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The oddest things that happened to you at a concert


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I'm sure I have many, but here's the first one to comes to mind.

 

On March 25, 1994, I got to sit onstage for the second set of the Grateful Dead show at Nassau. Behind Vince and just to the left of Garcia, and right next to Hornsby who played accordion that night. I have cousins in SF, and they became friends with Bob Bralove, so starting around '91 whenever the Dead came to Boston, Bralove would set me up with passes and tickets and I'd often catch him for a drink after the show (they always stayed at the Four Seasons in Boston). For this Nassau show, my wife and I either drove down to LI or we were already in NYC for other family gatherings. Anyhow, my cousin's daughter was in town, and she knew Bralove and his wife her entire life. So  at the set break, Bralove's wife came and got us and brought Laurel and me to the stage. There were 2 seats for us, and we were given strict orders to DO NOT MOVE. Kinda weird to have to stay planted in your seat for an entire Dead set. 

 

Typical for 1994, it wasn't a great set. Now that I look at the comments in the link below, most folks thought it was a terrible show. But, it had one amazing moment for me. The band, like most musicians, always spoke of how they could feel and feed off the energy of the crowd. When they came out for the encore and went into The Weight, there was a palpable surge of energy starting way back in the Coliseum, that rolled through the entire arena and washed up onto the stage. The wave of energy washed over everyone on stage, and you could see it and feel it coming. It was as palpable and real as sitting on the beach and watching a wave form and roll towards and over you.  I will never forget that moment.

 

http://www.setlists.net/?show_id=2230

Nevermind the story of the show (which in and of itself sounds cool as fuck) but meeting Bralove for a drink after a show is off the charts! Most excellent!

Saw Pink Floyd in 87ish at the Rosemont Horizon during their Momentary Lapse of Reason tour. Worst concert I've ever seen, incredibly boring. It pains me to say that because I do like their records. Anyways, the Rosemont pigs were really obnoxious that night. They were pulling people out of their seats, left and right, for lighting up. I was sitting next to a guy who seemed normal but when the lights went down and the show started, he started acting strange. Like he started touching the people around him, myself included. I told him to knock it off which thankfully he did. But he couldn't stop touching the woman next to him. Her boyfriend got all up in the guys face, swearing and threatening him. The guy then sat there with his hands on his thighs for a bit (I was watching because this was more entertaining than what was happening on stage) and wouldn't you know it, he started touching her again. Up goes the boyfriend and he comes back with some cops who drag Mr Feely away, never to be seen again. I have no idea if the guy was X'd out or special needs or whatever but that was weird.

I know I've said this before, but I went to exactly ONE Rosemont show (GD, 4/13/88) and decided I would never return. It was the biggest shithole arena ever.

I've probably told this story on here before, but what the heck. In December '79, my brother and I went to see The Who in New Haven with a few of his buddies. Five of us piled into a car that sat four comfortably, so someone had to sit on the hump in back. On the way out of Bristol, we stop at Bristol Hospital, and one guy gets out and goes inside to meet his connection. (You couldn't make this shit up.) He comes out with a nice big bag of weed and off we go.

 

It's 45 minutes to New Haven, so there's plenty of time to get mighty well done. The guy rolls a joint, lights it, takes a hit, passes it, and starts rolling another. Pretty soon, it's take a hit, blow it out, take the next joint, take a hit, blow it out. Literally every breath is a big hit of weed. The car looks like Cheech and Chong in Up in Smoke, just filled with smoke. I'm all of 14 at the time, so by the time we get to New Haven, I'm curled up in the corner of the back seat having cartoon nightmares of Ted Kennedy. If anyone ever tells you that you can't overdose on weed, I'm here to tell you, you sure as hell can.

 

We pull into the arena parking lot and just fall out of the car. Right next to us is a candyman, who looks at us and says: "Acid, shrooms, crystal meth?" Uh, no, we're good, man.

 

We go inside and find our seats, and I'm so zonked out, I'm literally feeling sick. Almost paralyzed with it, and worried that I'm going to puke. I sit in my seat and the lights go down, and there's a big black screen with big yellow letters spelling out the word Quadrophenia. It comes forward, gets bigger, than disappears. It just keeps coming at me like a warrior. Quadrophenia. Quadrophenia. Quadrophenia. Dear Jesus, please let it stop!

