Westbury, Long Island, New York. A venue that either meets and exceeds expectations, or fails spectacularly, often in the same night. Three nights in early Spring, 2014, 50 years and a few days to the day of the very first M&B 5 concert. Justin Hayward and John Lodge were still in other bands at the time, only Graeme Edge has been here since the start, but it is a milestone, worthy of the thundering ovations this comment from Graeme has elicited, each night.
The venue is conveniently located off the parkway, but one must endure traffic and congestion to get there, a the last 45 miles taking over 1.5 hours to complete. There is also only one entrance/ exit from the parking lot, which separates the brave from the shaking and weeping on exit.I am one of the brave ones, I think they are warned by the Massachusetts registration, it often works like a shield, keeping people away, and I can do a mean Massachusetts left out of the lot.
Back to the venue. Concerts in the round are great when the Band is facing you, the worst seat is only 50-60 feet from the stage, the best seats are at eye level, and in reach, if your arms are several feet long, and you wish ejection and shunning with the attempt. Not every performer can remain focused with the shifting scene, and kudos given to those that do engage with the ever changing scene. The stage is also quite small, limiting the performers area, and all are closer to each other than usual, sound board out in the open, in the pit, as is the guitar racks. One get to see the view from behind the drummers, and see how hard they really work. If you go to a concert to stare at one particular performer for 2 hours, this venue is a big let down: if you are going to hear music, and have fun, it's great.
I enjoyed pre-concert chats with all the lovely people I have met along the way, and on the way to the ladies room, I see a mural on the wall, with very familiar people on the stage, and in the audience. Given the location of my self, I can tell that this is a mural based on a concert I attended in April of 2012, since all the other shows I have attended, I had been in one of the front rows.
Really cool, isn't it?
Back to the concert, to my seat, in one of the front rows, and I will be front row center several times during the night, at eye level with the performers, not looking up at kneecaps and nose hairs, but full on. You can see wood grain on the guitars, dents on the drum heads, and all the little buttons on the keyboards. A lot of equipment along with all that talent to produce a concert, thanks to everyone involved, musicians, roadies, venue staff, and the most important part, in my opinion, the audience.
The Band must walk down a steep ramp to the stage, like at the bottom of a bowl, and there is also a domed ceiling, so it is like being in a flying saucer, which would explain some of the odd folks that showed up. The rotating begins seconds after the first notes are played, and so begins the night of ongoing anticipations. "What song will be playing when they are in front of me?" "what song will I miss?" ( One hears everything, but sometimes sees a lot more of backsides than desired)It is a bit disarming at first, being unable to focus on any one thing, as it is either coming towards you, or going away, taking about two songs per rotation, then they rotate back they other way, so that everyone gets most of every other song, face to face, and partial side view. I recall sometimes at these concerts I saw much too much of backsides, but I have gotten lucky this go round, pun intended, with more face than not.
Some band members engage the audience more than others, personality? Ability to focus while spinning? Whatever the reason, it is a unique way to see a performance, and should be seen at least once, to see if you like it. I wouldn't want every concert to be in the round, though, I must confess, these nights are blurring into one big memory. The sound is amazing, considering the shape of the room, the speakers suspended over the audience, and I never heard any reverb, or vibration. Even got to hear extra twiddly bits, as the odd musician spun past, lovely flute bits, gritty saxophone, and tapping drums. Interestingly, digital cymbals, there is a 'thwap' sound as they are hit, and then the cymbal sound is heard from the speakers, unlike the immediate rolling clash from the acoustic ones.
Stand out songs? the rockers. People are getting into the songs, groovin' and movin' in the aisles, in their seats, in the air. With the band not always facing you, who can complain if your up dancing blocking the view of a backside? Someone, most likely, somewhere, but we did have fun. Even the Band was getting into it, some doing moves that may have required icing down, or medicating later. At least taking some of the starch out of their strut, but what performances, more than I expected, much better than back in March. People standing during "Tuesday Afternoon" May 8th, similar to what was going on during the UK Tour of 2013, eliciting the same chuckle from the composer. During 'RMSS', also May 8, the original drummer got up, turned around and was waving his drumsticks in unison with the bass player and audience, leaving that bit of drumming to the young fellow.
The ballads, while lovely and well done, are better suited in the lovely old theaters, with their majestic interiors matching the soaring arrangements, at least in my opinion. But a bad show is better than no show, and these were not bad shows. There were the odd miscues, squeaked vocals and drum taps, but no one noticed, or if they did, didn't care, I like the small changes every night, makes it interesting, not that it isn't ever boring. As I finish this, I am, as well as many others, preparing for night number three.
When do the needs of the few become more important than the needs many? I am not talking about anything as profound as world hunger, the economy of the plight of oppressed peoples all over the world; I am talking about concerts, and the ongoing arguments between the standers and the sitters.
I have gone to several hundred rock, pop, classical, festival, and other concerts that defy being pigeon holed into a short description. I have had good seats, bad seats and adequate seats, in the front and in the back. I have stood, and I have been told not to stand, and I have sat when tired, and been surrounded by standers, hearing but not seeing the show.
I am a short female, and I enjoy music, and dancing, and other gyrating movements to the music. I pay for my seat, and as such, I "own" that space for the duration of the concert. On the back of some tickets, there has been disclaimers regarding loud noise, flashing lights, obstructed views, etc, and I have seen signs on entering venues regarding the use of smoke machines, laser lights and flashing lights, and that there would be expected periods of loud noises. Who, I ask, purchases a ticket to a rock concert, and then complains about flashing lights and loud noises? Plenty, it seems, given the increasing frequency of these types of warnings.
