in one of last year’s Ears. With non-stop stagedives, sing-a-longs and songs pulled from all across their discography, it was by far the most fun I’ve had seeing them.
1: stagedives Lifetime guitarist Dan Yemin attempted during Shooks’ final song, at the band’s incessant behest. Kids were stoked.
1: stagedives I attempted during Shooks’ final song, at absolutely no one’s behest. No one was stoked.
11: songs included on Lifetime’s self-titled comeback album, controversially released on Fall Out Boy bassist Pete Wentz’s imprint Decaydance.
0: songs included on Lifetime’s self-titled comeback album that, in any way, tarnish their reputation. Though it lacks the rough-hewn, basement-show charm of their older records, it’s still really, really good.
1: songs they played off this new album before launching into “Turnpike Gates,” “Dancer’s” classic opening song.
1: songs they played before I bum-rushed the stage, howled the lyrics in singer Ari Katz’s face and more or less lost my shit at seeing one of my favorite bands ever. (Translation: when they played “Gates,” I lost my shit).
ALL: classic bangers from their two ’90s albums Lifetime played, sprinkled with a few choice jams from the new one. Seriously, this was some “Live at Budokan” shit as far as amazing live setlists go.
50: percent of stagedives attempted throughout the night that were successfully completed (one out of two, during Lifetime’s final song “25 Cent Giraffes.”)
0: times I had stagedived before that night.
2.5: number of high-fives given to members of Lifetime. One was administered to Yemin during a song, but while I went for the open-handed, standard five, he went with the closed-fist “pound.” He adapted, and the high-five was completed. Ergo, one and a half. The second came after the show, as Katz exited the club to smoke. The high-five was given, and Katz yelped in agony. I’m not that strong, so I inquired why it hurt so badly. He showed me how he’d punctured his finger with a nailgun. Turns out I’m not that strong. My bad, dude.
1: spot Lifetime has taken on my list of all-time, most fun shows I’ve ever attended. If that’s what growing up looks like in the arrested-development culture of hardcore punk, then I’ll see you there.
