Saturday, June 10, 2023

I Was There

 

It was the summer of 69 and if everyone who ‘said’ they were there, there would have been no one else to talk about. Don’t know why being in the audience is so special as we wear it like a badge or long hair. It became an icon of a generation (real or tie-dyed).

Everyone says they were at the stage close enough to see Grace Slick’s nipples or sprayed upon by Jimi Hendrix’s sweat. No one talks about the long lines, the wet grass, the annoying folks mouthing off while Joni Mitchell whispered about shotguns in the sky, the smell, eating questionable over-priced ‘food’ prepared in some roach coach that have now become so popular, becoming bored, sleeping through the best act, going home with a strange itch, having to hitch hike home because you lost your car or when someone else brings up a moment you can’t remember because either you were not there or you were too stoned.

Today everyone wants to take selfies as proof of attendance and who you were with (unless Photoshopped) but back then no one took photos because they couldn’t afford a camera or lost a lens or didn’t want the evidence of being that hairy. See me. I’m in there. Seat 204.

I guess the experience of being in a giant crowd of people is worth the t-shirt or anniversary mug or tattoo. Does anyone talk about the local band getting drunk at your wedding party and everyone got sick over the catering food that must have been cooked in the roach coach? Who celebrates Altamont?

It doesn’t have to be a giant festival to be memorial. It could be you were in the audience of a show or concert or presentation and still have the ticket stub. It could be you shared a movie with someone else but didn’t know they were there when the lights went down. A movie is the same every time but a live show gives you reference to criticize with another attendee.

I, personally, do not attend many ‘live’ performances any more. I appreciate the folks who want to climb up on a stage before a crowd and either read or play the same stuff night-after-night or wing it hoping the audience will buy the merch and follow-on social media. Many of the ole core you grew up with listening to words and music that formed your life are repeating the words written a half century ago and the energy has left them just like it has left your body. Some still attempt to drag out the tunes you get choked up to from that special dance with your first wife or wind up entertaining the senior citizens on a sea cruise where they can’t escape the sad production.

I’ve seen and heard most of the ‘classic’ groups and attended concerts of some rarities. Unfortunately, I recently haven’t heard anything or one (even with the improvement in sound systems) that I haven’t heard before or want to get on stage and jam with them. Small clubs (though not as smokey as they used to be) are too loud and festivals are too crowded and road shows are too formulated and jams on the front porch are just right.

I guess it is the same reflection as traveling to a foreign land or eating an exotic food or custom clothing or transportation or mansions on the hill, but rarely do people compare sexual partners except in the tabloids?

I was there.

1 comment:

Leslie W Jewell said...

Maybe nobody celebrates Altamont because audience members were murdered.