I am sure this started way back when people started to win frivolous law suits about hot coffee and subliminal messages embedded in movies and music. Taking all blame from themselves for accidents and bad behavior, and general lack of self responsibility. I understand that serious injuries and deaths do occur, but not at the levels that these warning signs seem to imply. Yes, I do remember festival seating concerts in which people were crushed, and this is still occurring a sports matches, and concerts today. But I am focusing on classic rock concerts, with the average age of the bands and the audience from 40-70.
We all age differently, with hearing and vision changes, joint disorders, and general achiness with certain motions, but we all also remember the music of our youth, and the thrills and excitement that coursed throughout our young bodies back then. Most of us still feel our souls stir and soar when a certain song begins, and at times feel compelled to jump up and gyrate as much as our bodies can, in keeping up with our spirits. Singing in the car, dancing around the house when alone, who has never done this? if you haven't, then you've been missing out on one of the best activities to do alone.
When at a concert, do the same feelings come over you? Do you feel pulled out of your seat and up into the air? Wanting to move as you did all those years ago? Many of us do, and we get up in joyous self abandon and move all our achy stiff and extra jiggly body parts in rhythm to the music. I don't complain that you are sitting down during a particularly rousing song, why should you complain that I am standing? The Band members are usually the same age or older, and they feed off of the energy in the venue, and having an entire front section made to sit down by someone several rows back, leaves a palpable energy shift in the show, the song flattens, and although still playing their hearts out to give a good show, a band can be left wondering what went wrong?
The Many reasons I have heard from the people requesting the front rows to sit are numerous, some ridiculous, some just plain selfish, and the odd delusional person making a bizarre request, but that is an entirely different story I will tell some day.
One reason People several rows behind have asked the front few rows to sit are because they are videoing the concert. No an official video, but a personal one, that may or may not make YouTube. I have videoed many songs, and have never asked someone to move, I zoom around the heads, or leave the heads in, or don't video at all, because I didn't come to the concert to video, I came to be here, to be a part of something bigger than myself.
Another reason similar, is from people photographing the concert, again, as fans, not as professionals engaged by the venue to take shots, hoping to sell or publish, no, again, just someone with a seat some distance from the stage wishing to use their zoom, or not, to capture the stars in action. Most of these shots are blurry, and unidentifiable, in the end, folks that like photographing concerts know how to get a good camera in, and sneak off shots, I know, I have learned how from masters at this, way back in the days of film, with reloading done in the dark, hunched over, speedily, to not miss anything.
People also complain about the front of the house having better seats because they paid more, which is unfair to those who cant or wont pay that price. That argument always turns political, and someone walks away with an elevated blood pressure. You get what you pay for, an oldie but a goodie, and tha'ts that. There is no unfairness at all in making a choice, you choose to be there, or not. You choose what price you wish to pay, and you choose to accept the seats offered you at that price. You wer not ripped out of a front row seat and forced to sit in the balcony, please do not whine and call me names when I refuse to give you my seat because you asked. And yes, this has happened to me many times, mostly in the past two years.
Yes, I understand that some people have mobility limitations, but because you can not dance, don't ask others to sit with you in solidarity. I have many friends with life shortening illnesses, that dance at concerts until something dislocates, or swells beyond recognition, and they are smiling all the time, perfectly aware of the length of time they will need to recover, but dance away they do.
So, claim your seat, and dance away, physically, or mentally, and don't complain about those in the other seats, dancing, singing, and having fun. Don't complain about not getting the seat you wanted, the music is the same, I promise. If you are hearing a muddy mix, think first about your hearing, and your seat, not the sound person, they worked hard to get it right, sometimes the venues can't support the sounds generated by this band. Generally, let's all have fun, don't take out your disappointment on the other patrons, our fun was not planned to ruin yours, don't ruin ours.
Friday June 14, 2013
Sheffield, England
Concert.
The concert was held in the City Hall, a big quarried stone building with columns out front, and some great people milling around in the lobby.
The obligatory greetings, and introductions were done, each of us with our funny accents, and off we go to find our seats. As is the new custom in most venues I have noted recently, we were not allowed in to the theatre itself until 30 minutes before show time. I was never asked to show my ticket once we had entered the venue, and I went directly to my seat, no pesty security guard or ushers requesting me to show them proof that this was actually my seat. perhaps there was no one there to provoke such behavior?
I had a seat that could induce a case of the vapors in some fans, and has been known to cause others to go apoplectic.I did neither, I was loaded up with cough suppressants to prevent a certain someone from thinking I was contagious, but he coughed and sniffled throughout the concert, even dribbled water out his mouth, and was so close to the edge of the stage, that I probably caught his cold. Or some of the dribble.
The stage was low and the microphones were close to the edge. So low was the stage, that standing at it, it was below my bosoms, so that my eyes were looking slightly above knee cap level, if I looked straight on, so I looked up.Oh my, there was a set of sparking eyes looking back at me. oh my again. I got weepy as the concert started, having been so ill the last time I saw any of these people. I had truly thought I was dying, and as it turned out, I was in danger of death, that I had come to terms with never seeing them again. So, even though I now knew I am not in danger of impending death, and had spent the past 24 hours travelling to get to this place, I still got a tiny bit moist eyed. I hope they were glad to see me, too, if rock stars held any affection for a fan.