 

Finally it stops and The Who come out and kick major ass. Someone hands me binoculars, and I look and I can see the little orange tag on Pete's Levi's jeans. But I don't move out of that seat for a minute the entire time.

 

So now you know the answer to the whole standing/sitting debate: if someone doesn't get up and dance around at a rock show, there might be a very good reason, and it might not be that they are sooooo old.

 

 

I've probably told this story on here before, but what the heck. In December '79, my brother and I went to see The Who in New Haven with a few of his buddies. Five of us piled into a car that sat four comfortably, so someone had to sit on the hump in back. On the way out of Bristol, we stop at Bristol Hospital, and one guy gets out and goes inside to meet his connection. (You couldn't make this shit up.) He comes out with a nice big bag of weed and off we go.

 

It's 45 minutes to New Haven, so there's plenty of time to get mighty well done. The guy rolls a joint, lights it, takes a hit, passes it, and starts rolling another. Pretty soon, it's take a hit, blow it out, take the next joint, take a hit, blow it out. Literally every breath is a big hit of weed. The car looks like Cheech and Chong in Up in Smoke, just filled with smoke. I'm all of 14 at the time, so by the time we get to New Haven, I'm curled up in the corner of the back seat having cartoon nightmares of Ted Kennedy. If anyone ever tells you that you can't overdose on weed, I'm here to tell you, you sure as hell can.

 

We pull into the arena parking lot and just fall out of the car. Right next to us is a candyman, who looks at us and says: "Acid, shrooms, crystal meth?" Uh, no, we're good, man.

 

We go inside and find our seats, and I'm so zonked out, I'm literally feeling sick. Almost paralyzed with it, and worried that I'm going to puke. I sit in my seat and the lights go down, and there's a big black screen with big yellow letters spelling out the word Quadrophenia. It comes forward, gets bigger, than disappears. It just keeps coming at me like a warrior. Quadrophenia. Quadrophenia. Quadrophenia. Dear Jesus, please let it stop!

 

Finally it stops and The Who come out and kick major ass. Someone hands me binoculars, and I look and I can see the little orange tag on Pete's Levi's jeans. But I don't move out of that seat for a minute the entire time.

 

So now you know the answer to the whole standing/sitting debate: if someone doesn't get up and dance around at a rock show, there might be a very good reason, and it might not be that they are sooooo old.

 

I loved the 70s!  :D

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Hmmm..as far as the "Most Stoned Ever" (pot division) goes, I went to The Creek for a Roger Waters show in Fall '06. I had a friend camping at a place really close to Deer Creek so my wife and I met him and his friends there. Before the show I was home doing yard work, middle of the day, drinking IPAs. All of a sudden it was "We gotta go meet everybody!" so down the road we went.

 

We hook up with our friends, hang out, drink more beer, smoke up. I realize I forgot to eat before we left! Well...my buddy and his old lady just happened to have a pan of brownies to share. Yay! I'm starved. I eat about a 4 inch square of very tasty brownie as we're getting ready to drive a half mile down the road. Feeling much better for some food in my gut.

 

Fast forward about an hour later - show starts. We're on the lawn. A few songs into the set they do "Set The Controls". We're all ecstatic - old-school Floyd! Yahoo! The pipe gets passed around. Not long after I'm standing there and it feels like someone is almost pushing me forward. The lawn at DC is by no means steep like Alpine, for example, but I'm almost ready to fall forward. So I just sit down.

 

5 minutes later my head is hanging down, I'm all sweaty. I feel like I snorted PCP (which hadn't happened since 81-82 ish). I am WHACKED. Can't keep my eyes open! The music sounds like the cleanest, best thing you've ever heard but I can't lift my head to see the fucking stage! Near the end of the set they're doing Sheep, and all of a sudden my old GD tour buddy Smokestack pokes me on the shoulder - "Hey, Scotty, look!" First I see his usual maniacal gap-toothed grin, then he points up at the sky. RIGHT above our heads is the Animals pig (updated to have anti-Bush slogans painted all over it). I gaze up at it for maybe 3 seconds then POOF, it zooms away into the night, never to return. I look at Jack and say, "Oh, well that makes perfect sense", then go back to hanging my head, eyes closed. LOL

 

Set break comes, and my old lady is all worried and shit - "OMG, can you guys carry him out of here? Maybe he's DYING!" I'm all just like, "Hey just go get me a bottle of water, ok?" She brings the water back, I suck it down, and then set 2 starts - DSOTM in its entirety. I'm perfectly fine now, movin' and groovin'. Fantastic set, GREAT sound, all is well.

