The Virgin Voyage
Photo courtesy of Sheila Van Noy
One of the best things about shows is they’re a rare opportunity to kick back with old friends. But there’s also something really thrilling about taking a newbie to a show, sitting back, and watching them take it in. And all the better if they’re a hard sell. I recently interviewed someone who spent about a decade trying to convince a hardcore anti-DMB friend to come out to a show. After years and years of protest, this guy told me, all it took was one show for his friend to turn into a fanatic. Maybe I like these stories so much because they remind me of my own first time. I was not a happy camper when I was hauled off to the Fleet Center on October 2, 1996. But by about two minutes into the Seek Up opener I could barely pick my jaw up off the floor. More than 13 years later, I still get the chills when I listen to that version of Seek Up.
Over the years, I’ve taken a variety of newbies to shows. No matter how bitter or uninterested they may be walking in the gates, I’ve yet to see anyone come out unimpressed. Of all these experiences, though, there have been a few really stand-out moments. In 2002, I happened to have an extra ticket for the N2 MSG show. My friend from California was on the east coast for the holidays so he decided to join me. He was a pretty hard-core Deadhead and ready to be thoroughly unimpressed. Watching him dance around in pure joy and freak out with the rest of the crowd that night as the floor of MSG literally started rocking when James Brown came onstage was a huge highlight in a show that, to this day, stands out as one of the most amazing spectacles I’ve ever seen.
And, I have to say, much as I was absolutely mortified when my parents insisted on escorting me to concerts in junior high, in adulthood, taking (OK, dragging, might be a more accurate word) them to their first DMB shows with me was just the best feeling. On our car ride down to Berkeley’s Greek Theatre for N1 in 2008, my dad told me he was only going to “get this out of the way” so I’d stop harassing him to come see DMB with me. He was completely won over before we even walked through the entrance, just from spending a few hours in line talking with waiting fans. I’ve never seen as big of a smile on his face as I saw while he was watching the show. For the next few weeks, it really tripped me out that my dad was driving around listening to a CD of the Greek show, calling me to point out things about the music and DaveSpeak, and offering commentary on it all. Much the same with my mom. After a 5 a.m. wake-up call to start the trek from California up to the Gorge the morning of N1 and a long day of traveling, I figured she’d be absolutely destroyed by the end of the show. Surprise, surprise! As I began to drag myself up the steep incline out of the pavilion at the end of the night, I saw her practically skipping down the path toward me, looking more happy and lively than I can remember seeing her in a long, long time. It was yet another great moment. This year my parents are going to a show on their own accord, taking their own friends to see DMB for the first time. They’ve done me proud.
My checking account has taken a slaughtering at the hands of this band for many, many years now, yet there are still moments when I can barely believe what they can do when they’re really on fire. But no matter how many shows I go to and how many amazing things I see and hear, there’s no way to go back and experience that first rush again. Luckily, watching someone else take it all in for the first time is a close second.
