I have been rather scornful of late about the meaninglessness of rock and pop come-backs of the likes of the Spice Girls and Take That and was disappointed at at Robert Plant having anything to do with a Led Zeppelin come-back. After all, he has evolved a long way, with his band Strange Sensation, since his priapic rock-god days; and his current collaboration with Alison Krauss is stunning. And then there was my last post: the anti stadium gig rant.
However, I am guilty of hypocrisy.
On Thursday I was in HMV browsing the classical music section, when over the excellent music system came Rock n Roll by Led Zeppelin, there followed Kashmir and two or three other Zep classics. When I heard those opening bars of Robert Plants throaty, almost lupine, cry, something happened deep inside me: the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and somewhere in my guts, or maybe in my cardio-vascular system, there were buttons pressed that are somehow linked to something fundamental to the essence of my being. I was fixed to the spot. Entranced I mouthed the words like some sort of mantra. Had you, there and then told me that for only £80 there was a ticket for the Led Zep reunion tour at the till and all I had to do was walk barefoot over burning coals and broken glass to get it, I would have gladly ran there waving my wad of notes. That is I would have had the store detective not come and stood very close to me until I left.
However, I am guilty of hypocrisy.
On Thursday I was in HMV browsing the classical music section, when over the excellent music system came Rock n Roll by Led Zeppelin, there followed Kashmir and two or three other Zep classics. When I heard those opening bars of Robert Plants throaty, almost lupine, cry, something happened deep inside me: the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and somewhere in my guts, or maybe in my cardio-vascular system, there were buttons pressed that are somehow linked to something fundamental to the essence of my being. I was fixed to the spot. Entranced I mouthed the words like some sort of mantra. Had you, there and then told me that for only £80 there was a ticket for the Led Zep reunion tour at the till and all I had to do was walk barefoot over burning coals and broken glass to get it, I would have gladly ran there waving my wad of notes. That is I would have had the store detective not come and stood very close to me until I left.
The thing is that now, sat here dispassionately in Oldham Library, I stand by my original view of stadium gigs. So what is it about the music of our early years that sets our pulses racing? I'm sure the answer lies with Miss Taylor and Sigmund Freud. The Austrian mind-doctor tells us that our the experiences of our formative years lay the foundations for our adult lives, so when I hear the fabulous bands of my teenage years I can not help but respond instinctively from deep within. So it's no wonder that the nostalgia merchants have us by the shorts is it - all they do is push the buttons and we run up eagerly to give them our money, whether it's Take That, Spice Girls or Deep Purple, nostalgia cannot fail to sell - sad isn't it.
Miss Taylor? She was my first love: age 6 years I fell in love with my teacher who had long ginger hair. If you ever need me to do something very difficult or unpopular just get someone with long ginger hair to ask me: Freud was right!
3 comments:
The only big stadium gig I have been to was REM, all the others were at smaller venues and it was a present as well.
I don`t think I could warrant spending £80 on any ticket nostalga or otherwise!..... Unless of course it had something to do with Johnny Depp and would be there with an open purse!.... lol :D
Right, your secret is out, where's that wig......??
I don't think I've actually been to a stadium gig. The nearest I got was Pink Floyd at the Docklands Arena back in 1989. Mind you, I think the smaller venue added an air of intimacy to the gig.
And on the subject of first love? The first female that I recall having lustful feelings for was Debbie Harry in the video for Heart Of Glass. I set my sights a bit high there. I had to settle for a snog with Michelle Cheal from Mrs Standens class.
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