musicnotes
Fansons from across the globe pack downtown Tulsa during Hop Jam 2019. | TREVOR NEIMANN
The wind cries ‘MMMBop’ Tulsa newcomer examines Hanson fan culture by KATIE MOULTON
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n May 17, a 4.4 magnitude earthquake hit northwest Oklahoma, and aftershocks rippled through Tulsa all weekend. The following Monday, a severe weather system barreled through, complete with flash flooding and tornado warnings. In between, lightning and thunder flashed over the Arts District. But it was another force of nature that drove neighborhood residents to take cover in the basement: Hanson Day 2019. Tulsans are familiar with Hop Jam, the free annual music-andcraft-beer festival thrown by locally based pop band Hanson. Tulsans also likely know about Hanson Day, the multi-day, multi-venue, activity-packed festival exclusively for members of Hanson’s international fan club. Tulsans are comfortable in the amiable shadow cast by the home38 // MUSIC
town boys who not only made good but made “MMMBop,” the 1997 hit that went No. 1 in 27 countries and catapulted them to mega-stardom before Taylor’s and Zac’s voices dropped. But for those of us new to Tulsa, Hanson’s power is mysterious. Even if we can hum the tune of “MMMBop,” even if we’ve spotted them outside their 3CG label headquarters and confirmed they’re still cute (if you’re into that), the fervor of Hanson Day revelers is flat-out dumbfounding. As early as May 15, lines—mostly women in their early 30s—gathered on the sidewalk and in the alley around Hanson’s studio. How good could the merch be? What’s at the heart of this singular fandom? What keeps the Fansons coming back?
On the morning of May 18, rainclouds draped low over downtown. I walked past Mayfest booths, where artists wrapped up their canvases and pottery, giving up on foot traffic during the imminent storm. On the sidewalk near Cain’s Ballroom, people sat quietly in ponchos and camp chairs or crouched under tents and awnings. I approached three women cross-legged on the concrete, each with an umbrella pitched over her head like a one-person tent. They had driven in from Wisconsin and camped outside of Cain’s all night—since Taylor Hanson’s DJ set ended at 1:30 a.m. They pointed to their car parked nearby, packed with sleeping bags and supplies; this wasn’t their fi rst rodeo. They said “most people” are cool about respecting your place in line if you need
to go to the bathroom or buy food. I asked if they were planning to buy tickets at the door. In response they held up their arms, displaying pre-registered wristbands. This camp-out was not about getting in; it was about getting the front row. A., in her late twenties, said, “If I can get up right against the stage and watch them like this”— she rested her chin on her fist, her eyes turned up to the sky—“then I’m in heaven.” “It’s so worth it,” each of the women repeated, referring to the distance traveled, the sleep lost, the waiting, the cost. Fan club membership costs $40 a year, which includes access to online forums and early sales for Hanson shows. But each of the many Hanson Day events carries a separate price, from $15 for karaoke or the dance party to $50 June 5 – 18, 2019 // THE TULSA VOICE