Once again it was concert time. I had won a pair of tickets from KCLC to see Oingo Boingo at Mississippi Nights.

When I arrived at Mississippi Nights I was surprised at all of the people there. I had only been to Mississippi Nights once before to see Camper Van Beethoven and it wasn't as crowded. I wasn't aware that Oingo Boingo had such a big following in the St. Louis area.

The place was packed elbow to elbow. I could barely see the band. The only thing I could think of for the first 20 minutes into the concert was that I wished I was taller.

I was calmly listening to the band belt out their songs from their latest live album when a sudden push form [sic] the rear shoved me into the middle of the floor. From there on it was defensive dancing. I was in what is known as "the pit" in concert terms.

I was shoved, kicked, pinched, my feet were stepped on, my hair was pulled and any sense of bearing I had when I came into the concert was now drowned in sweat.

At this point, I wasn't concerned with wanting to be taller, listening to the band, or even seeing the band. I just wanted to stay alive. Fortunately I lucked out. I got shoved all the way to the front of the stage.

At the front of the stage all I could do was stare at the lead singer, Danny Elfman. He was the only person in my range of sight anyway.

Elfman was a madman on th [sic] stage— screaming lyrics, dancing wildly, and smiling sadistically. He wasn't nice looking or even trying to be sexual but he was.

I found that listening to Oingo Boingo in concert ant [sic] listening to Oingo Boingo recorded were two entirely different experiences. The recordings are insipid by comparison. Their music is supposed to be animated visually which the band does with ease. A mere recording doesn't capture the raw energy the band has in a live performance.

Oingo Boingo played from 8 til 10 that evening, with two encores lasting until 10:30.