Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 25th Anniversary, Night 2, 10/30/09.
There was this wave of faith and hope and exuberance that was a direct output of the wave of energy caused by the turn the tour took once it hit Giants. I didn’t own tickets to Philly; I had tickets to two Giants shows (instead of just a sensible one) just because of the usual JLM chicanery with when the last show would be, exactly. And then the albums were announced and suddenly we all had to be there and my apartment became a hotel and I was running off to Philly on a school night twice in one week like I was in college or something.
It was because of all of that that we took the leap and spent more money than we should have (but far far less than face) for these tickets in the 13th row on the floor for this night. It was extravagant, sure, a little crazy, definitely; in my mind it made up for us being too poor to even consider the cheapest ticket for the Darkness show at the Basie (we were so poor there was a discussion of pooling resources to buy one ticket so I could see it, and although I never would have agreed to such a thing, even that was beyond our means at the time).
Running around like a crazy woman meant I wasn’t reading the internet - and I don’t hang out in Bruce spaces anyway - and I had no idea that all of this was foretold weeks ago. You know what? I’m glad I didn’t know, that I didn’t have an inkling, that AT&T service was jammed so no one could tweet and spoil it for me, that I got to have THAT MOMENT of Bruce and Patti walking onstage together, the one I didn’t get to have because I wasn’t allowed to go see the Patti Smith Group at the Palladium on New Years’ Eve, when Bruce showed up for the encore. (I have settled so many of these old scores recently.) It is very rare these days to have a moment where there is so much happiness concentrated in one millisecond that you don’t know how you can stand it, how you can be so lucky, how serendipity and good fortune have blessed you so. I shot video because I knew I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.
Patti coming to the edge of the stage and waving at the audience, just like she does at her own shows, me waving like a crazy woman in the 10th row (Jake Clemons and Curtis were in those seats and went up to sit with Roy’s wife, so we knew we could take them). The performance being a little bit — okay, a LOT — of a trainwreck, everyone singing their own versions of a song they have made their own over the years. It didn’t matter, clams and bum notes and Patti looking sheepish (but with the biggest grin in the world on her face) and watching Edge and Bruce and Bruce and Bono and Bruce and Patti and Larry Mullen Jr. looking like it was Christmas day.
And then Bruce and U2. It was that thing that you want but never think you’re going to have, that there was no way I would ever be in the same place at the same time when that happened, it was a combination that was very much on the bucket list but in the “probably not going to happen” column. I could deconstruct the performance (and have already done that) and although I could have wished for so much more, what there was was enough.
(We would need that goodwill to carry us through once the Black Eyed Peas walked onto the stage. There is still a lot of anger in many quarters over that abomination.)
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