The set list was the usual, without any surprises.
Stand Out songs were
You and Me, with extra twiddly bits of guitar and a very pleased guitarist.
Say it With Love, no chest baring, but there was a brief attempt at collar adjustment.
Nervous, beautiful
NIWS he did himself proud
IJAS exciting.
They played a technically fabulous show, were very smiley and bouncy the entire time, didn't appear to tire or falter at all, well done.
Nottingham Saturday June 15, 2012
The City is a hilly lovely place. It was a wild Saturday in Nottingham, naughty weekends for a lot of folks. We had a stag party arrive, with the groom dressed as Sponge Bob Square Pants, and we also saw a clump of seamen.
We ate Indian food a few hours prior to the concert, and then hoped everyone else did, also so no one would notice.
Our hotel was a short distance away from the venue, and we braced ourselves against the ice cold chilly June wind and set off for tonights adventure in music. The venue had more than one event going on, and there were multiple announcements instructing everyone to go to what door for what event. The audience was the usual mix of males and females, mature and polite.
Inside, the venue was that continental seating without a center aisle that I dislike so much. Once seated, one must disrupt several dozen people if one needs to leave ones seat, and that is not fun, if it is your toes being stepped upon. My seat was in the third row. pesky microphone in the center again, spoiling a bit of my view. The Stage was again, low, 4 feet, small, so that there was not a lot of space between the players, and the microphones were right up front, less than 2 feet from the edge of the stage.
Nothing new in the set list department, but then, iwasnt expecting anything new, and I've become quite fond of several of the older songs. They came out, hit their marks, and started out well. Both lead singers sang the same verses at the same time to Gemini Dream, which was lovely, but I do like it when its out of sync. All of the people on stage were well lit, and looked beautiful, and the appeared to know some people in the audience base on their waving and smiling, winking and there was a blown kiss at one point, but I won't mention which bass player blew it to which continental fan. I could see the blueness in the guitar players eyes for most of the concert, they were open wide, and looking out at the audience, sometimes I even looked back. This concert was better than Sheffield, it had a bit more heart in it.
Stand out songs
You and Me
more guitar twiddly bits and someone was quite pleased when he was finished.
Nervous
Every note sung was heartwrenching and poignant, very emotional tonight
IKYOTS
The lost verse is still found, I do wish that they could put in both verses.
Driftwood
lovely
IJAS
Woo woo woo someone was making a lot of woo noises up on stage, while winking at the ladies, and playing a hot bass line, while the guitar player actually kicked his right leg during some of the woo's. wow. who knew they had it in them? I did, but I am not telling.
NIWS
Very personal tonight, eyes open when he sang at the audience, not at the ceiling.
Question
sounded louder and faster to me, or maybe my ears finally popped.
RMSS
Some older folks let go of their Zimmer Frames and really rocked out.
The audience was very appreciative. The usual suspects were up after every song to clap, and we were joined in by others as the concert rolled along, culmimating in a group stand for Question and RMSS. But I can name almost evryone who was up for IKYOTS and IJAS, and so can the Band.
The lead singer introduced the Backups, and told the audience that he refused to give the junior drummer back.
Great loud cheers for all 4, and they took their group bow at the end, followed by the Big 3. Very well done. I could do this almost every night.
Not a review of a cruise or a certain Rock Band, but my own personal experience of these particular few days.
The Nightmare Begins
I had been shoved fairly violently the night before, at a concert, not deliberately, I hoped, but still, painful. The pain started in my upper abdomen, then began to throb and ping and sting and stab in my lower left abdomen. I kept quiet, not wanting to ruin, or invade the happiness of my traveling partners, but I really hurt. Pain pills did nothing for this pain, I was hoping it was gas, or something I ate, and I tried to sleep that night. I felt like crying. I wanted to cry. I cried silently.
I woke up Friday morning, Jamaica out my window. We folded up my bed back into a sofa, and opened our balcony doors. The water was a lovely blue, the ship was smooth, and we looked forward to our day. My travel partners had opted for what they thought was a benign day of sight seeing, I had spent a lot of money to be thrown from trees, yes, I decided to do the Zip Line. I figured I was about to turn 50, and how often does one get to the Jamaican Jungle? I was feeling weak, and still had that odd belly pain, but toughed it out, I am old, fat and out of shape, what's an odd belly ache, I probably just needed to eat better.
I watched the passengers disembark, and walk the long pier to the shore, as my excursion was for later in the day. It was a lovely view until I used the telephoto lense, and saw that beyond the port, and the resorts, the city was unattractive, and run down. I go to the appointed meeting point, feeling a bit light headed, and short of breath, attributed to the humid weather, and follow instructions. Get on this bus, no this one, no this one, hand over this ticket, no, the wrong ones take this back, etc, as our guide and bus driver decided how to run this excursion. Not the most reassuring start. We then drive through town, into the suburbs, and past the resorts, into the local area, given a narrative of the area. We learn that all the overgrown areas used to be plantations worked by slaves, and that they are now overgrown fields, no longer in sugar cane production. Or any agricultural use. We see a lot of goats grazing in these fields, and people on the sides of the roads selling fish and fruit. Then we go off road. The bus teeters and tosses us about, the gears grind, and we go up hill, on a barely paved road. We are informed that the government refuses to pave the roads unless there is an election pending. And there is no election pending I vote for paving. The air continues to press in on us opressively, despite the thick green leafy canopy overhead, and with a final expensive sounding grind to the gears, we stop. Our bus is on an incline, requiring an uphill climb to step out.
