why yes, mr. frampton, I like you just fine live

We went to see Peter Frampton and Yes on Friday at the old Garden State Arts Center.

And it was good. Frampton still rocks, despite being balder, but his fingers certainly know how to love on a guitar. Steve Howe, continues to look like a small breeze could topple him, continues to make Starship Trooper glow like sunshine in the air when he plays.

We went with another couple and the evening was fun except for the unruly drunks sitting behind us that decided being at a concert meant conversing loudly at each other continually, until I'd had enough and politely asked them to Please Shut The Fuck Up! People, trying to chat at a concert is really a waste of your time and generally bound to piss someone off. Specifically someone like me, who will tell you when you are being assholes. I came to listen to music not your relationship problems.

Hearing Frampton Live did haul out a few distant memories of my first introduction to his wicked guitar playing. Those memories are hazy from age yet sharply defined for the people coloring them.

I was nine and we were at the house of family friends, where the adults would hang around the dining room table, talking, smoking, having a few drinks. I was left to occupy myself for the few hours we were there because this was my parent’s time and kids back in the 70’s were expected to entertain themselves. I spent a lot of time in my head, crafting stories, imaginary worlds and daydreaming. And being bored out of my mind. There is only so much enjoyment one can get from a pet rock, however. They are notoriously taciturn

My parent’s friends had a daughter, who was quite a few years older than me, and sometimes she took pity on me and let me hover around the edges of her room, talking to me and helping me stave off a few hours of boredom. .

She had just bought the Frampton Comes Alive album earlier that week and asked me if I had heard it yet. Since David Cassidy was my heartthrob du jour, I can’t say I’d even heard of Peter Frampton. I told her no and she asked me in to listen to it.

Donna was your typical 70’s girl. Long straight dark blond hair framing a face still slightly round in the cheeks with these beautiful clear blue eyes that I was insanely jealous of as I was a little on the plump side, had unruly brown hair with plain brown eyes framed by thick glasses. She wore bell bottom jeans, wide white belts and peasant tops. She was cool. I was…not.

And now I was being asked to listen to rock music, in her room. Okay! Life was looking up! Maybe the coolness would rub off.

I sat on the shag carpet in her room, the LP crackling on the turntable before music came pouring through the speakers. I remember looking at the shaggy haired guy on the cover while listening to my first live album. I didn’t like it very much. (You were expecting some epiphany of music enlightenment, weren’t you?) The weird noises his guitar made just didn’t compare to the Bay City Rollers, Shawn or David Cassidy to my mind. I didn’t like the sound of the audience cheering in the background, it was distracting. But I was oh so grateful to be included by her instead of banished to the living room again. I think that made me like Peter Frampton more than the music.

Years down the road, out parents still close friends, Donna got sick. She had been married for just a few years, after being engaged once before and having several on again, off again romances. They had bought their first home, were trying to get pregnant.

It turned out Donna had AIDS, gotten from a previous boyfriend who had used needle drugs. He found out that he had it not long before Donna did and never told anyone. She died not that long after. She was the only child of devoted parents and they were heartbroken.

Donna doesn’t turn up in my memories that often but sitting at the Arts Center, a short distance not far from where I heard it the very first time, listening to Frampton Live, audience cheering in the background, I recalled the day she included a bored young girl in her excitement of a new album. It made me smile and stand up to cheer along to Frampton’s guitar singing Something’s Happening.

Hunky Monkeys

There’s still a loud humming in my ears, muting out certain sounds.

Giggles and I experienced the shock and awe that is the Jonas Brothers concert phenomenon Wednesday night. Because I am that kind of Mom. More importantly, SuperHubby is that kind of Dad, as he procured the tickets. He knows what his little girl loves. And she loves herself some Jo Bro.

As did an arena full of screaming, hyped up, swooning girls. And women, based on some of the outfits we witnessed last night. Giggles pointed out one lady, easily my age, dressed in those super high-cut hip rider shorts, with I heart Jonas Brothers emblazoned across a not insubstantial ass with a glittery skinny tee sporting the boy’s faces stretched across her mighty bosom. Really? That’s what you want to wear out amongst the populace?

Anyway, Giggles? Jacked on high about going to this concert. After we got into our seats, we were entertained by the screaming that commenced every time a Jonas face popped up on the big screen. Giggles is not a concert screamer. She likes to sit back, tap her feet, sing the songs and enjoy the spectacle. She finds the mindless screaming very entertaining, and mostly annoying.

Slurping watered down Pepsi, we discussed the appeal of the Jonas boys.
Me: Nick’s my favorite; he’s got those intense, smart eyes.
Giggles pondered for a moment. He was mine for a while, but Joe’s taken his place.
Me: Yeah? Why’s that?
Giggles: He’s edgier and dangerous. And he has a face that an angel created.
Me: Have you been reading my romance novels?

