A few nights ago I went to a concert with my oldest son, Nathan. He had bought me tickets to go see Peter Frampton as a Christmas present. Now, if I added up all the concerts I've been to in my life, they could be counted on one hand. Just for fun, let's count them now. Ready? One, Two, ... Two. My first concert was several years ago when I went to see Aerosmith with my daughter Nina (her idea) and now I was going to see Frampton.
On the evening of the concert, we headed out to grab some dinner and settled on a Irish Restaurant down the street from the theatre. Neither of us being very hungry, we shared an appetizer of crab and shrimp fondue and I had a shot of Jameson Irish Whiskey. I mean, I couldn't dine in an authentic Irish Restaurant and not have a shot of Irish Whiskey, could I? I think not. As we fondued, I think most of our conversation revolved around whether or not I would look good if I wore a kilt. I still think I would. As you would expect, my son was less optimistic.
Anyway, we made our way to the theatre and took our seats. Balcony, front row, dead center. We watched as the theatre went from empty to jam packed. As I looked around, the median age I would say was fifty, plus or minus five years. The place was filled with people who grew up in the seventies just like I did. All of us had memories of Frampton playing on our car radio or on vinyl or 8-track tape.
Now my son is nineteen years old and he is no stranger to classic rock. He knows my affinity for Frampton, Aerosmith, Boston and the like. But if the truth were told, he would say he knows them better from games like Rock Band and Guitar Hero. It was fun to watch his reaction to the men and women entering the venue as they shouted, "Rock and Roll" while carrying beers to their seats.
Finally, the moment came, and the lights went down and Frampton emerged onto the stage and the place erupted with several hundred late stage baby boomers rising to their feet to welcome one of the men whose music had helped shape their generation. For the next three hours we were treated to song after song that brought back sweet, sweet memories from our teenage years. After one of the songs, he said, "On the live album, this would be the point, where you would put down your joint, and flip the record over and then put the needle back down on the vinyl and then pick your joint back up." My son looked at me and I said, "He wasn't talking to me but I had friends who would know exactly what he was talking about." Isn't that right, G.G. and R.W.?
It was a great time and it was fun for all of us to relive the seventies all over again. But for me, it was a special time because I went with my son. I mean, how many nineteen year old boys want to go see a concert with their dad? I had a blast and I think Nathan did too. I was pretty sure he did until I saw his facebook post; "Frampton renewed my faith in classic rock last night. Best live show I've ever seen." After seeing his post, I knew he had a good time. Merry Christmas.
Be Well.
Bill
