In Which A Miley Cyrus Concert Changes Everything

The Shrew Who Couldn't Be Tamed

by COURTNEY NICHOLS

Remember the Miley Cyrus of yesteryear? With her Wild West aesthetic and her pronounced faith in God, Miley Cyrus maintained a Disney Channel demeanor of purity and poise. Her act might have seemed contrived, but at least she was consistent. That Miley Cyrus has gone up in flames.

Allow me to introduce you to the new, mature, slutty, pleather wearing Miley Cyrus. On June 21st, The House of Blues on Sunset Boulevard welcomed the nearly legal pop sensation. It was apparent the crowd included the original Miley fans. Unable to walk in stilettos and pleated miniskirts, their young adult bodies still seem suited for bedazzled Capri jeans and rolly back backs they sported when Miley Cyrus first became a household name 5 years ago.

Having gone to the event with my mother and two friends over the age of 22, we were subject to pre-teen stares of confusion that burned deep into the soul. Thank god we could drink. Everyone else was just drunk on Miley.

If a Los Angeles event is judged by the importance of the celebrities that attend, then this concert was surely a Z-list event. Besides the MTV VJ Kudus who introduced the performance, Lance Bass was hiding in the sound booth and Miley’s sister Noah was escorted through the crowd.

At 7:15 the festivities began. First Kudus attempted to energize the audience both at the HOB and those watching from home. Then they repeatedly projected the same lackluster interview Miley did for MTV a couple days before. Finally, the curtains drew and there stood Miley, wearing a studded belt over skintight black pants and a leotard leaving her hips exposed, and a silver necklace of an arrow pointing straight to her vagina.

She began her set with “Can’t Be Tamed.” I hate to admit it, but I was somewhat impressed. Though the staging was a disaster, her vocal range far surpassed most pop icons (with the exception of Xtina). It was apparent from her posture and the choreography that Billy Ray forced her to emulate Kristen Stewart’s portrayal of Joan Jett from The Runaways.

This belief was confirmed when she did a cover of “Cherry Bomb” halfway through her set. During which time I was forced to trace the borders of the room attempting to calm my cultural panic attack.

A list of adult movements Miley exhibited? She faux kissed a girl, she repeatedly gyrated and groped her lower regions, and she belted “shit” twice! I was loving it. I don’t think the parents shared in my enthusiasm. As expected, her set only lasted 40 minutes, but the real treasure trove of surprises waited outside.

As the valet line began to backup around the block, a girl with a church appropriate outfit of a pale pink skirt and bleached blonde hair was held in a cop car demanding, “I just want Miley!” Suddenly, the car door flung open as she threw up onto the sidewalk. In a moment of fury, she fell out of the car and began to crab walk down the road until her boyfriend insisted they lay down on the sloped concrete. Thank god for videophones. Thank god for videophones. Though Billy Ray and his posse were now directly behind us, it was definitely this obsessive fan that stole the show.

In conclusion? I wasn’t drunk enough. I don’t think I could have ever been drunk enough. My only hope is that one day, those Miley fans will wonder, “Who originally wrote that Cherry Bomb song?” and subsequently be exposed to an entire musical genre consisting of teenage rebellion. Only one thing is certain: that image of arrow-to-vagina will forever haunt my dreams.

Courtney Nichols is a contributor to This Recording. This is her first appearance in these pages. You can find her website here.

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