100 Concerts / Opening Act Part 1

"When people are screaming and roaring and shouting, the humbling thing is to realize it's not really for the band or artist on the stage. It's for their connection with the songs. A song just can own you...I think that's why concerts are so powerful. If that song is such a part of your life, and you hear it, it's too much almost." - Bono from the concert film U2 3-D

Some people think concerts are an excuse to get fantastically shit-faced drunk, or as a step in romancing that special someone, or as a means to kill time on a Friday night instead of hanging out in the same old bar, or as an emotionally fulfilling life-altering event more satisfying than really good sex. They are all right.

"It's just a concert" you say? Well it's not usually a spur-of-the-moment decision (though there are some exceptions, more about that another time). When you're 19 and in college, your ability to make impulsive decisions is nearly unlimited. When you're on the plus side of 40, going to a concert tends to involve planning, budgeting, and babysitters. 

MTV High-Rotation Hall Of Famers, Duran Duran

I mean, do you really go to see just anyone perform? Sure, you might have been dragged by your girlfriend to see Duran Duran or by your mom to see Englebert Humperdinck, but most likely the path of shows you have chosen to carve out indicates something unique about you, your personality, and your musical tastes (or lack thereof).

How was this man never cast as James Bond?

Just like the aging photos in the album on your bookshelf (or the ones you take with your iPhone and upload to Facebook) concerts are snapshots of your life. The shows you see and the way you behave there combine to paint a picture of you.

Who did you go to the show with? Was that the person you really wanted to go? What drugs were you on? You didn't leave them in the car, did you? Did you buy a T-shirt? Do you still own it? Do you secretly try it on sometimes when no one's looking? Which songs did you strategically use to take a bathroom break? Do you sing along really loudly with the songs you know? If so, do you ever fear that the people sitting in front of you might turn around and punch you in the larynx? Did you arrive in time to see the opening act? Did you leave early before the encore to beat traffic? Did you listen closely when the artist played some unfamiliar new music or did you use the moment to check your email on your Blackberry and make small-talk with your date? Do you feel the need to clap along clumsily to a song that has no discernible beat or rhythm? Are you the guy who screams during the ballads? Would you please stop, sir?

Deadheads are a special breed. They also make
grilled cheese sandwiches like nobody's business.

This blog is one man's reflections on more than 25 years of attending concerts. I have lived the lifestyle (as much as one can with several months between shows) but I never morphed into a full-fledged Deadhead or traveling devotee of one particular band or scene (though I might have loved it if I weren't so fond of air conditioning and showers).

I am not here to suggest that my concert experiences have been so much better than yours or that my taste in music is superior. I am here to suggest that my concert-going experiences have made a significant impression on my life and lifestyle, as much as I claim to have both.

Among my concert adventures: memorable male-bonding with high school and college friends, intense peak experiences, meeting the famous headline acts before and after shows, and the random meeting of a young woman who over a 13-year span (and many concerts) would become my girlfriend, my fiancee, my wife, the mother of my child, and then my ex-wife <no spoiler alert>.

More recent concert experiences involve my beautiful, lovely girlfriend and my older, semi-wiser perspective on the collective, unpredictable, undefinable energy event that is created by the symbiotic relationship of artist and audience. Rabid music fans like myself seek the Holy Grail out-of-body experiences to sustain us through the rat race and real-world challenges.  Sometimes 2 hours of live music can set you right for a good while.

At shows I have also had a range of profoundly emotional moments: from blissful nirvana (not the band Nirvana, I never got to see them) to the lowest points of my marriage and all the emotions in between. I even cried briefly at a Roger Waters' 2010 performance of "The Wall", I'll explain why in a future posting. Concerts have been the backdrop and the impetus of some of my life's highest highs and some of its lowest lows.

Clarence & Bruce - a legendary bromance.

I hope Pete and Roger don't die before they get old.

I have been privileged to see many legendary artists: The Who, U2, Paul McCartney, Pink Floyd, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Yes, The Allman Brothers, Rush, Billy Joel, Van Morrison, Santana, Simon & Garfunkel, R.E.M., Elton John, Eric Clapton, John Mellencamp and dozens of other all-time greats. 

I have also seen a variety of talented up-and-coming artists who flamed out far too soon (Blind Melon, Jellyfish) and many who are still building their legacies (Phish, Dave Matthews Band, Lenny Kravitz, The Black Crowes, The Avett Brothers and more).  Each of these artists, each of these shows have written their own pages in my mental scrapbook now mutating into the shape of a blog. If you've read this far you will probably relate to many of my experiences, from the thrilling to the frustrating.

When it comes to the discussion of the bands and the music itself, I hope to educate a little but this is not intended to be a definitive rock-a-pedia. These will be my own personal experiences, reflections and insights combined with some trivia, cool backstories and social commentary.

Okay, sit down, keep your lighter nearby. The show's about to start...

The light shows at a Phish concert are totally sweet, dude.