**** Begin Pondering Rambling ****
It is so strange, this place used to be so huge. I remember the way it felt in the sheer awe of being herded through the various sections to my seat 29 years ago more clearly than the events themselves. Loge 21 if my memory serves me, just off the floor on the left side, maybe row K? I remember how insanely excited I was in that sensory overload awaiting the big rock show and savoring every nuance. Flipping between being wrapped in the music and making mental notes of things to tell my friends that I wanted to remember. Jimmy Page playing Dazed and Confused with the violin bow and then there was and that spinning laser cone. It like totally surrounded him and was a just a single green beam at first. It started waving into a triangle and three more triangles sliced down forming a pyramid of green eerie light that began to spin around him into a glowing cone as he hammered away at the strings. And finally the blinding green dot of the laser hitting his bow he swung in a circle around his head brought the entire audience on top of their seat again to be put down by security.
If there is one clear sacrifice I made by entering the music industry as a way of life, I would have to say it is the dilution of exactly that anticipation and thrill. I realized as it happened. Slowly my perception of bands and enjoyment of their music began to weigh heavier as the lines blurred between rock-show and job-site. Where I used to enjoy listening purely to the songs created, I found myself equally concerned with the 'whom' I was listening to. As I worked with more artists I found it increasingly difficult to enjoy the music created by knuckle heads. Or worse yet, listening to the music of a sonic-monopolizing ego-maniacal artistic dictator surrounded by minions as I have met quite a few, became nearly unbearable. So I graciously avoid those entities both musically and professionally.
As a replacement for what I have lost, I have found something enjoyably unexpected. That exuberance has somehow developed into an awareness. Just as the less than enjoyable humans devalued their own music in my ears, being exposed to inspirational and intriguing humans elevates my taste for much that I had previously overlooked and now with that clearer insight I have an added enjoyment of their sonic creations.
*** End Pondering Rambling ****
Today my dad came to the rock show. Today I gave my dad his first full tour of what goes on at a large concert and for the first time my dad actually watched a rock show and for the first time I actually think he truly grasped what it is that I do. He is not much of a music guy, best I can remember hearing from him was some recordings of 3 old guys playing recorders (wooden flutes) and a few classical albums he never listened to. Also I am relatively confident that he was not too thrilled to have me huddled in the corner of his living room for hours and hours on end, headphones blasting. I started with a used Beach Boys live album and quickly ramped up to Pink Floyd, Sabbath and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young with the help of a friend named Raggs who lived down the alley. I am pretty sure that career choice was not quite what he had envisioned but none the less, today my dad came to the rock show. And the best part is that he liked it.
**** Highlight of the Day ****
Watching my dad fully immersed and focused in watching the Red Hot Chili Peppers grand finally encore jam.
**** End Highlight of the Day ****
Oh, and he definitely enjoyed it a bit more than his very first rock show and though he has bragging rights to say he actually saw Black Flag in 1985, I do not think he fully appreciated the significance. My mom on the other hand, well she think that Henry Rollins guy is cute and once showed up at a 45 Grave/Channel 3/Godhead show with a birthday cake for me. Imagine my joy of having mom running around at a punk rock show with a pink birthday cake and candles, singing away. Like many things in life, it often takes time to fully appreciate.
And so concludes US tour leg #1.
The looking forward to home,