overlap

Ten days out is nothing over twenty years, I reckon, and that's how long it is since a much younger incarnation of me headed off to the big city. First ever trip to London completely on my own, having caught the train to Wembley once with a school friend of mine, and been driven once to Hammersmith - see the recent Magnum post. I hadn't particularly planned to go, but I knew someone that knew someone who was one of a bunch of people who had bought tickets together, one of whom couldn't go. So I was invited to take up the spare ticket at a bargain price so the non-attender didn't lose out, and having nothing else to do that weekend, it seemed like something to take a chance on. With everything I've seen since, it's fair to say I don't remember an awful lot about it, and while I could dig out my diary and see what it says, I'm happy remembering having a great time just enjoying the show. With nobody else to worry about, no separation anxiety at finding each other again after hour long trips to the toilet in the middle of 70,000 people and so on, it was a fabulously liberating experience. I particularly remember an already sweaty Bruce leaning over to wipe his face, and a great spray of sweat and water flicking off his hair as he stood up again - the sort of iconic image that lingers long in the mind. My subsequent memories are coloured by the fact BBC Radio1 broadcast the Stockholm show from that tour, and over repeated listening to the tape of that - which I have on once again as I type - that has probably overwritten most of Wembley beyond that one flinging sweaty hair moment. But then I was young enough not to really have much of an idea what sort of figure Bruce Springsteen is in the world of music, and I didn't really care, I was just taking a chance and seeing what he was like. I saw him again just a handful of years ago, again in London, but with a lot more living under my belt, and plenty on my mind at that time, and by a combination of factors ended up getting there late enough that most of what I recall was seen on a screen, standing on tiptoes, so it's fair to say it wasn't really enjoyed at its greatest. Face value for the Wembley ticket was £17.50 and I paid £12. And about to go in my pocket and take me somewhere towards the front of the crowd to see Bruce Springsteen And The E Street Band once again, is another ticket rather like it. This one cost £55 plus about a tenner in spurious parasite fees, but at least it's a little closer to home this time. He may have been born in the USA, but here he comes again, rocking all over the world!

Labels: Bruce Springsteen, gigs, Wembley