We now are informed that we must remove all our hats and glasses, have shod feet, and lock all belongings, including cameras into paid lockers. One of our party purchased a locker, and graciously allowed as many of us as could fit our belongings into the locker. Thank you.
The young, fit, beautiful Jamaican boys and girls assigned to assist in throwing us from trees present themselves to us, and we begin to gear up, with harnesses, ropes and metal hooks strapped to our torsos, helmuts secured to our heads, and gloves, thick leather gloves, given to all. As we each one of us get fitted and kitted out, we see the previous group limp in. They are smiling, but limping, tell us that it was fun, while surruptitiously looking at each other, and limp onwards, to doff their gear. We also smell lovely barbeque,Jamaican Jerk chicken being grilled up nearby, and my stomach lurches, not a good sign, as I usually love barbeque.
I am heartened, that limpers can do this, as I am a limper, having taken my anti inflammatory and analgesic medications, and ulcer meds prior to beginning this adventure, I have no worries about completing this event, as it was not rated as being of a high exertion level in the cruise guide. And our group, being of an age of not quite sprite, also perked up, seeing the survivors saunter back to headquarters.
We are now told that we are to take our kitted out, jangling and roped selves to another transport vehicle, and open sided transport jeep. Wow, the seats are hot, the metal handles are hot, and we smoosh in very close together, very well loaded vehicle, and begin to go further up the side of this mountain. The poorly paved roads give way to non paved pitted and rutted mud paths that our gear screeching vehicle bumps up, over and around. The lovely Jamaicans hold on to the sides, and we passengers moan, ohh and ahh, and occasionally squeal in shock as the vehicle tosses us around, bumping our thankfully helmutted heads on the hot metal supports, we slide into each other on the hot vinyl not very well upholstered or padded benches, and are amazed that this is even a road. The Jamaicans laugh, we don't. The vehicle never slows, and we go at such a steep angle that midwesterners begin to pray. At times we lurched from side to side so quickly and sharply, that being on two wheels briefly is not an exaggeration. And then we stop. Dead silence, and perhaps a whispered curse word, or prayer is heard. We are at the top of the Mountain.
We walk a bit on the rutted pathway, to a cabana, with a sign warning us that if we need to relieve ourselves, we should have done it down below. Nice to know. We are given a very brief rundown on the and use of our equiptment, and how to brake and not spin around, and off we go. So, where are the platforms? we go down some wooden stairs cut into the side of the mountain. My bad right knee goes sour fast, overwhelming the pain meds I had taken earlier in the day as preparation for strain, for the low exertion level activity I had signed up for, and we continue downwards. I attempt to bypass the widely spaced and steep steps, to try the pathway next to the steps, and I slide several feet downwards, screaming pain in bothKnees, and the now familiar yet funny belly pain quickly increasing in intensity, from the accidental, I hope, shove, I had received the night before. So I continue going down the stairs right leg first, to spare my now clicking and grinding right knee, and my left screaming hip and thigh, and the buzzing (?) yes buzzing pain in my lower left belly.
And we continue down wards. I lose sight of the group in front of me, but hear grunting behind me, a hearwarming grunt of someone else's pain, I was not alone, left behind in the jungle. And on wards, and downwards I continue, now with palpitations, and an itch developing in places I was unable to scratch.
We (I) finally arrive at the first of 9 platforms. and one by one, our safety lines are secured, and we shuffle out onto a ricketly appearing platform. This platform looks so cobbled together, that a scout master would ask the troup to try to rebuild it safely. I talk myself into believing that we are safe, that these lovely smiling Jamaicans would not risk our safety with shodily constructed platforms. I don't believe a word I say. It is now my turn, I am hooked to the line, and told to "GO Go." So, I GO. Wheeeeeeeeee this was fun, no fear once the initial jump is made, feeling very secure in my harness, holding on to the line as so very briefly instructed soo long ago, and the so short zip is over, I lift my legs to land on the platform, and into the arms of a smiling, handsome young man. Probably one of the last times I will ever have someone that handsome at least pretend to look happy to hug me. And I am unhooked, spun around, rehooked to another safety line, while standing on a platform attached to a few trees, with a grate like surface, I can see below, and there is no forest floor visible. The platform is less than 2 feet wide, and we are hustled, and shuffled along to the next zip. I see that this one is a bit longer than the first, and I jump off with glee. And zip along. Very fast, I can hear the pulleys singing on the line above me, and I see the smile on the handsome young man at the receiving end fade, and he yells "brake brake." So, as instructed, I lift my right arm, and grab the line, and stop. Mid line. I was supposed to slow down, but I came to a dead stop. Dead stop. Mid line. No visible forest floor below me. And everyone on the excusion looking at me.
I lift my arms up, as instructed, and try to pull myslef along the line to the platform, but my arms begin to tremor. I am not nervous, this is some weird muscle twitch, and my hands go numb. I continue to try to pull myself, but I keep going the wrong way, further from the platform. "I need a rescue" I call out, and the no longer smiling, not overly glad to see me handsome young man zips to me, unhooks me( zowza) and pulls me to safety. The unhooking before my feet were firmly on the rickety platform was the most unnerving aspect of this event. I was not anxious at all, and felt a calming wave wash over me, as I surrendered to the event. I was able to bury the horrific pain in my stomach and lower abdomen, the right knee screams, the left thigh muscle twitches, and the now numb hands into some deep part of my brain, where I can deal with all this at a later time, as these symptoms are now frightening me more than the zip line. I know that there is no way out of this but to go onwards, and since the heights and danger of this zip line are the least frightening aspects of my current situation, I segment my mind, and bring up a happy place, and continue. Our next zip is straight down, and was my favorite.
