The last leg of Creed’s “Summer of ’99” tour brought them to the Heritage Bank Center in Cincinnati on Aug. 24. Walking up to the stadium alongside a cool, early fall breeze, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Despite hearing Creed’s hit song “Higher” in its recent moment of revival, blasting loudly in late-night dives and fraternity functions, I really only had a cursory understanding of the band’s catalogue.
So, given the opportunity to see the band, I prepared myself by removing all expectations. The first thing I noticed upon entering the stadium was the energy. The crowd was eager and expectant. I was immersed in a sea of white goatees, big-buckled blue jeans and a wave of American patriotism spattered on graphic tees. This was not my typical scene. I took my seat to stage left and was offered a great view. I caught the last few songs of openers Mammoth and Daughtry — two metal-enthused groups reminiscent of American Idol’s glory days. The hype was building as Daughtry asked the crowd, “Are you ready for Creed?” to which the crowd responded in a rhythmic chant: “Creed! Creed! Creed!”
A massive Creed logo pulsed in the back to a dark beat as the four-piece took to the stage. Immediately, they charged into the opener of their 1999 album Human Clay, “Are You Ready?” The energy was honestly contagious. An air of pre-9/11 American optimism and aggression hung between the bark bass grooves and surging vocals. Whoever was in charge of their pyrotechnics also deserves a raise. There was clearly a solid production budget behind the band’s tour. It seemed every other song — from “What If” to “One Last Breath” — was accompanied by a meteor shower of sparks and volcanic eruptions of flames.
After a barrage of heavy choruses, singer Scott Stapp slowed the show down. He addressed the crowd personably and paid tribute to Brad Arnold from Three Doors Down in his battle with cancer. They played “Never Die,” a song dedicated to never losing one’s childlike wonder through the trials of adulthood. It was a touching moment in a show that harnessed spectacle and aggressive empowerment. Stapp himself defied his age. Dressed in tight leather and adorned in innumerable bracelets and necklaces, he maintained a boyish tenacity throughout the whole two hours or so.
In the last hurrah of the band’s encore, Creed finished with “One Last Breath.” As I looked around, I noticed the crowd — families, middle-aged hardcore fans, tattooed couples. They all gathered around each other that night in a way that felt like church.
Walking out of the stadium, I couldn’t help but feel a shared catharsis with a flourishing fanbase that I had no idea existed. So the next time you have the chance to see that band you have no clue about, go buy that ticket.