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“I’m a freak bitch, baby.”

The purple and pink lights in the dark pulsated as the hands holding them pumped the air and the heads wearing them slammed up and down. The neon amoeba sang along with Lady Gaga’s monotone statement from the song “Bad Romance”.

“I’M A FREAK BITCH, BABY!,” wailed the crowd.

Olympic Stadium was the most packed it has been since Michael Jackson performed there. We had paid around fifty dollars for our nosebleed seats, which were so high up that I felt almost removed from the glittering crowd below. Gaga and her dancers moved in unison around the stage in white, as she chanted “RA-RA-KO-REA-RA-RA-KO-REA”. The crowd went wild, stomping and clapping along. The problem with our seats was that we couldn’t actually see Gaga very well, just blurs of white courture and shiny, sweaty abs belonging to her entorouge of men. The screens set up by the castle-esque stage probably helped the concert-goers in the pit, but for us, it was like trying to watch a television that’s a half a mile away. Even worse, the camera men REFUSED to zoom in on Gaga when she spoke or sang. They would move the camera up her leg to taunt us and then zoom in on a back-up dancers face. It was very frustrating. All we had to follow was her voice and lucky for us, it was an excellent voice.

Gaga killed “Bad Romance”; it was the highlight of the concert for me. Everyone was panting by the end of the song because we’d all danced and sang the song as if we were part of the show. My friends were in such elaborate costumes, that they very well could have been on stage. Theresa wore a short pink wig to cover her long blonde locks, a neon yellow top, and had fixed her make-up to give her porcelain doll eyes. Jasmine had made cigarette sunglasses, a la the Telephone music video, and wore a hardcore jacket. Piro had recently dyed his jet black hair grey and wore blue sunglasses and a cartoonish long sleeved shirt. I, on the other hand, had started with elaborate plans and decided I just wanted to go casual. So I put on a sequined tank top, jean shorts, and black sunglasses and called myself “Lady Gaga at a baseball game.” In reality, Gaga had worn a studded bra and panties plus a bandana on her short platimun hair at the game where she had notoriously flipped off the papparazzi. But hey, I was born this way.

Gaga played mostly songs from her new album, like “Judas”, “Bloody Mary”, and “Marry the Night”. Christian churches in Korea had been actively protesting the concert because of its promotion of pornography and homsexuality, but honestly I kept feeling like I was at church during the concert. Singing lines like “dance, dance, dance, with my hands, hands, hands,…like Jesus said” and “I’m just a holy fool..I’m still in love with Judas, baby” had me feeling like I was back in Sunday school watching some awkward church play that was trying to make religion current and modern. Gaga was raised Catholic and so it seems her up-bringing has influenced many of the songs on the new album, especially “Black Jesus” where she tells Jesus to work it on the runway because “Jesus is the new black.” If these chruches want to protest anything it should be blasphemy, not pornography (Gaga wearing little clothes, constantly gyrating, and coming out of a vagina (that’s called birth, guys) and promoting homosexuality (kissing a girl on stage) which are all fine and dandy with me. The churches seem to be promoting hate, while Gaga’s show was all about promoting acceptance of others and yourself. Seems like someone should be protesting these churches, rather.

Gaga worried not only the religious, but those in the government who gave her show the 18 and up stamp. As she watched across the stage, blonde ponytail swinging, she said wickedly, “Well, I’ll MAKE my show 18 and up.” The only thing that seemed very debacherous was her over-use of the word “fuck” though. A comical moment was when she asked the crowd, “Do you give a fuck?” and after screaming so many yes’s the crowd’s reply was a mix of confused yes and no’s. The show ran about two hours and by the end of it my voice was hoarse and my temper short with the guy in front of me who kept singing “oh canada” as he took sips out of his flask. His girlfriend chugged her beer in an effort (I believe) to handle him. We stayed for awhile after the end of the show, striking poses, and smiling with the hordes of Korean girls who wanted to take photos with us (okay with Theresa). The subway station was full of people leaving the concert and all around were girls and boys in wigs, dangerously high heels, skimpy outfits, face paint, studs, and sunglasses. Lady Gaga would have been proud. We really are her little monsters.

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