It's Live - You Can't Possibly Prepare For Everything
Part Two of Buffalo and Little Bean's Big Music Adventure
I was 18 when I saw AC/DC at Buffalo Memorial Auditorium for the band's "Flick of the Switch" tour. Somehow we managed to score tenth row seats. Two things I remember.
First, the opening band was Ratt, and they were throwing picks into the crowd and I dove under a seat to get one. Still have it.
Second, right before AC/DC came on, the crowd was getting rowdy and I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. It was a huge bald guy with tattoos all over his neck and head wearing jeans and a leather vest and covered with spiky collar and wrist band studs. He outweighed me by maybe 100 pounds.
He said, "Excuse me, but I just wanted you to know that when the band comes on, I plan on jumping over all these seats and charging the stage and I just didn't want you to be afraid when I was coming through."
"No problem," I said.
"Hey thanks man," he replied, giving me a good bump on my arm, "I really appreciate you understanding."
Sure enough, the lights went down, the crowd went nuts and I slid to my right to give the fellow plenty of room to get by and off he went. As he passed, he gave me a thumbs up.
One of the best rock and roll shows I've ever attended, a watershed moment in my youth and a core memory. I'm fairly certain, I lost about ten percent of my hearing that day, but it was worth it
It's well and proper to mark our lives by singular events. We are, after all, only what we remember. This moment for me came before I understood jazz, before girlfriends, before I wrote, before travel and sushi and mountains.
Looking back at a band like AC/DC through the jaded eyes of an adult, after symphonies and poetry and all those trappings of refinement, it's easy to dismiss. But I won't. That time was critical, remains so today, and even now when AC/DC comes on the radio, I never change the channel.
Instead I just feel the boom of those power chords in my chest, and how it felt to leap to my feet and raise my hands to the rafters of that old building that no longer exists and let the euphoria of youth wash over me, exalting in simple verses that made me feel free.
Little Bean’s first taste of hard rock was also AC/DC. And not even the later Brian Johnson years. Oh no, I went full on Bon Scott with her. She’s particularly interested in both loud and, as she calls it, “crazy music.” Enter “Whole Lotta Rosie” the song that, to this day, she insists we have dance parties to when momma isn’t home. And I will dance with her to AC/DC until my final breath.
Thinking back on this pleasant memory also made me remember all the time and energy that went into concert prep. Parking. Tickets. (How the heck did we get tickets anyway before the Internet?) What to wear. Concert merch. Those were the days when you couldn’t bring cameras or phones into the show, but you can now. YouTube is jam packed with mostly horrible fancam videos of your favorite bands.
Our show in three days on Friday is family friendly, and I’m grateful that The Warning appears to have a huge and responsible parent/child fan base. There are a lot of stories and videos of kids in the audience of their shows.
But still, she’s eight and pretty hyper. How will she deal with waiting in line, or down time between the bands. Do I sneak in some food? What about bathroom breaks, will we lose our stage space? Will there be some guy full of tattoos looking to cut in front?
For her part, Little Bean isn’t interested in any of this. In other words, she’s leaving the worrying and anxiety and infrastructure planning to me. For her, she has a special drawer where she keeps her upcoming concert swag, including her laminated passes, ear plugs and her special lightning bolt earring in honor of The Warning’s logo. (See above, she said it would be ok for me to take a picture.) She also has a bright pink The Warning hat and just in case, I picked up an actual set of noise reducing ear muffs. I may have lost most of my hearing at these shows all those years ago, but there’s no need for her to.
There’s going to be a lot happening on the day of the show, and it’s Boston so there’s everything from parking to traffic to look into.
But we’ll get by, in part because of Little Bean’s infectious enthusiasm. Her favorite sister is Dany because, she says, she likes how she flips her hair. So we’ll try to place ourselves in front of Dany.
And for the Meet and Greet, my daughter wants to build a More Box to have the band sign. Don’t know what a More Box is? Well, watch their latest video and you’ll understand - More by The Warning.
How I’m going to manage keeping track of all of this - and heaven help me if she needs to go to the bathroom in the middle of the show - I don’t quite yet know.
But like that dude who charged the stage when I was a teenager, sometimes you can’t manage everything. Sometimes stuff happens and you have to make decisions on the fly. Kind of just like live music.
We’ll go, we’ll rock out as best and as hard as we can come what may. I asked her today how she thought she was going to do. She looked at me like I was insane.
“Great daddy,” she said. In other words, don’t worry so much old man. Turn up the volume and let’s do this!
Tomorrow: Little me takes guitar lessons. It goes badly. I try to teach Little Bean to play guitar. It also goes badly.
Housekeeping: My friends, so glad you could join us on this little multi-day exploration of all things musical. This is day three. You can read the prologue and day one in the archives.
Tell me about the craziest thing that ever happened to you at a live show?
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One last thing - I encourage you all to visit the bands and artists we’re writing about. Making music is hard work. Give them some love!