 

Now I would consider myself to be, above all, a professional in such things as pot but I REALLY over-extended myself that night. 

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Back when I was a rookie in such matters, I was at a basement party having a good time and I saw colorful sound waves coming out of the speakers. It was fantastic and I would pay good money for that experience again.

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Hmmm..as far as the "Most Stoned Ever" (pot division) goes, I went to The Creek for a Roger Waters show in Fall '06. I had a friend camping at a place really close to Deer Creek so my wife and I met him and his friends there. Before the show I was home doing yard work, middle of the day, drinking IPAs. All of a sudden it was "We gotta go meet everybody!" so down the road we went.

 

We hook up with our friends, hang out, drink more beer, smoke up. I realize I forgot to eat before we left! Well...my buddy and his old lady just happened to have a pan of brownies to share. Yay! I'm starved. I eat about a 4 inch square of very tasty brownie as we're getting ready to drive a half mile down the road. Feeling much better for some food in my gut.

 

Fast forward about an hour later - show starts. We're on the lawn. A few songs into the set they do "Set The Controls". We're all ecstatic - old-school Floyd! Yahoo! The pipe gets passed around. Not long after I'm standing there and it feels like someone is almost pushing me forward. The lawn at DC is by no means steep like Alpine, for example, but I'm almost ready to fall forward. So I just sit down.

 

5 minutes later my head is hanging down, I'm all sweaty. I feel like I snorted PCP (which hadn't happened since 81-82 ish). I am WHACKED. Can't keep my eyes open! The music sounds like the cleanest, best thing you've ever heard but I can't lift my head to see the fucking stage! Near the end of the set they're doing Sheep, and all of a sudden my old GD tour buddy Smokestack pokes me on the shoulder - "Hey, Scotty, look!" First I see his usual maniacal gap-toothed grin, then he points up at the sky. RIGHT above our heads is the Animals pig (updated to have anti-Bush slogans painted all over it). I gaze up at it for maybe 3 seconds then POOF, it zooms away into the night, never to return. I look at Jack and say, "Oh, well that makes perfect sense", then go back to hanging my head, eyes closed. LOL

 

Set break comes, and my old lady is all worried and shit - "OMG, can you guys carry him out of here? Maybe he's DYING!" I'm all just like, "Hey just go get me a bottle of water, ok?" She brings the water back, I suck it down, and then set 2 starts - DSOTM in its entirety. I'm perfectly fine now, movin' and groovin'. Fantastic set, GREAT sound, all is well.

 

Now I would consider myself to be, above all, a professional in such things as pot but I REALLY over-extended myself that night. 

This shit is hilarious!

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By far the oddest thing to happen to me at a concert was at They Might Be Giants at the Orpheum theatre in Boston in 1990 - my buddy and I are in the 15th or so row, and during a moment of banter, John Flansburgh says "Annnnd, we'd like to thank ... PETE!" and points at me. Now, my name's Pete, and he's pointing, as far as I can tell, at me. My friend, laughing, reaches up and points down at me and yells to John "This is Pete! This is really Pete!" and all the heads around us are turned and people are nodding or laughing. "No really I'm Pete!" I yell. John & John crane their necks and block the lights from their eyes looking out at me. "You're not Pete," says Linnell. "What'd you do with Pete!?!" yells Flansburgh and they launch into another song.

A few years later I got to chat with them backstage after a Harvard U. show and, against my better judgement (there goes the mystique), I brought it up. They didn't recall the situation, and sort of quietly figured out to each other the real "Pete" he was thanking.

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Dozens! Wow. Nice. My impression was the same as you describe. My other proud little nugget is I met Flansburgh's parents at one show (Avalon in Boston) and Linnell's dad at another (he brought me and my girlfriend backstage at Harvard).

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^ I don't live far from Brooklyn they just had a standing residency in Brooklyn over the last few years. Anytime tickets were $10 on stub hub Id usually go that or if they have had a themed show I was interested in. Lucky enough to hear all of Self Titled, Lincoln (Minus 1 song), Flood, Apollo 18 live. I also saw them a bunch in High School and College still these days one of my sentimental favorites.