We continue for a few more zips ,then the stairs resume. My muscles are on fire, the numbness in my hands now goes to my feet, and I can't even feel the surfaces below me. I twist and skid a few times, stumbling, but never falling, and the pain in my belly worsens, with a funny vibrating buzzing feel, and I feel weak, and in the one part of my brain not segmented off into either my happy place, or the suppressed suffering and horrified place, I make a mental memo to make that appointment with my doctor, as I think my issues go way past needing antidepressants and exercise. I continue on, downwards. The zips get easier, more exhilarating, and I am very proud of myself for doing this. The platforms are smaller, more rickety, and we are hustled along, no time to stop, unhooked from one line, spun around, hooked to the next and told to GO GO! and we go.
Finally, we come to the end, and it was my favorite zip of all. Not because it was over, but because it was long and swooping, and I was able to lift my legs and land on the 3 x 3 foot wooden box without needing rescue (that was only once because they told me to brake) and without seeing the horrified look on the Lovely Jamaican's face as I came booming along.
Now, we are told we walk back to the rendezvous place, where we began. I remembered the faces of the previous group, and off I go, limping along, trying not to succumb to my pains, and look weak. We go onwards, and downwards some more, remembering the long climb upwards we had done in that jeep, over the non roads and ruts, and I see the path we are taking is similar in texture. Dodging puddles, mud slicks and rocks, we OOH and AHH over the 20-30 foot bamboo thickets, and the 10 foot high plants that I have tried growing at home as a house plant; plants that gave up life after achieving 6 inch height. And we keep going. We reach a lovely lawn, and some shack like outbuildings, we have arrived! No, we haven't. We keep going on, and my limp worsens. The pain in my right knee is fading, as my left thigh and left lower abdomen take over, leaving me without a leg to stand on, and me feet feel like they are swelling in my shoes, my hands are swollen, and I have an itch all over. And we keep walking. Finally we reach the starting/ ending point, and the four steps I need to climb to reach the taking off our gear place is the hardest four steps I had done all day, and after three hundred steps down, and a mile walk through the jungle, that is an obstacle I can not over come, so I have no memory of how I made it up those steps, but somehow I must have, as I am not wearing any rope and pully gear, or a helmut and work gloves. I am so shakey, and in so much pain, that the barbeque jerk chicken has no appeal to me, I get myself a soda, and go to the gift shop, purchace a CD of pictures that I still can not find, and, after finding the very nice people who allowed me to share their locker, I collect my glasses, camera, passport, etc, and find my bus, try notto squeak or cry out with pain as I climb those steps, and I sit.
A bumpy ride several miles back, with out guide again pointing out overgrown fields, and singing Harry Belafonte songs, we finally arrive back at the port, and I see our ship. I have to walk that long dockway back, and I have no recourse but to do it. I do not see the wheelchairs I had seen earlier in the day, for hire, and I am stubborn, and I fight with myself to keep going. I feel terrible, my hands and feet are swollen and numb and tingling, my abdomen is giving me sharp pains, all my muscles are twitching and sore ; I can barely walk, but I keep going. Don't want anyone saying I gave up, don't want to embarrass myself by fainting and collapsing, but that is how I felt, light headed, and just wanting to go home. My real home. I felt in a dream state and was wishing myself instant transport home, or to wake up from this nightmare. I really did have fun, but every moment of pleasure had another element of severe pain and the pain was taking over. I show my bag to the inspectors at the ship, they beep me back on board, and I make my way to the cabin, again, I have no memory of doing this, must have been on auto pilot.
I am supressing tears, and I arrive at my room. My travel mates tell me their tale, and will tell it to you if you ask nicely. Maybe. I change my clothes, apply Gold Bond powder to the rash I acquired somewhere 30 feet over the Jamaican Jungle, and take one of each of my pain pills. Actually I carry them up to the cafe, where I take them, with a large amount of juice to hydrate and replace the electrolytes I lost during the day, and we go hear the end of the Zombies Concert, as, once again, I miss something on the cruise that I had looked so forward to hearing.
I would like to thank all the people who extended me a kindness during my recent health crisis. As many know, I spend a large portion of my recreational time in pursuit of the perfect concert. I developed symptoms while away enjoying this activity, and am still recovering.
It began with my feeling very tired all winter, unable to work as much overtime as I wanted, I was just unable to function after several hours awake every day, and had trouble getting out of the car, and climbing a half flight of stairs to get home at the end of the day. I was sleeping 9-10 hours a night, and felt depressed. I tried vitamins, and exercise, and only felt worse as the days continued. I had seen a few hints on my eventually diagnosed condition, but had been assured that I was being an alarmist, and that my pain complaints were out of proportion with the problem, that I was having cramps of the female type.
