Jack Pearadin and Doug Nelsen found a 1.73-carat diamond after nearly a year of searching the park's field.
A point/counterpoint review, featuring curmudgeonly yet indulgent boomer dad and alt-metal indoctrinated teen-age son:
Dad: We arrived during Seether's set. From outside, the arena throbbed with a seismic wash of bass-heavy rawk. Checking my dignity at the door, I had an inappropriately intimate encounter with the security guy. The Lyle Lovett show wasn't like this.
Son was turned away because his trendy watch chain was too weapon-like. After stashing the “weapon” under a rock, we entered the Decibel Dome.
I liked Seether better than I thought I would, but I like old people with acoustic guitars better.
Son: I know, Dad. I prefer young people playing electric guitars. Loud ones.
Dad: Breaking Benjamin's set was a ham-fisted sludgefest totally lacking all subtlety, nuance, or sense of dynamics. This stuff is brain-hammering derivative grunge-metal for teen lemmings.
Son: Dude, Breaking Benjamin was awesome. They rocked. I wanted to climb stuff and mosh shirtless. Why didn't we get floor tickets?
Dad: Three Days Grace is no Joni Mitchell. They sure get everybody doing that devil-horn hand thing in unison, though. Dang, these kids sure are into that song “Pain,” where the word “pain” is projected in 30-foot letters behind the band. Jeez, these kids don't know the meaning of the word: How many of these darn emo kids ever had to pay for health insurance? Insurance companies, there's your “pain” (without love).
Son: Dude, “I Hate Everything About You” and “Animal I Have Become” rocked!
Dad: How did they rock?
Son: Dude, many ways: hard, well, a lot, awesomely. (Screams “Blaaaaaah!”)
Dad: The guy played an Alice in Chains song he says he grew up listening to. Like, kickin' it old school. I am now officially 500 years old.
Son: Dude! That totally rocked!