Aaron Carter

Last night I made my way down to the Aaron Carter concert.  It was held at the Magic Bag Theatre in Ferndale, a facility that can handle maybe 300 people at its absolute peak.  I was able to finagle a spot in the second row of general admission locations, near enough that I could touch Aaron (if I were so inclined).  I was adrift in a sea of women who were hellbent on making Aaron their lover.  I literally could only find three other men and, it being Ferndale, I may have been the only person on the main floor not lusting after Aaron.

The concert started off with some song that required Aaron and his dancers to run around the stage waving huge American flags.  Then he proceeded to run through his limited catalogue, seeming to genuinely enjoy the cozy venue.  Things got a bit stranger when it was announced that he needed to find two women for the next song and his bouncers searched for the lucky ones.  They then sat on stools and Aaron sang a soulful ballad to them and kissing both of them on the cheek.  It was kind of heartmelting...until he went back to the first one and full-on made out with her, sat on her lap, and used her phone to take a picture with her.  It made me feel awkward.  We got back on track when he changed into his #34 O'Neal Los Angeles Lakers jersey and sang "That's How I Beat Shaq" and "I Want Candy."  I was singing along and leaping out of my shoes.  His encore, of course, was "Aaron's Party," capping the night with the best teenybopper jam of the past 15 years.

Today, though, I felt a bit guilty.  I went to the concert for the novelty of the situation.  Here's this guy who used to be big time at 14 but playing the Magic Bag at 25.  He was once a star, and now he's almost completely faded.  He was reduced to singing the songs that made him famous as a tween star.  Isn't that degrading?  But wasn't I only there to see those songs?  Didn't I wonder if he'd sing them and how'd they sound if he did?  I was laughing all night in pure delight, but was that because of the performance or his fall from the top?  And if it's the latter, why do I enjoy this riches to rags story?

For the record, I had a very fun time, even disregarding his precipitous decline.  I don't have all the answers and still feel a bit dirty and strange, but I can't deny that it was an adulating atmosphere.