So, I pack my bags, consulting with my friends, and off I go, on a new adventure. I had never been a fan of cruises, but not having been on one, I was slightly less closed minded than I pretended to be. I didn't see the point of going in a big circle, and staying in a small room night after night. Now having done a cruise, I still don't see the point, I have been told I am missing the point. The room was small, and this was the deluxe balcony room, and there is not enough room for everything, and we are very experienced packers, and have all been in European hotel rooms, so it was not culture shock. And what is the point of all the food? You can't eat everything, and yes the offerings were vast, but after the second night, redundant. I chose and ate my favorites, never went hungry, or overstuffed, but a remarkable display is just a pretty sight, like the food halls at Harrods. Not 5 star by any stretch, and for the amount of money my companions and I spent, we could have stayed at a 5 star resort, in a glamorous locale, and dined well, and had concert package seats, and left over cash, for the same amount of time. Many people complained about the pricing, but as long-term concert chasers, we can say that this is how much it costs to travel well. We were less upset with the price than with the accommodations.
It was pleasant to see friends and distant acquaintances, to greet, hug and kiss all the nice people I have met along the way, and it was not nice to see people who made faces, wrinkled and turned up their noses, or pointed and whispered when they saw someone not on their friend list. I was surprised by all the people who greeted me, stating that they knew me by my picture. I must have missed that email, I didn't get any passenger identification photo memo. But as Happy as I was to be present, I was missing that fire in my blood, that burning and tingling feeling I get when living a Rock Tour. I initially thought it was because this was an unusual situation, but my spirit was willing, my flesh was growing weaker. I secretly made a note to myself to see my doctor when I returned home, for some antidepressants, as I felt sure my problem was chemical. I was on a cruise, so many friends and family had been condemning my European Vacations, telling me that the Caribbean was the place to go, that I had been going on the wrong vacations. I am not one to follow convention, nor do I adhere to trends, perhaps I was avoiding cruises to be oppositional, and I was not having fun just to be difficult. But I was having fun, why did I feel so poorly?
I would like to add that my special cruise luggage tag was laminated and attached to my suitcase with several staples, dropped off at the assigned spot next to the ship, along side my room mates cases, also with stapled tags, yet, when we went to our rooms, my bag was not delivered. It did not arrive until late that night, and without its tag. How fortunate that I did not need anything that had been packed in this particular bag. One of several small unrelated events that occurred during the cruise.
I was so weak and tired, I missed several of the concerts I had so hoped to attend. I spent much of the cruise plopped in a seat, observing, conversing, and listening. That first full day, we sat down near the stage, waiting for the Band to appear for a Q&A. There were several folks already in place, we found a great seat, and staked out our claim. As the time neared, and as we suffered through the extremely egotistical chef honk his own horn a bit too much, more people arrived. A few of our friends came by, and found seats on their own near us, but it was the total strangers, whose rudeness stands out. I was sitting on the bench surrounding the pool. The pool in front of the stage was covered for the cruise, as a dance space, but was fenced off at this time as they were painting the logo on the floor, so this entire area was unavailable. Poor timing, in my mind, for such a big event. Well, a lady of advancing years, typical for this Band, came by. She was not very nimble limbed, nor was she petite, neither of which made her unusual in this crowd. She asked us to move so she could climb over our bench, we suggested she try the stairs 10 feet away, and she then told us she was sitting here, and plopped her very non petite bottom where two of us had been sitting for 2 hours, in the sun. We politely pointed out that we were already here, and she really needed to find herself another seat, and she told us she wasn't taking up too much room. Now her one behind was taking up more room than the two of us together, neither of us famous for having bony butts, and we pushed back, she really did not want to take no for an answer. Her voice got higher pitched, and more fake sickly sweet, but we didn't fall for it, and she finally moved. I think she did finally curse us, also, but we had been there for two hours, had towels to sit on, water bottles, we were dug in good. I am no amateur. I turned and said to my other travel partner, the one not getting butt checked out of her seat, "and so it begins."
Sal, the interviewer, and our cruise MC, was a weasel. Not only were the questions irrelevant, and redundant, even the Band looked bored. Please do not paint them as disinterested, ask questions they may want to answer. Sal the weasel also constantly told everyone that he was a fan of the band and a great friend of theirs, which raised eyebrows by said Band more than once. He also needed to tell the audience that he was older than he looked, before and after every other question. He was on my list of people not to invite back, there are other DJ's out there more versed in the Band's history, and who are true fans of the genre and period, better than this weasel.
We had our concert that night. A surprisingly large amount of people were able to attend both shows, and managed to complain anyway. We had very nice seats near the front, but when the gentleman in front of me sat in his seat, it gave way, and he landed in my lap. So, that seat went empty for the night, giving me an unobstructed view, except whenever someone tried to sit in it, so most of my concert consisted of a head, and a security guard shooing the head, and the rest of the body, away. And across the aisle from me was another empty seat, one in which the security guard initially monitoring the area allowed someone to sit, never checking her tag for seating assignment. Meanwhile, twice before the concert started, other security guards were sent to my seat, asking me to show my credentials, my seat assignment, one guard even tried to tell me I didn’t belong there, until I pointed out that my seat number matched my tag. This has been happening to me on a very frequent basis at all these concerts, almost as if someone was telling security to check me out, pointing me out specifically. I was very polite, I looked around, wondering who thought my seat might have or should have belonged to them. We were asked by a few folks how we got these seats. We got them the usual way. How did you get yours? I wanted to ask, but I was ever so polite.