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By far the oddest thing to happen to me at a concert was at They Might Be Giants at the Orpheum theatre in Boston in 1990 - my buddy and I are in the 15th or so row, and during a moment of banter, John Flansburgh says "Annnnd, we'd like to thank ... PETE!" and points at me. Now, my name's Pete, and he's pointing, as far as I can tell, at me. My friend, laughing, reaches up and points down at me and yells to John "This is Pete! This is really Pete!" and all the heads around us are turned and people are nodding or laughing. "No really I'm Pete!" I yell. John & John crane their necks and block the lights from their eyes looking out at me. "You're not Pete," says Linnell. "What'd you do with Pete!?!" yells Flansburgh and they launch into another song.

A few years later I got to chat with them backstage after a Harvard U. show and, against my better judgement (there goes the mystique), I brought it up. They didn't recall the situation, and sort of quietly figured out to each other the real "Pete" he was thanking.

 

 

^ Pete might be giant! :wave Ah good stuff..Seen them dozens of times John Lennel is a tough nut to crack in person but Flansburg is fun and easier to talk to. They always have interesting stage banter

I always get a kick out of hearing about TMBG and John Linnell. I moved to Boston in August 1979. One of my to be new friends moved here at the same time from Providence, and he was hip to this RI new wave band called The Mundanes. We ended up seeing them lots of times around the Boston-Cambridge club scene over the next several years. They were fun, and some good poppy fun tunes, and they had Marcia, who we all had a crush on.  And they had this guy on keys, John Linnell. Always amazed me that out of that band, John was the one and only who went on to greater rock n roll fame.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mundanes

 

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=the+mundanes&view=detail&mid=3E0C54FFEAFD730ED3A53E0C54FFEAFD730ED3A5&FORM=VIRE

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The first concert I brought all four of my kids to was a TMBG show 10+ years ago at The Vic.  It was a "13 and older show."  My two youngest were 13 and 14 at the time.  When we got to the door, the bouncer asked them for ID's.  They didn't have ID's and the bouncer told them they couldn't get into the show.  I told the bouncer that I was their father and that 13 & 14 year olds don't have driver's licenses, school ID's or identification cards (I guess I could have brought their birth certificates!).  The bouncer was adamant and said that without ID's they couldn't get in.  So the six of us started heading home when someone affiliated with the band who had witnessed what was going on, came up to me and asked me if these were my kids and would they be with me the whole night?  When I told him "yes" on both accounts, he brought us to the bouncer and ordered him to let us in.

 

The show was fantastic and starting that night, my kids became hooked on live music.  One of the most fun nights of my life just watching their expressions.    

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I always get a kick out of hearing about TMBG and John Linnell. I moved to Boston in August 1979. One of my to be new friends moved here at the same time from Providence, and he was hip to this RI new wave band called The Mundanes. We ended up seeing them lots of times around the Boston-Cambridge club scene over the next several years. They were fun, and some good poppy fun tunes, and they had Marcia, who we all had a crush on.  And they had this guy on keys, John Linnell. Always amazed me that out of that band, John was the one and only who went on to greater rock n roll fame.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mundanes

 

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=the+mundanes&view=detail&mid=3E0C54FFEAFD730ED3A53E0C54FFEAFD730ED3A5&FORM=VIRE

 

Wow! Had never heard of The Mundanes. Thanks.

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That story shook loose a memory for me - trying to get into the Iron Horse in Northampton Mass to see (I swear I've seen other bands!) They Might Be Giants, but the doorman wouldn't accept that I was 18. I begged and pleaded (didn't have a drivers license) and he eventually relented at my request to at least go to the merch table behind him because I needed a shirt. I stood in line for a second there then darted into the venue. Hid out with my friends on the floor for a few frantic pre-show minutes as we watched him scan the crowd, and eventually he tapped me on the shoulder and I was escorted out.

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That story shook loose a memory for me - trying to get into the Iron Horse in Northampton Mass to see (I swear I've seen other bands!) They Might Be Giants, but the doorman wouldn't accept that I was 18. I begged and pleaded (didn't have a drivers license) and he eventually relented at my request to at least go to the merch table behind him because I needed a shirt. I stood in line for a second there then darted into the venue. Hid out with my friends on the floor for a few frantic pre-show minutes as we watched him scan the crowd, and eventually he tapped me on the shoulder and I was escorted out.

I used to record concerts on my handheld tape recorder recorded hundreds of shows from 97-2005?? Only time I ever got caugh was weezer on Pinkerton tour. Big huge bouncer yanked it out of my hand but got away and was able to stay

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