Technically I spent the next hour watching Paramore, but I can’t say I was paying that much attention. Instead I took about twenty minutes to fight my way into the “mosh,” finally located my friends, and then chatted with them. I’m not even sure if I’d heard a Paramore song before seeing them, and they lived up to my mental image of the group – a friendly pop-punk band that really doesn’t warrant the “punk” half. Frontlady Hayley did exude a youthful enthusiasm that couldn’t help but be infectious, and I’ll admit a smile came to my face when she dragged a young fan up on the stage to sing along with her.
I’d been intending to catch Cancer Bats around this time, and then Fucked Up an hour or so later. I’ve seen Fucked Up twice but was eager to see them again, as they always put on a fantastic show. Ultimately, the dense crowds, the disparity between the sound inside and outside the D-barrier and the fact that I’d just spent over an hour trying to find my friends meant I made one of those “festival compromises” and stayed in the D, ready to see the entire Blink-182 set.