Tramps Like Us

This has been a solid year for concerts, to say the least.  I've seen a lot of good bands, and had a few double weekends.  Before this past weekend, I already had four weekends with back-to-back concert nights:  the Weekend of Metal in February; Jim Gaffigan in Ft. Wayne one night and Andrew W.K. in Chicago the next night at the end of March; Scorpions and Tesla followed by The Hives in June; and Lollapalooza in August.  This weekend might have taken the cake (no pun intended, as Cake was in Chicago Thursday, although I did not see them). 

Friday night was Kiss and Mötley Crüe, both of whom I've seen before in separate arenas.  The show was at the First Midwest Bank Amphitheatre, down in Tinley Park.  To remedy the long drive, the fine co-owner of Rocks (who is a giant Kiss fan) rented a limo bus to take us (him included) to and fro.  There were nine of us -- including Gregerson, Daniel, Chris, and Allison -- on a 29-seat bus, which was nice.  To make it better, there was a DVD player on the bus, so we watched Kissology on the way there and back.  There is simply no other way to live.

Both bands put on great shows.  Tommy Lee, who has a history of doing crazy shit with his drum kit, has his drums attached to a small rollercoaster loop that he used for a couple songs, playing while going sideways around the loop.  Presumably, he then banged a lot of chicks.  Kiss is, well, Kiss.  They have been putting on one of the best live rock and roll shows for over 35 years.  Pyrotechnics, spitting fire, spitting blood, levitating band members, confetti.  It was all there.  Sure, I would have liked them to play a full show, but that's what happens with a co-headlining tour.  Unfortunately, when I try to take pictures with my camera phone of shows with a lot of lights and such, it ends up looking like a giant fireball, so I didn't get any great pictures.  Here are a couple, though, including one of the available wireless networks, as well as a video of part of their famous intro and part of "Rock and Roll All Nite":

We took the bus back to Rocks, where we sang some karaoke (I may have performed an version of "Strutter" that has since been called both impassioned and poignant) and debated what constitutes a power ballad.  My friends, "Beth" is a ballad, not a power ballad.  Here is a shot of George, Chris, and I after getting back to Rocks, just before we started spitting blood on everyone in the bar.  Everyone.

It would take a lot to top Friday night, but a man from New Jersey whose younger sister was Angela "The Angel of Death" Baker in Sleepaway Camp 2 and 3 was up to the task.  Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band played two sold-out shows at Wrigley Field, Friday and Saturday, bringing his message of hope and unlimited promise to a stadium synonymous with despair and unmitigated failure.  I have never seen Springsteen before, and obviously, his live shows are legendary for being long and full of energy.  The Boss did not disappoint.

Joining me was Jester, Chandler, Lisa, and Daniel.  We had seats in the first section of the stands, so we were just above field level, which was nice.

For a man who is nearly 63, Springsteen plays like he's still 23.  The show was phenomenal.  The comfort with which he plays in front of 40,000 people is amazing.  Sure, he's been playing to crowds that large for almost 40 years, but as soon as he steps on stage, you get the feeling that he has never just gone through the motions.  He played for over three hours, playing a great mix of old and new.  (Here is the set list.)  Tom Morello came out and played five songs with the band (with his "Arm the Homeless" guitar).  Eddie Vedder came out to sing "My Hometown" and "Darkness on the Edge of Town" with Springsteen.  Pretty sweet.

During "Waitin' on a Sunny Day," he brought a little girl who was probably 8 or 9 onstage to sing with him, which is both good and bad.  Good because the kid got to be onstage with Bruce Springsteen and sing before 40,000 people.  Bad because she will never top that experience.

About two hours into the show, it started to rain (and continued to rain for the rest fo the show).  Not missing a beat, as soon as the rain started, the band left the stage and Springsteen sang a solo acoustic version of CCR's "Who'll Stop the Rain?"  The answer was "no one," but that didn't stop anyone from having a good time.  The band and Morello came back out, powering through "Ghost of Tom Joad," "Badlands," and "Thunder Road" to finish out the first set.  Here's a shot of the stage after the rain started coming down, as well as rain-soaked shots of Lisa and Jester (who, for some reason, was wearing a hijab) and the three dudes:

For the encore, the house lights came up, and the place went ballistic.  The rain only made everyone stronger and more excited.  There were men in their sixties taking their shirts off.  "Born to Run" sent the place into an expected frenzy, followed by my favorite Springsteen song, "Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)," which I was excited to hear.  Here are some clips of each.  Unfortunately, the storage on my phone is almost full, so I couldn't tape the whole songs, but you get the point:

During "Dancing in the Dark," Springsteen brought a woman up on the stage, just like in the now-classic music video.  Courtney Cox, she was not, however.  She didn't know how to do Cox's dance from the video, and was quickly escorted back to the crowd, where she would have undoubtedly been burned to death had it not been raining.  You can't start a fire without a spark, people.

In perhaps the highlight of the show, during "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out," Springsteen was out in the crowd on a little side stage.  After the line "When the change was made uptown / And the big man joined the band," he looked back towards the main stage, the band went silent, and there was a video montage tribute to Clarence Clemons, who died last year after suffering a stroke.  For those who don't know, Clemons was the E Street Band's longtime tenor saxophonist and one of Springsteen's best friends.  "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" is about how Springsteen and Clemons ("the big man") met.  He's the guy Bruce is leaning up against on the iconic Born to Run album cover.  It was a nice moment.

Finally, the band, plus Vedder and Morello, ended the show with "American Land," and everyone's religious experience ended shortly after the eleven o'clock noise ordinance curfew kicked in.  Springsteen presumably packed his guitar into his old, beat-up Chevy van and drove back to his two-bedroom home in Jersey, getting back just in time for first shift at the mill Sunday morning.

We headed down Sheffield to Dark Horse, which was relatively empty when we got there and slammed within fifteen minutes.  Jester and I lost several team members there, but were not daunted, so we headed to the Burwood Tap, where I played only awesome music on the jukebox.  Because that's what I do.  A trip to Bamba's was necessary for some of the members of our party, but I somehow managed to refrain.  The Boss and several gallons of beer filled me up enough.

Sunday, Jester and I picked up the girls (who my mom and aunt had been watching Saturday, so that Jester and I could celebrate Springsteen without children) and headed to a friend's house for a party for the Bears/Colts game.  The Bears' 41-21 victory was particularly vindicating, given that a certain good friend of mine who is a big Colts fan and shall remain nameless declared in the preseason that the Colts have a more NFL-ready quarterback than the Bears.  Not quite.

After returning home, I spent the remainder of the day watching my free day of NFL Red Zone on DirecTV, immersing myself in the joys of fantasy football, and cursing people I've never met.