The seat across the aisle? A very enthusiastic lady manages to stay there for much of the show, bothered the folks behind her, as they felt they paid to sit there, and she didn't. I will never condemn anyone for dancing to any song at a concert, but do it in your own seat. And the people complaining were more disruptive than the dancing. Now, good manners in concerts dictates that when confronted by security, and asked to leave the seat you didn't pay for, you do the walk of shame, and slink back to row L Hell, or worse. But she was relentless, and declined to show her tag, or leave the first few times she was asked, She had to go back to her room and get her tag, to be let back in, making me wonder how she got in at all, as I had to show my tag several times, even when I was talking to Band Staff. I was doing nothing wrong, so I wasn't upset until I saw all the tags on folks from the previous seating in this concert. At the end of the concert, I was shoved quite hard while I was standing up, applauding, so hard in fact, that I got knocked into the broken seat, and spun around, bumping the gentleman in front of me, I apologized, he said no no, you were pushed, and he helped get me right side up again. Well, several of the people that ended up in front of the folks in the front row, had the other tags on, a few were from this night’s show. It was not the peace loving aging hippy crowd that some were professing, it was more a contact sport. And in my incredibly weakening state, I was losing, and I wasn't even in the competition. I even saw one person passed out, with a bit of moisture out the side of their mouth head bobbing down into their chest during the show. Why was I looking around? Because of the empty seats next to, and in front of me. From the second half onwards, there was an ongoing parade of people trying to sit in either or both seats, with the increasingly ineffective security hustling them away. Very disruptive, and the Band noticed. The Show lost a bit of heart with all these antics. I felt bad for the Band, me, and all the fans out in the audience who had no idea what was going on. I did not feel for the ones who were disruptive, rude, pushy and ill mannered in general. We all paid money to be there, some more than others, but it was voluntary, no one held any guns to any heads forcing them to spend the higher amounts, there was a choice.
Another event was the VIP reception, where we were informed that we were to meet and mingle with the other VIP's, and the Band was to make an appearance. This was changed from the first early advertisements promising a reception with the Band, and it was a victim of its own popularity. Nowhere did I see official reference to any sort of meet and greet, autographs or photo ops. Nor did I infer this from the description. But many did, and ran with it, planning out conversations, presentations, and other assorted fantasies of what they wanted to happen. I have been along with this Band for many years, and while I say never say never with them, I was fairly sure there would be no contact with the Talent. The line formed up for entry, and we all had our tags checked, though some were seen in the line who didn’t have the correct tags. As it happened, Sal the Weasel was there, and no Band, they cancelled. We were asked who went to the most concerts. I know who has been to more than me, and they weren't there, so I won. Not that I was competing. It is just a fact. There was the usual grumbling from the same people. Hey, it is not like I knocked anyone over the head and stole their tickets, or spent disability funds, or child support, or didn't pay my bills to be there. Or lied about how many shows I have been to, like some have. Because I have been to over 300 shows, and many of my friends have been to almost that many, or more, we know who has been there, and who has not. Yes we do indeed. Well, Sal the weasel had a few people tell their stories, one lady said she just discovered the Band, went to one concert, and wanted to know if they had her gift, thanking them for over 40 years of music. That math doesn't add up, how can you thank someone for something you had no part in? And, shocker, she wants to start a petition to place them in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Did she not listen to them say it doesn't matter? More than once? Sal the Weasel didn't, kept at it until I was embarrassed for him, and I didn't like him. Hint, if you want to be a hard core fan, invest some time in exploring the Band's history before spouting off, makes you look ridiculous. And so ended our VIP reception, which I spent mingling with the few VIP's I enjoy spending time with, even when we are common folk, on land, at concerts, or on trains playing with red balloons.
Sunday March 17, 2013
Another year, another concert. This was my first of the year, the eighth of the Tour, and the year, and the last of the continental concerts this Spring Tour. Shockingly to some, and to the pleasure of others, I had not attended any of the first seven shows. There are those out there, somewhere, who were pleased to point out to me how happy the Band was, to not have me in the audience, but since these people are not the Band, nor were they in that particular audience, and lastly, I am fairly confident that their so called "reliable source" is one of the voices in their head, I am not ruffled by these remarks.
My reliable sources, folks who were there, including people both on, behind and in front of the actual stage, gave me a different report, and I was welcomed warmly back into the fold. The bond we share while on the road, a specialness that divides up from the others, had not been severed during our time apart. There is an enormous difference between "traveling" fans, and people who have traveled to shows, and do not confuse the two, I will get imperious. And looking like a tourist isn't all that bad, when you are actually a tourist.
So off we go to the show, being polite and friendly with people we see, friends, distant acquaintances, and people we have run into along our many jaunts and journeys.
I remember again why I had been reluctant to return to Florida last year.The arriving cars are jostling for the coveted handicapped spaces, of which there are many, and all filled. Aging hippies are not all aging in the same way, and assisstive devices abound. The Children of the Sixties, have reached and passed their 60's, not all in the same way. The Generation that chanted to never trust anyone over the age of 30 have passed that milestone twice over. But still willing to subject themselves to a night of fun. So, limping, shuffling, wheeling and rolling, we all got to the venue. I joined in with the limpers.
Many people paid large sums of money to sponsor the venue, they were evident, many others were wearing tags signifying that they had paid large sums of money to have a photo op with the Band, they were evident, also. I did pay for either, I was just there. There was some confusion as to where to sit, as many expected that their large sums of money got them the front, but alas, in not reading the ticket correctly, or the seating chart, they were shuffled to the sixth row of the pit, which was actully second row. A parameter clearly stated in the photo op description, but apparently when one spends large sums of meny, one doesn't read, one complains, and disrupts, and bothers others already seated. Oh, well.
