Concert Days

1975, Boston Music Hall, October 1 at 7:30 PM I was there in my pre-adolescent hormonal surge and plaid pants screaming so loud I couldn't hear a fucking note of music while five pretty boys from Scotland chanted S-A TUR-DAY NIGHT! 🙂 It was the absolute high point of my life at that time. The Bay City Rollers were all the rage, and I was madly in love with the lead guitar player, Eric Faulkner. He had these sleepy beagle eyes. Still does. The man is wildly handsome. He's the guy in the lower left corner of the above pic. Dreamy eyes, amirite? And here he is more recently. The man is 70 and still smokin' hot.

The concert lasted 45 minutes and one encore of a single song. I had no idea back then that we fans had been seriously short-changed. Every other concert I've been to in my sixty years on this planet, and there have been a LOT of concerts, lasted at least two hours. Bruce Springsteen, whom I have had the sheer joy of seeing live five times, never left the stage in less than three and a half hours, then would do a half hour encore. Bruce is the KING, man.

The next night, I was back at the Music Hall, back stage this time, with my Dad and sister, to see The Band. My Dad's best friend Howard was leading their brass section and got us the passes.

Little did I know then that I would grow to seriously LOVE The Band. At that time, I was unimpressed. They were not cute. Their music was not bouncy and bright. I was just there that night because my Dad made me go. If I'd had my druthers, I'd have been at home, watching Mary Tyler Moore and Bob Newhart. Eleven year olds are idiots. At least, I was.

It's been 25 years since my last concert. I'm not even sure who it was, but I wanna say it was either Santana or the Grateful Dead. It just got too hard on me physically to handle the concert scene any more.

I do miss those days. Man, we had some fun.