Occasionally, when I’m alone, I start doing something that is both intriguing, yet highly flammable. I begin to ponder, introspect, whimsically delving into the deepest recesses of my pyschi, look out folks I’ve started to think! Most of the time it’s fairly benign, “what did I eat for lunch?”, “where am I?”, “why am I bleeding?”, you know, normal thoughts. This time my thoughts went to that glorious part of our youths, The Rock Concert. I had the radio on in the truck the other day and the station was talking about the Metallica concert over the past weekend. I didn’t know they were in town, let alone played two dates. Fifteen or so years ago I would have jumped at the chance to see them live. Granted I’m just a hair older that I was back in my metal-head banging days, but I was honestly shocked that I hadn’t heard “anything” about it till after the fact. This is what got the wheels turning.
All of a sudden we’re back, back in the wonderfully glorious days of the 70’s, with all of its weirdness. Yes, get out yo bell bottoms boys we is back. In this writer’s humble opinion the time from 1967 to 1985 was the absolute hey-day for concerts. All year long, every month, someone was coming thru town to play, be it, CSN, BTO, Allman Bros, the Airplane, ELO, Peter,Paul & Mary, Yes, Joan Baez, Zeppelin, Kiss, Uncle Ted, all 3 Kings, Elton John, The Who, lord the list is almost endless. And if you couldn’t make it to the show, the multitude of clubs all had live bands that were almost always freakin good. Ah yes, it was indeed a great time to be a young music fan. Now all one had to do was figure out who is coming where and when were tickets going on sale.
You remember “tickets” don’t you, that magical piece of paper that gained you entrance into one of the hallowed halls of music? You know, those “stubs” that you still have in a box all these years later. Alright, you know who’s coming, you know when tics will go on sale, now you have to game plan. First off you don’t just show up at Rainbow, Peaches, John’s Jean or any of the other ticket mongers when they normally open, unless you wanted to sit in the nosebleed section. Nope that ain’t gonna happen. My ticket monger of choice was Rainbow Tickets on Hillcrest. You would have to show up a couple of days early, walk across the parking lot to that shady looking tan station wagon and ask “Terry” to put you on “The List”, this was your spot in line. Better not be late. “Terry” would tell you when they would start lining up, most of the time it was the night before tics went on sale, occasionally it was a couple of days ahead, try four full days in line for Zep tickets. If you could drive will then no problem, but if you or your friend couldn’t drive, now you have to con someone’s parent into dropping you off in Dallas, on the street, at night, in the rain, hot or cold to go stand in line for hours with a crowd that must have reminded them of the Manson family. This was when we were 14-15 years old. But you know, I often jokingly say I’ve slept on more sidewalks than the average homeless person, I never saw one fight, never felt anything but safe. It was great fun and we met a lot of great people. Finally you get in the door, hand over your cash and say gimme the next best. Or if you were “working” for “Terry” you bought the limit, 4 floors and 6 balconies. Which after purchase you took outside and handed them over to “Terry”, who then gave you 1 ticket. Score!
Now on the night of the show, you do what you gotta do to get to the hall. Maybe it’s Tarrant County Conv Center, McFarlin, the Wintergarden or Dallas Conv Center. Pay your $3 bucks to park and in you go to join with your fellow music lovers for several hours of pure bliss. Grab you a t-shirt if you are so inclined, they cost $5-$8 bucks in ‘75, go find your seat which was always a thrill to see if you got good seats or not. It didn’t really matter because you were there. There was always a mountain of sound equipment on stage, not like today with the “less is more” philosophy, then it was “more is more” and then some, the band demands to be heard. And for the next 4-5 hours you soaked in the sounds, the crowd, the emotions, the smells (yes, that smell), the music of the gods of that day. You pronounced it “good”, well worth the hassles and the extraordinary ticket price of $6.50. Then, as you trudge back to your car to go home, you mused over all of the nights events, then the thought crosses your mind , hey whose in town next week! It all starts over again.
Nowadays if you want tickets you’ve got to get on the phone and speed dial like a tweaking meth head to get in and score your $175 ticket plus $85 in service fees. Oh and if you are smart, then you join the band’s $45 fan club so you can get in on early ticket pre-sales. Not the same! No friends in line, no experience required, it’s just not as fun in my opinion. Cripes once you actually get to the concert, it’s $35 to park, t-shirts are $50, you have to take out a second mortgage to get a beer.
Don’t get me wrong, today’s sound systems are infinitely better, it’s shocking to hear all the volume coming from those little speakers. Performances are more polished today, (you may insert lip-sync here if you wish), note, I didn’t say all were doing it, but we know a bunch of today’s artists are. Don’t accuse me of old man syndrome (son of a gun I used that word again) screeching about “back in my day”. Concerts goers of today will lament the cost of tickets 20 years from now, with “I remember we only had to pay $275 to see Gaga, now tickets are $1400 a shot. It’s all relative and I hope the kids now with have the same fond memories that I have of concerts. For crying out loud, you haven’t lived until you had to hit the restroom at a mid ‘70’s rock concert!
Make a JoyFul Noise,
dave