Party every day

There really isn’t a lot of opportunity to see good concerts when you grow up in Antigonish.

Maybe I should change that to wasn’t┬ábecause I haven’t lived there in 20 years.

My first big stadium concert didn’t happen until 1989 … yeah, you’d be surprised. The then boyfriend bought me tickets to a concert in Halifax for my birthday.

To Randy Travis.

A country music act.


He had a great time, of course.

I remember wistfully longing to be allowed to attend Triumph’s 1987 tour in Halifax. I think my best friend got to go with her boyfriend. I was incredibly jealous.

But with strict parents who ordered me into the house by sundown, I didn’t have a lot of freedom … or money … to skip off to the big city.

Aside from that, I was restricted to what I could see locally.

I snuck into the university to see Jeff Healey before I had a student card.

I saw The Pursuit of Happiness, Grapes of Wrath and several other hot Canadian bands from the early ’90s. OK, so I was there … I may not have been sober.

It was university, you know.

That’s why I’ll spend the rest of my life catching up on the bands I wanted so badly to see back in the day.

Like Motley Crue, whom I’ve seen four times. I’m anxiously awaiting their 30th anniversary tour date anywhere near my area.

I. Will. Be. There.

And Def Leppard in Kelowna about 10 years ago.

Most recently, KISS.

That’s right … you wanted the best. You got the best!

They played Spokane and a friend offered to get us tickets. I jumped up and down, clapping my hands and whining ‘please, please, please, please, please, please, please …’

The odd person was dressed up, most chose Gene Simmons.

All ages from teens to fifty-year-olds who couldn’t hold their liquor were getting hauled out of the stands before the concert even started.

Spokane Arena was packed. And the entire crowd was on its feet the second KISS took the stage.

They played for two hours.

Gene spit fire and blood, Paul Stanley’s chest carpet was on full display and so was his ass-shaking. Eric Singer’s drum solo was deafeningly awesome and Tommy Thayer’s guitar solo was mind-numbing.

Paul’s stage presence was magical.

I didn’t stop singing the entire time, waking up the next morning with a squeaky voice and a sore throat.

While I have a hard time ranking anyone higher than my beloved Crue, this was easily the best concert I’ve ever seen.

Now if only Triumph would get back together and tour again.

I know, I know … they all hate each other.

But the teen girl heart in a 40-year-old brain can still dream.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *