AP editor seeks dirt and drama but only finds community at the APMAs

Editor-in-chief Jason Pettigrew chronicles his experience at the 2015 APMAs. (Header by Paris Visone.)

If there was one prominent, recurring theme to this year’s APMAs (besides “Dude, where can I get a pair of those Macbeth Skullys?”), it would most definitely be community. By now, you've seen the clips, heard the collaborations and saw the recaps. But what you didn't see was the living, breathing version of an iPod, where players from a breadth of genres hung out, exchanged pleasantries, respect and some straight-up joy.

About 90 minutes before the first AXS-TV red carpet interviews began, Every Time I Die frontman Keith Buckley was a ball of excitement yet feeling kind of panicked. He suggested that the lower third (the captions that run across the bottom of a screen) with his name on it be changed after every segment, from ridiculous names to something more normal. Like “Geddy Lee.” Brendon Urie strolled down the hallways of the Q in his red jacket, exuding the confidence of a straight-up boss, saying hello to everyone he encountered, but taking time to enthuse about the event or wax poetic on someone's finery. He greeted me drawling, “Looking gooood.” When I asked him if that was a compliment or his current state of mind, he laughed at the “gotcha” moment and kept rolling down the hall. In New Found Glory's dressing room, Chad Gilbert, Ian Grushka and Cyrus Bolooki were chatting up Warped Tour founder Kevin Lyman about his new fall event, It's Not Dead Fest, exclusively dedicated to old-school punks. Ever the music fan, Gilbert bummed out learning he'd be on tour during the show; prior to going onstage, he'll ask me for some non-specific music suggestions.

Prior to showtime, the AP staff show producers—Josh Bernstein, Dawn Marshman, Joe Scarpelli and AP founder Mike Shea—had a toast with All Time Low and their team, showing appreciation and camaraderie for all of the years working together. Shea wrote them a note attached to the champagne further articulating the gratitude, as well as a joking aside to hosts Jack Barakat and Alex Gaskarth: “Don't Franco it!”

As All Time Low began the proceedings for their “punk history” medley, a lanky dude in an orange jumpsuit started bouncing around in the pit at the front of the stage. The exuberant guy was not one of Slipknot's longtime diehard “maggots” but CLE's homegrown rapper MGK, repping it old-school and having a blast. During Alex and Jack's monologue, a number of well-wishers approached me to congratulate AP and say thanks for the invite. I totally did not recognize Buddy Nielsen with his quite impressive beard, but the Senses Fail CEO laughed it off and remained awesome with his praise of the event. Josh “Jake” Scogin and Michael “Elwood” McClelland of '68 did it up in Blues Brothers couture right next to elegantly clad Beartooth founder Caleb Shomo, who was surrounded by an entourage of friends and business liaisons. Shomo was grateful for his band's three nominations, and although he didn't win any, he was honored by the acknowledgment. (Scoop alert: Expect a big announcement from that camp in the very near future.) Burly and beautiful Andy Williams, guitarist for Every Time I Die, chose to blend his two worlds of rock fury and wild-ass wrestling, donning Lucha Libre-style formalwear for the event. He told me that since he began training as a wrestler, he's learned that the sport takes less toll his body than performing. “I mean, it's all body damage but after jumping around on wooden and concrete stages it's nice to move in a ring that gives when you jump on it.”

The men of Motion City Soundtrack were on hand to represent: They feel like loyal friends who are supportive of what we do. Put it this way: If AP were a old-school barbershop, those guys would be reading old issues and waiting their turns in the chair. Except for Justin Pierre, who will always have the coolest hair in rock music. (Yes, that joke wrote itself, but the sentiment, built on years of watching his band's career grow is not the slightest bit ironic or hokey.) It was also great seeing Bryce Avary—known to your hard drive as the Rocket Summer—after far too long an absence. He and his wife charged to the front of the stage right before Weezer's set. None of this look-cool-in-the-back-with-your-arms-folded bullshit. Thanks, Bryce.

Prior to his advancing to the stage to announce “Song Of The Year” winners, I approached Never Shout Never frontman Christofer Drew to congratulate him on his new LP. But he didn't really need it, as it seemed he was already pretty happy when I found him. “What do you think,” he asked me. “I'm gonna give a shout-out to pizza. What should I do?” I suggested to him that he simply should do Chris Drew. “I'll do that then!” And he did.

