I went to a Cure concert last week, a cool three decades since I first saw them play. Goodness me. Their set was full of the requisite sad songs—they were wonderful, like a summer rainstorm. But the show was more joyful than I expected. There was a sense of celebration among the crowd, dutifully dressed in black.
Enduring bands exist in a strange place between present and past. We want the old feeling even as we get grayer and the band gets creakier. But the Cure remain surprisingly vital—they played nearly three hours, Robert Smith’s voice sounds great, their new songs are excellent. Like many people at the show I was connected to the history with my favorite band experiencing memories in real time.
Speaking of legacy acts—when did that phrase get invented anyway?—the first show I ever saw was the Rolling Stones in the Metrodome in 1989. I was a freshman in high school and this was The Steel Wheels tour. They seemed old (if energetic) even then. Then I saw a few Tom Petty shows—I would still wear those T-shirts if I had them. I still have a soft sport for Tom Petty and once, late at night fifteen years ago, I got so revved up by the cost of tickets at Madison Square Garden that I bought a cheaper ticket for the Philadelphia show. The lone ticket arrived in the mail to my surprise. I headed to Philly sat in the 8th row surrounded by older couples who asked me to take their photos.
There was an unexpected detour into Billy Joel, Storm Front tour. That would be the We Didn’t Start the Fire era. Ugh. Those early shows involved planning and parents dropping us off. Then we could drive and go under our own power. We would scour the listings in City Pages for good bands and the crucial phrase: ALL AGES.
The first time I became truly possessed was at a Pixies Show when I was sixteen. I wrote about this before—how I was briefly determined to drive with them on their tour. That didn’t happen. But the passion remained and then the phases began. There was a Van Halen phase (yes, I owned a concert video), a predictable U2 phase (attended Rattle & Hum film on opening night in a hat inspired by the Edge, sigh), an unexpected Midnight Oil phase.
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