Old people be smokin' some DOPE

So I had my first Pearl Jam experience on Saturday.

This is a band that was my "first" band. It was the first band (other than New Kids On The Block, which no one counts anyway) that I attached myself to as "my own". No one exposed me to them but the Grand Junction rock station. Jeremy, Daughter, Oceans, Black, Alive.... All were on a constant spin on my tape player/radio.

Then Dave came along. PJ was still on heavy rotation, but I evolved (or regressed, depending on what side of the music fence you sit on) into a musician myself, and DMB walked me through the process.

The show itself was impressive. In fact, it reminded me of Dave Matthews shows with the big fan section (who looked like dave fans), the "let me share my neverending knowledge of how many times Bee Girl has been played on either side of the Mississippi" fan talk, and, of COURSE, the drunk soccer moms. Can't forget them. The pure loudness at which they shout out requests makes it difficult to ignore them. I felt right at home. I also rekindled my romance with PJ after the years of teen angst that they saw me through. They played several radio songs and I can see how that may have disappointed the regulars, but for a first timer like me, I didn't mind. And we were in the fifth row. And Eddie Vedder is still hot. Way hot.

Also worth mentioning is the Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers Act that followed. I don't seem to remember a time in my childhood where TP wasn't on a mixed tape somewhere in my mom's car. Hell, "Learning To Fly" was my class song (the true meaning didn't escape the graduates, but the parents thought it was precious that we chose a "oldie" artists).

Even though the show was good, Tom was able to remain on 2 feet (for most of it, at least), and his band is an amazing collection of music that he has more or less been able to hang on to for the better part of 30 years, it all seemed to fall apart for me somehwere after Running Down A Dream. This is the risk you take going to shows. Especially big ticket ones like this.

1. Tom was HIGH AS A KITE. Had to rest on the piano at times. He's losing his touch. Normally, I'm all for drugs and music, but it just made him look like some burned out rock star. No Tom, walk towards the light.

2. The soccer moms. The drunk soccer moms. It's funny how the older you get, the less you can hold your liquor and the less attractive you look with a couple of beers in you. I understand that your busy lives only facilitate one outing a year and the only token that remains of your younger, wilder days is the red mouth tattoo (a-la Rolling Stones) fading on your left ass cheek, but certain behaviors aren't acceptable inside a concert venue. They've never been acceptable.
A. Screaming at a concert is fine. It's even expected (especially from you). Shouting out your undying love for the artist doesn't bother me. The "WOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOO" drone doesn't bother me either. The song requests do. Shouting "Top Of The World" at the Top of Your Lungs in between EVERY SONG doesn't work. It never has. Do you honestly think Tom Petty/Mick Jagger/Sting/ whoever you listen to will drop the setlist him and his band spent hours fighting over (drawing blood at times) because some drunk lady in the crowd is screaming like a banshee? If he plays it, he plays it because it was on the setlist. If he doesn't, it's obviously because God hates you.

PLAY SOME FREEEEEEEEBIRD!

3. Tom was LIP SYNCHING. Look, I understand that that's just the way it is. 30 years of performing can make the chorus of "Free Fallin" a little arduous, but I can't help but be little bummed when you pay $100 for a concert ticket and Tom Petty can barely move his mouth.

But I love concerts. LOVE them. When I ended my classical training and stopped gigging regularly, I worried that every musical experience would be a painful reminder of the life on the fringe I had always imagined but gave up. But the opposite has happened. I love music just as I always had. But the itch is still there, not to be the show, but to run the show. When I go to concerts I think and think and think about everything. Ross noticed it too. About the entry habits of the band. About the security guards and whether or not they are doing their jobs. About that fabulous smell of cannabis that engulfs the venue the second the lights go down. About the lack of sobriety of the artist and how much they can take. Perhaps that's what worked with Clear Channel, that despite all the ridiculousness of corporate media, it exposed me to a branch of the business where I could carve out a home. I have since decided to submit my resume to production companies and promoters, starting with Bonaroo's. I mean, who doesn't need a bitch? I'm definitely qualified.