Three teenage girls and a woman filed past us to their seats next to ours, as we waited for the show to begin. Immediately after taking in the view, one of the girls whined to her mother, “Dad said these were amazing seats!”
Another one, no shit, stamped her foot. “These are in the last row!”
“We can’t see the screen!” another bitched. I wanted to ask whether they came to see hear the music or watch TV.
The Mom responded by saying as soon as they sat down they would call Dad and tell them the seats were awful. Then she began plotting with the girls how they would move down closer once the show started. Umm, sold out show, good luck with that. (They didn't have any luck with that.)

My girl’s response when we got to our last row seats and she took in the view?
“Wow, what a great view of the stage!” She’s so amazing.

There were two opening acts, Honor Society and Jordin Sparks. I’ve never heard of them, so Giggles gave me the details with only mild eye rolling for her out of touch Mom. She wasn’t that thrilled with Honor Society, so I asked her why.

I came to see the Hunky Monkey’s, she replied. And then giggled uproariously at the look on my face.

Jordin Sparks has some serious lungs on her and I swear I will never know how these women shimmy, strut and bounce across a stage on 4-inch spike heels. It defies the natural order of things, I tell you.

Then the Jo Bro show began. The screaming volume intensified so much that I was afraid my glasses would shatter and my ears begin to bleed. Holy Jesus, the screaming overwhelmed the music for a while.

Giggles sang to herself, wiggled a bit in her seat along to the music and stared avidly at the stage, obsorbing every detail and smiling as her favorite songs began, such as Love Bug. She was a pleasure to watch, as she watched.

The detractors can say what they will about the Jonas Brothers being a phenomenon of fluff, but the machine that swirls around these boys is pretty impressive. The stage show was really well done and innovative, with a water curtain displaying words and designs, elevating stages, water hoses, and lights galore. Their songs certainly appeal to the masses and they are committed to the concerts being satisfyingly memorable.

I’m glad I got to share it with my daughter.

Can you take me High Enough

I love Styx and had the biggest crush, or obsession depending on your point of view, on Tommy Shaw when I was 14. Really, that soulful expression, those dreamy blue eyes, feathered blond hair and skin suits. Hey! It was the 80's people and kept my newly hormonal fantasies churning. I remember trading one of my prized David Bowie albums for Cornerstone when I was 15. Boat on the River? One of the best songs ever. Which I listened to over and over while gazing at the posters of Tommy I had pinned up all over my bedroom walls that year. Even now if Renegade come on the radio or is the next song on the CD, I make everyone in the car shut up and I crank the volume. Priorities.

We are off to see Styx next month at the GARDEN STATE Arts Center with Boston opening for them. How weird is that lineup? SuperHubby gave me tickets for my birthday. This will be fun!

Despite my adolescent love and deep seated desire for all things Tommy Shaw and Styx when I was a teenager, I was never able to see them in concert back when they were out touring some awesome new album. Last August, they happened to be on a tour with Foreigner and Def Leppard. We got some tickets and off we went with the kids. Oh it was awesome to hear those songs live but the sound stage was meant for Def Leppard, who was the headliner, so the music was okay but left me feeling eh. I wanted to more Styx.

The very next, SuperHubby and Ace headed out to Pittsburgh on a birthday baseball trip to see the Mets play. Turns out there is something called SkyBlast in Pittsburgh every year with fireworks and concerts. One of those nights Styx was playing. SuperHubby and Ace were blown away with how great they were, how awesome the sound was, how rockin' the band was, and long they played. Which they told me about on the phone the next day while my innards twisted with envy and my teeth ground as I held myself back from yelling "ENOUGH ALREADY. They were great and I'M happy for you now shut up." This was purely because hey!, Big Styx fan left at home, didn't get to see the awesome rocking long concert.

My boys did redeem themselves however. When they came home they couldn't wait to show me the pictures they got of Tommy, JY, Chuck and the rest of the band as they came through the stadium vestibule out onto the stage and then back again after the show. And then they showed me the big surprise, which they had not shared on the phone, Ace was able to get the entire band to sign a baseball and a High Five from Tommy. Tommy Shaw high fiving my son's hand is almost, almost, as good as if he had touched mine. That degree of separation thing, flesh of my flesh, you know. So I didn't give them the silent treatment for getting to see such an awesome show without me and then raving about on the phone. Besides, Ace is a huge Styx fan now and listens to them all the time. It's good to pass down the legacy.

One of my Christmas presents from SuperHubby was tickets to see Styx at the BergenPAC center in January. That also more than made up for not getting to touch Tommy Shaw's hand and get to see them up close and personal as the boys did. And they do rock the house when it's set up for them and the songs I love so much are played so well. I still love Styx, though the obsession with Tommy has faded some and I have yet to cry out his name in the throes.

I did recently purchase a Damn Yankee CD to round out the Tommy Shaw music collection however.