Damn, I must be getting old.
Current mood: sanguinely shamless
So Kevin sent around that “First Concert” bulletin, and suddenly I felt like coming clean on the fact that my first music concert was The Osmond Brothers. Yeah, yeah, I know: I still had to preface it with the fact I saw Flip Wilson first, so what does that say? I mean, we all know “First Concert” implies music, right? But ya know, if that *is* the fact, then in truth my first “concert” would be some by-now anonymous jazz band at the NCO club at Fort Jackson army base in Columbia, SC. Yes, I *did* do the bunnyhop throughout the club with the rest of the kids that night. Since we’re being confessional and all that crap.
…or maybe it’s not that I’m getting older. Maybe I’m just feeling feeling more confident about admitting to the Osmonds since I saw Parts and Labor, In the Year of the Pig, and The Whole World Laughing at Nightlight last Sunday night, and I was, once again, still the only one really dancing and rocking out down in front. I mean, c’mon, guys: What’s gonna happen if you do more than shallow knee bends when the music is hot? Don’t even try to say you might spill your stupid fucking beer, ’cause you all know I had that damned pint glass full of Boddington’s and I didn’t spill a drop. I wish Nightlight would carry Bass, though, ’cause the long narrow neck does allow more freedom of movement and jumping about.
So yeah. The Osmond Brothers. My first arena-style music concert. Forget all you bunheads who claim your first concert was the Ramones at CBGB’s while yr parents were shooting smack in the back. *This* ex-communicated Mormon kid earned rocker rights through a skool of hard knox that would give even Freddie nightmares!
Suggested moral to this story: The bunnyhop through the NCO club is but a hop, skip, and jump to pogo at the rock club.