Harry and the Potters work their, er, magic. July 2004 Photo by Nate Backous.

When people remember us, the new “Me” generation, what’ll come to mind first? Our incomparable range of self-expression? Impressive technological ken? Extreme-sports prowess? My vote is on that whole “I’ll-have-my-cupcake-and-eat-it-too” thing: we just refuse to grow up.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Adults, after all, have made multi-millions on books hawking ways to get your “creativity” back. In fact, if you want to be a child, adulthood is the perfect time to do it. You’ve got a driver’s license, a credit card, and a place of your own, which means that freedom, drugs and alcohol are all readily available for your regression enhancement. No hiding behind irony anymore! There’s almost too many kinds of fun to be had, so you’ll be danged if you limit yourself.

That being said, is painting your face like a cat’s and donning a tin-foil hat any way to behave at a bar? S**t yes, hint pro-library propagandists Harry and the Potters, who took to the Hi-Dive stage on July 28 wearing matching glasses and Gryffindor house colors.

Down in front, thick schoolboy scarves belied the July heat wave and babies sailed by atop shoulders. In the hall by the bathroom, a lone youth with foam plugs shoved in his ears sat alone, crying. Further back, gaggles of variously awkward tween girls clasped the hands of valiantly geeky boys, and in the rear, a pack of twenty-somethings stood with arms folded, wondering if they’d gone too far this time. Not surprisingly, the band (a three-piece, with considerably less enthusiastic “Ringo Weasley” at the drums) pelted us with goofy pop-punk, the immunity from which could only be found behind two rows of tropical-colored braces.

Also not surprisingly, the congregation seemed to know every cute, simple lyric by heart, which came in especially handy during the many crowd-participation segments. A song about Hagrid, for example, prompted “YMCA”-style gestures mimicking hugs and hearts. You could find yourself, at other times, being prompted to make vomiting noises (the adorable kind) on cue. The obvious favorite, the anthemic “Save Ginny Weasley,” sired an almost orgiastic riot.

I will only mention briefly the large inflatable monkey that surfed the crowd; it hit me in the face a few times as I scribbled notes, making me look like a mirthless square. I eventually went over to the merch table and the guy asked, in an eerie kid-show squeak, if I was having fun. “I think so,” I said, praying he would be satisfied. He asked me to report back later.

As my illustrious plus-one mentioned (with amusing disdain), the songs weren’t really about anything that happened in the Harry Potter series. Well, I guess. The repertoire was strictly odes and love songs, peppered with between-tune banter about the power of rock and how Voldemort likes to “throw killing parties.” I suppose Harry and the Potters could be musical fan-fiction, existing just as much for the appetites of the fans as for those of the creators. Light-hearted and twee, like PBR marauding as butterbeer.

Speaking of which, I was surprised that the two Harrys had those telltale paper wristbands when they didn’t look a day over seventeen. What would guys like this drink, if they did at all?

I found myself wondering if the gimmick included real magic tricks, when, in a moment of beautiful serendipity, they began a pantomime about a “broken” guitar. “Anyone got a wand?” one of them asked rhetorically. Immediately a shriek rang high in the air, well over the heads of the superfans up front:”I HAVE A WAND!!!!!” And lo, a crumpled stick of tin foil transferred from the grubby hand of an eight-year-old into the hand of a Harry, and he cried out “Accio guitar!” with great elan. A woman in a unicorn costume emerged from the crowd, mounted the stage, and bestowed upon him a Steinberger outfitted with broom bristles and poorly-concealed duct tape. He beamed, pulling it around his head by its lightning-bolt strap. The crowd let forth a terrific screech.

I would say that these fellas had a real corner on the market, if it weren’t for the astounding plethora of similar acts. On the darker, more evil side of the same coin, there’s Draco and the Malfoys. Most notable characters, in fact, have their own tribute band. There’s even a “-core” devoted lovingly to these groups. That’s wizardcore, duh. Look it up. Or, if you’re captivated by trainwreck-sized spectacles, search “filk” on Wikipedia.

Regardless of this movement’s audacious silliness or girth, one must recognize that it’s clever to capitalize on a still-booming franchise. But systems be damned! Stick it to the man! This is fun, glittery, day-glo, double-frosted fun! If you think you might be too old for it, you probably are. But I applaud you for having the good sense to realize it.

Alex Edgeworth is a Denver-based writer and Reverb contributor.

More from Reverb

• The Dodos @ the Hi-Dive
• Casiotone for the Painfully Alone @ the Hi-Dive
• Born in the Flood @ the Hi-Dive

Ask Reverb To Recommend Your Posts