So the show starts. Energetic, enthusiatic, smiles all around, but each song faded a bit towards its end. The crowd was older,the correct generation, and the show started early enough to not be past too many peoples bed times, but the energy was not there. perhaps being unburdened of large sums of money wearied them out, the Band certainly was trying very hard. As I often say, if you want a better concert, be a better audience. I can name the two people who were on their feet for IKYOTS, before the whole audience got into it, and these same two ladies stayed up for TSIYE, and again for YWD, and H&H, and IJAS, and one of the names was mine, the other was a Canadian. Despite reports to the contrary. I have reliable sources, also, and their names can be read on various CD packages, and Tour Programs, if one knows where to look. I will say that there were a few others up sporatically, but not in the manner once can expect from me.
Playing air guitar during a concert does not mean you played guitar with the lead singer.
Talking to the Stage does not mean you had a converation with the lead singer.
Security is there for a reason, no one is exempt, well practically no one.
Your ticket to the show entitles you to just that, a show.
The Band is the only authority as to whom is the best fan, if there were to be such an outrageous award.
As to the concert, there was no other side of life, and the mystery verse to IKYOTS was in, and we also drifted wood, did not sit comfortably.
The lights were outstanding, great backdrop with a neat selection of photos from the remote past.
I have seen better shows in the past year, and have seen worse, this one was good, not great, I am glad I was there.
2012 My Year in Review
I began 2012 knowing I was going to go to several concerts, in March and April. We had actually purchased some seats while at the last event, Canterbury Cathedral, while sitting on beds, and that particular event, we had purchased the tickets while in bed in Canada during the previous Tour. All one ongoing and continuous process, jumping from place to place, event to event.
Even with all the planning, we never finish the Tour, the week, even the day, without the amazement at the way things turn out.
I am ending 2012, having just concluded a late Fall/Early Winter Tour, that was not even on the planning horizon, one year ago, and wonder where I will be in one year.
I had a fair idea of where we were going, what we would be doing, where we would be staying, and the actuality was far more wondrous and spectacular. I will keep doing this as long as I have the opportunity. We keep planning for the End, and it keeps just out of our reach, which is fine, we will keep on going. We will stop when they stop. Lucky them, lucky us.
I went to 27 Moody Blues Concerts in 2012
I saw shows in 4 time zones, central, eastern, mountain and pacific. But all in one country, the USA.
27 concerts in 21 venues, 14 states. 15 in venues I had seen shows in previously, 12 new venues. 11 front row seats. Drove to 4 shows after working the day, to 3 different states than the one I lived in.
I flew 4 airplane segments, 4 airports, stayed in 13 hotels. 35 nights in hotels or away from home. Used 3 personal cars, one rental car. Drove almost 5000 miles, flew over 6000 miles.
South Carolina, Tennessee, Mississippi, Georgia, New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Maryland, Arizona, California, Nevada. New York included Long Island and upstate, and the Canadian border.
Drove through North Carolina, Alabama, Delaware along the way.
Ate at Waffle House, Cracker Barrel, and various local diners and dives. I had chinese, mexican, New York deli, and southern cuisine. I did the occasional rinsing of clothing in hotel bathroom sinks. I even went shopping at various Malls around the country, and we know how much I am not a shopper.
So, to anyone who thought this all looked easy; this is what it takes.
Hundreds of hours on conference calls, emails, texts and instant messages. All while planning at least two future tours. So, when you stop and ask us how we do it, and we give you a blank stare, we are not being completely rude, we just have no single simple answer. And if we did, you are still not getting one.
Concert going is not a competition sport. I provide these statistics to show how hard we worked, how much pleasure we derived from our accomplishments. Some people may have gone to more, I doubt it, about the same amounts, from the faces I've seen. Some people traveled further, and some didn't have to travel very far at all. Some people paid more for their tickets than me, some paid less. Concert going is not about getting the front row every time, but getting one is great, do not get me wrong, but any seat is better than no seat, I am not staying home just because I do not have a ticket.
Concert going is also not a contact sport, but I got smacked upside my head at one show, and read about it on line, from someone who claimed they were the smacked one. I read another report from someone claiming to be sitting in the seat I was occupying, and adding a disclaimer that if someone else wrote that they were in that seat, they were lying. I read reports that were the opposite of my experience, that is fine, if you liked a show I didn't, or didn't like a show I did, neither one of us is wrong, just had different experiences, and I accept that, I am not calling anyone a LIAR. But I have been called one. I have met some fabulous people, and some not so fabulous people, and a few real lunatics. OK, mostly lunatics. I have been asked if this was my first concert, (no), have I ever met the Band, (yes) do they know me? Do they ever stop and talk to me? (yes and sometimes). My concert ticket buys me just that, time in a space, to enjoy a live performance. The Band owes me no more than that. No autographs, no recognition from the stage, no invasion of their private times. I am an integral part of the touring process, I am the audience. I play my part during the shows, they play their parts, and off stage, we go our separate ways, all as regular people. No expectations.
I have seen people run up to their bus, block it to prevent it leaving, and seen people try to get into their bus. I saw their bus drive right past one car that was covered with writing all over the windows about this Band. The bus honked, the person in the car was oblivious to the fact that their adored Band passed them right by on the highway, maybe the closest that person got to them that night. And no, I wasn't following the bus, it passed us by, and went on to the venue, saw them getting off, wasn't too hard to figure out who they were by then.
I have seen people try to touch or grab at their person while they are on stage. So not good, can cause injury. I have seen people's delusions pop during the concert, when the reality of the Band not being 25 years old hits, and hits hard.
