This concert really ‘Bodyrocks’
Want to feel really old? I mean, like, “suck-in-your-gut-buy-a-sports-car-have-a-mid-life-crisis” old?Go to a rock concert these days.Actually, they don’t even call them “rock” concerts these days. All the shows are a fair or a fest and have some commercial underlying theme (and slews of fat-cat corporate sponsors).In my day, everything had to have “rock” in the title to be successful: “Monsters of Rock,” etc. Not anymore. While rock-n-roll may never die, the term does seem to be out of fashion.My wife and I went to the Area 2 tour in Denver last weekend, a weird amalgam of disparate musical styles that included Moby, David Bowie, Busta Rhymes and Blueman Group, among others.I, obviously, was there for Bowie, the alt-rock god who has invented more genres than Moby can ever hope to sample in a lifetime. Busta I could take or leave, since I haven’t really been a big rap fan after Run-D.M.C. ripped off Aerosmith.Moby, a glorified DJ who fancies himself a spaceman, has some catchy tunes, but I didn’t have high expectations for his live show. In fact, I didn’t really have any expectations at all.Bowie and I, however, have history. When his Let’s Dance album came out in 1983 the year I, gasp, graduated from high school I went to see legendary blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan for $5 at the old Rainbow Music Hall in Denver, because I heard he played guitar on that album.I didn’t see Bowie for another five years the Glass Spider tour with Peter Frampton (another FM rock god) but I was blown away.I was equally impressed at the man’s sense of theater last Saturday, but the kids (and I do not use that term loosely) around us scattered like the wind, apparently thinking they’d stumbled upon some washed-up Vegas lounge singer. So while they all fled to the techno tent, my wife and I “rocked” out like the pair of aging yuppies that we are.I flashed back on a scene from 1981 when I was 16 and went to a Rolling Stones show in Boulder. Mick was only, like, 50 back then. I remember being sneered at by some burly, gray-brearded bikers for being a teenie-bopper (I’m lucky that’s all they did remember Altamont?).So I didn’t get offended when the next generation didn’t “get” Bowie. Instead we stayed for Moby, and I’ve got to say, he truly “rocked.”
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