Matchbox Twenty - Comerica Theater - 7/26/2013

As much as I embrace the label in a jaded attempt to disarm its pathetic sting, "hipster" doesn't really describe me. I listen to hundreds of musicians, scattered from every genre you can name (except ska, because fuck ska), but I never choose to like a band because they're obscure. Most of the time, I just like what I like, and sometimes that isn't cool. Case in point: my old preteen crush, Matchbox Twenty.

It's understandable if you don't like Rob Thomas and Co. They blossomed from the ashes of grunge, they're overplayed and overproduced, and the majority of their fans seem to be the "adult contemporary" crowd, which are those folks who buy jeans that are already torn, eat at Chili's because they like the bar, and read memoirs about ex-heroin addicts or cancer survivors.

Regardless, I still have a tongue-in-cheek love for Matchbox Twenty. I mentioned before that their 2000 album Mad Season is really great music for going through a breakup. In fact, two months ago, that was the only reason I agreed to cover this show, and now I wasn't too sure about it. Matchbox Twenty were my go-to band exactly 10 years ago, as a 13-year-old. Part of my desire to go this gig was to recapture whatever innocence I had before puberty had really run its course. Part of it was to get a little more closure on that relationship that I'm tired of talking about, you're tired of hearing about, but something still lingers there and it comes back to me in shadowlike moments.