Tom and I attended an Eagles concert in Dallas last night. Say what you will about The Eagles, their performance was professional without seeming canned, which is a talent in itself (unlike a Bob Seger concert I saw years ago that Seger could’ve phoned in – he seemed *that bored*). The band played all their old hits, to the audience’s delight. The band’s patter, while rehearsed, seemed genuine. This was their third show in Dallas in less than 6 months – the band can still draw. They could probably book another show in 6 months and sell that out, as well.
I enjoyed the people-watching opportunity pre-show. Gathered together were basically the same bunch of people who would have attended the same show 30 years ago, and indeed, many had. We’re all older, fatter and greyer, but still standing. That’s a victory in my book, kids.
And guess what! The same blond bimbo who sat in front of me 30 years ago at concerts was there! You know the one … the girl at the concert with ants in her pants who drinks too much, dances on her seat, disrupts the show for everyone, and basically acts the fool, only now, she has a cell phone to f**k with as well! She spent inordinate amounts of time filming bad concert footage with her smart phone, making out with her husband/boyfriend, gyrating wildly, and borderline ruining my concert experience. I felt the same irrational desire to hip-check her now, as I did then.
I overhead many people excitedly recalling attending Eagle’s concerts during their ’75-’76 tours. One guy behind us was telling a funny story about how, in Dallas in 1976 while hanging out in the parking lot post-show, a long black limo pulled alongside their group. The tinted window cracked open. A face with dark sunglasses (presumably an Eagle) eyeballed one of the women in the group and drawled, “Hey baby, want a ride?” The husband of said woman got a bit bent out of shape and told off Mr. Sunglasses. The window rolled up, and the limo departed. Another guy in the group said, “Hey man, one of the Eagles thought your wife was hot! Let her have that, man!” They all laughed at the memory.
Unfortunately, I was too young to attend one of their concerts in 1976, and by the time I was old enough, the group had broken up and would remain so for the next 14 years. This was an opportunity to hear the music I’d been hearing on the radio for years, live and in person.
Before the show, I kept looking around at everyone. I wistfully told Tom, “I wish I had a magic something-or-other that could, for one single moment, give me a flash of how we all looked 30 years ago.” Then, during the concert, Timothy B. Schmidt was speaking to the audience and at one point, directed the house lights to be shown to the left, right, back, and floor areas of the concert hall. As the lights illuminated each section of the house, the audience stood and cheered and waved. And for one brief, shining moment, in the glaring spotlight, the years dropped away, and I saw us as we looked so many years ago, young and free, screaming in delight for our favorite band. It was magic.