But rock music, like life, is not all about the warm and fuzzies. Were there some uncomfortable moments at the APMAs? Metro Station's Trace Cyrus, bare-chested and inked, had his Axl Rose moment, calling out Alex and Jack for a joke they didn't even write. (Former AP contributor Trevor Kelley tweeted at me, “Someone get that boy a shirt.”) Bullet For My Valentine's Matt Tuck slept in, thereby missing his plane and leaving Asking Alexandria's Ben Bruce to announce Halestorm with Corey Taylor by himself—and promise me he'd be ruthless about Tuck onstage. Taking Back Sunday were slated to play “Crossroads” with the assistance of a gospel choir and an all-too-rare appearance by Bone Thugs-N-Harmony; sadly the collaboration was canceled due to a death in the hip-hop icons' family. In the crowd, some loudmouth was sharing his distaste for the event quite loudly—probably drinking on our dime. The exchange was loud enough to make Man Overboard's kickass bassist Nik Bruzzese to lean in and ask me if “I needed some protection.”

Vanguard Award recipient Rob Zombie took a moment to remind the crowd that White Zombie’s first record for Geffen, 1992’s La Sexorcisto: Devil Music Volume One was unceremoniously trashed by AP. The review warned that they were “‘The worst band ever. Ignore this band.’” He also thanked the crowd for “ignoring that review.” If the awards show were in 2001, there would have been a cringe factor that may have hit 7.1 on the Richter scale. Since that fateful review, RobZom has been on the cover of AP three times. I still totally back Zombie simply because he had no problem throwing down “Thunder Kiss ‘65” with Motionless In White, who are forwarding the realm of electro-metal through their own prism. Rob Zombie gets it.

Also on the frenemies tip, Weezer founder Rivers Cuomo told the AXS red carpet how AP's first cover story on his band nearly broke them up during their turbulent (yet artistically magnificent) Pinkerton era. They too ended up on several more covers (and I ended up on the Green Album's thank-you list #humblebrag). But that's all bridge water, as well: not only did Weezer enlist the help of the v. awesome Candy Hearts founder Mariel Loveland (“Go Away”), they ended their set with a rousing version of their signature hit “Buddy Holly,” that had a good portion of the Contemporary Youth Orchestra members flailing on their instruments and shooting up the “W” logo with their hands, as the band left the stage in a hurricane of feedback.

Yeah, the 2015 APMAs was teeming with great performances, good friends and a couple miscarriages of fate. But for me, there was one moment that really conveyed what the APMAs are about. A black-clad, red-bearded dude who had been significantly slinging the booze started complimenting me on my shopping-mall, new-wave red skinny tie. He figured out I worked for AP (musta been the shoes) and ramped up his excitement, thanking the mag for making the show happen. He asked if I saw the nominees for MTV’s 2015 Video Music Awards. “The heaviest thing on there is Hozier,” he said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. He gestured to one side of the arena and said, “Everyone here tonight needs a show that’s definitely not Hozier. And you guys are it.”

In last year’s APMAs commemorative issue, I ended my editorial on the origins of the show thusly: “The show may have AP’s name on it, but it belongs to all of us.” This year the show conjured a golf-ball-sized lump in my throat after seeing the community formed around this non-mainstream music. But that's my experience. To me, it still seems surreal that an independent magazine from Cleveland was able to unite all these tribes for one night for a 30th anniversary celebration. Shouldn't somebody else be doing that? Someone with huge-ass pockets short on vision but big on favors owed? Someone who can bring in Kanye, Katy Perry, and Jay Z riding in on chrome-plated unicorns (tricked out with horns that double as corkscrews for immediate bottle service) while a legion of twerking specialists kept on retainer by Pitbull threaten to carve a faultline into the city of Cleveland? Shouldn't we just keep our heads down, put out magazines, maintain a website and create tours that appeal to our scene and not worry about putting the world on notice? An awards show certainly isn't going to save the world. But it's not about saving the world, it's about galvanizing our world, a community that's been marginalized for so long. Is that really up to a bunch of (near) Midwest types?

Then I think about that guy at the show angrily dejected by the VMAs, gesturing at the assembled multitude at the Q Wednesday night. Fuk'n Hozier? Game on. See you all in 2016. alt