Too Old to Rock and Roll
I'm almost ashamed to tell you the year I attended my first rock concert. Let's just say Elton John still had a full head of hair. And it was pink.
Concert-going was a big part of my social life when I was in my 20's, especially after I landed a job in radio, which didn't pay much but came with some very nice perks: Tickets to see some of the hottest acts in town, in the best seats — even backstage passes and invitations to the after-party. Best of all, attendance was not only part of doing my job; everything was FREE, even down to the three drink minimums at nightclub performances. I could have gone on like that forever, except for this: You can't pay your bills with free concerts and parties... and around the age of 30, I realized that I no longer related to the same music 14-year-old boys were buying. To be honest, I had gotten to the point where I'd realized that there was life beyond the Billboard Hot 100. I guess you could say I'd finally grown up.
And once I finally embraced my adult responsibilities (and got off the record company gravy train), concert going became a distant memory. Eventually, with a mortgage to pay and a child to raise, I couldn't stand the thought of shelling out top dollar for a decent seat — even if the performer was one I loved.
My sister and friends, on the other hand, did not do time in the music industry — and don't share my reluctance to purchase concert tickets. Every once in a while, one of them will convince us to join them and see one of the major artists of our youth: the Moody Blues, the Who, the Eagles, and most recently, James Taylor and Carole King. And once I'm out there, looking around at the audience, I'm struck by one thing:Continued on the next page