“Roger Daltrey, Here I Am”
I don’t think anyone ever forgets his or her first rock concert.
The gigantic stage. The sky-high amps. The pyrotechnics. The excited fans. The stench of spilled beer.
If you ask someone what their show was, they’ll tell you without hesitation.
My first-ever big rock show was with British rockers the Who. The experience was like riding the Tilt-A-Whirl with no safety bar.
Not long after releasing the studio record “It’s Hard,” the band went on tour and rolled into the monstrous Pontiac Silverdome stadium Sept. 30, 1982, in Pontiac, Michigan. It was a Thursday. I went to the concert with my two older brothers, both teenagers at the time. I was 12.
The three of us were serious Who fanatics and wanted to go to the show; we just had to convince our parents that, well, “The Kids Are Alright.”
After thinking it over for a few weeks, Mom and Dad took a deep breath and in the end, gave us a thumbs-up. We could see the show!!!!!! I remember coming home from school one day, and Mom showed me the three concert tickets she brought for us at the former Hudson’s Department Store. Unfortunately, I lost that stub, but if I remember correctly the show was only $15 plus the service charge.
I couldn’t believe my old school parents were going to let me venture out to an amazing rock concert. I could see why they would let my brothers go, because they were older and already in high school. One year earlier when the Rolling Stones came to town for a two-nighter at the Pontiac Silverdome, there was no way they would let me see Mick, Keith and the boys strut their stuff. Not in a million years. But they had a change of heart for the Who. (I think it might have had something to do with my mom having a crush on singer Roger Daltrey.)
The Who coming to town was the talk of my Warren, Michigan neighborhood for days. (In 2000, the television show “Freaks and Geeks” had an episode dedicated the Who, which felt so real to me.) It was kool that I, still in junior high, was going to be attending my first major rock ‘n’ roll concert.
But there was a catch. My parents weren’t comfortable with my oldest brother driving us to the Silverdome by ourselves. The other fans (kooks, as my dad put it) made them nervous, so they drove us to and from the concert. Sure, it was kind of embarrassing, but that was the take-it-or-leave-it deal.
After weeks of waiting, the big day finally arrived. My Levi’s were washed, I sprayed my feathered hair lopsided into place, and I was sure my purple shirt from Sears would stop Roger Daltrey in his tracks. “Love Live Rock.”
The drive from our house in Warren to Pontiac was roughly 30 minutes with no traffic. On concert day, the five of us piled in our white Buick LeSabre and headed north on Interstate-75 to the venue. (The Pontiac Silverdome has since been demolished.)
On a technical note, the show was general admission, which meant your ticket came without a specific seat number, row or section. Fans just showed up with their tickets in hand and stood in line with the other rockers. Once the stadium doors whisked open, you dashed inside and found a seat wherever you could, of course trying to get as close as possible to the stage.
In hopes of getting a decent spot in line, we left for the concert right after school. (Mom’s idea.) I think the show started at 7:30 p.m. After our parents dropped us off, we took our spots in line. Because it would be a long afternoon, my mom packed all three of us lunches in large brown paper bags.
The three of us headed toward the back of the line, stood with our brown paper sacks and waited patiently for the Silverdome doors to open. It would be a long wait. As the afternoon dragged on, I noticed we were behind a large barbed wire fence and it sort of reminded me of jail.
There was nothing to do but wait. Since I had never been to a rock show before, I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just stood there hanging on to the lunch sack my sweet mom packed.
There was plenty of chitchat between the concert-goers as we waited, and people were even drinking beer while in line. I couldn’t believe it. In broad daylight. I’m pretty sure some of them weren’t 21 yet. I kept thinking they would all get caught by the police, but that didn’t happen. Things were definitely more loose in the early ‘80s.
One fan sticks out in my memory. He was probably 18 and approached me while in line. He had a rather elongated head, bluish eyes and a ski hat on top of his elongated head. (He kind of had the Seattle grunge look going on before its time.)
He started talking to me like he knew me. Judging from his actions, I was sure he was going to hop the fence, but his friend stopped him. For the longest time after, I would doodle pictures of Mr. Elongated Head on my homework notes. I have never forgotten that guy.
Then things got out of hand. Tired of standing in line, the crowd started whipping their beer bottles over the fence. The glass hit the pavement one-by-one, creating a crashing sound that echoed. Smash. Boom. Bang.
Soon after, Silverdome staff opened the doors and in we went. After shopping at a T-shirt booth, my brothers and I found three seats in the lower level a straight but very long shot from the stage. Pinch me, someone, because I am at the Who.
Not only did the Who mark my first concert, it also will go down in history as the first time I was surrounded by stoners. Everyone around me was lighting up joints, toking down and getting high. I didn’t smoke anything. Honest to God. I just innocently ate the submarine sandwich and snacks my mom packed.
Eddie Money opened the show, so technically he was the very first live rock act I ever saw perform. During his set, I remember he said something about being on tour with “My good buddies, the Who” and the crowd went wild. I always liked Eddie Money and was bummed out when he passed away last year.
The Clash was up next. They didn’t win over the concertgoers in our section. They booed the Clash, but being so far away, there’s a chance the band didn’t hear them.
Oh, boy, what a night. Singer Roger Daltrey, guitar whiz Pete Townshend, bassist John Entwistle and drummer Kenney Jones did not disappoint, except that they were late to their own concert.
On stage, they were so far away. Roger Daltrey looked like a Barbie doll, and there was some sound equipment that made it difficult for me to see Pete Townshend. There was, however, so much energy in that arena. Everyone around me was having a good time cheering for the band, dancing to the music, clapping along to the tunes. With their versatile sound, I’ve always felt the Who stood out from other bands. After the Rolling Stones, they are probably my second favorite rock group.
They seemed to play forever. I wish I could remember all the songs they did. I should have written them down on paper and stuck them in a memory book somewhere. There is a set list on the website www.thewholive.net/concert/index.php?id=474 that I pursued while writing this piece.
The band had so many great songs: “Squeezebox,” “Sister Disco,” “Substitute,” “It’s Hard,” “Love Reign O’er Me.” The list never ends. “Baba O’Reilly” was quite the teen anthem; “Tommy” was amazing.
I can still picture a few of the fans. My oldest brother Dave talked to these two skinny stoners who sat next to us. Another guy carried a big cardboard box full of potato chip bags.
I still smile at the sight of this one guy who sat on the other side of the aisle and slept through the whole thing. I’m not kidding. We all cheered when he briefly opened up his eyes and lifted his head when the Who took the stage. But for most of the night, he was out of it.
We found our parents after the show. While walking to our car, some 20-something guy goofed on my Dad by shouting “Hey, how did you like the show?” Either my dad ignored him or didn’t hear him. It was kind of funny.
I donned my the Who jersey and baseball cap for as long as I could after the show before they became unwearable. “Love Live Rock.”
In Harmony, Maria Allard
