A Momentary Lapse of Hearing

Saturday night was extraordinary for my son and I. He has frequently brought up to me that I should take him to a concert of his choice. I must confess my reluctance to attend any more concerts than I already have. So, I put off taking my son to a concert until an act rolled into town which I knew we both could enjoy and one worthy of the typical high ticket prices of today. This past Saturday night, right on the eve of Reformation Sunday, three acts were scheduled to play at a single venue which satisfied that requirement. I purchased the tickets and we planned a father/son day together to go listen to Thin Lizzy, Black Label Society and the headliner, Judas Priest. 

Reformation Sunday Eve came and I rolled out of bed groaning to myself over what I had gotten into. Part of me, the 47 year old part, wasn't looking forward to spending five to six hours being hammered by Metal. I haven't listened to live Metal since the 1990s and my ear drums were thanking me for that. However, the "metal head" part of me was very excited. I have been a fan of Judas Priest and Thin Lizzy since I was a teenager my son's age. I still "rock out" to my Judas Priest collection when I know am going to be on my feet working for a few hours straight. It helps melt away time and otherwise takes my mind off of the work at hand.

Most importantly though, I was really excited about being the person taking my son to his very first major concert. The bands who played are not amateurs in any sense of the word. All three acts are top notch and know how to put on a show, or at least they should know how by now.

I knew what I was up against. I wasn't looking forward to having only four or five hours of sleep on my pillow come Reformation Sunday morning, but it was time to "suck it up" and head out the door. My son and I were on a mission to have a fantastic day and God blessed us with such a day.

My son had me in tow and we were off to downtown Seattle. After finding some free parking, which I was frankly amazed we found any free parking, we walked to the International District to hunt down some good grub. No, I am not talking about insect larva. I am talking about excellent Asian cuisine which can be found at little store front restaurants peppered all over this Seattle neighborhood. After discussing with my son what food he wanted and hearing the words "I ain't hungry dad"—uh, right, a sixteen year old who isn't hungry—I chose a Taiwanese restaurant I was introduced to years ago. It is the only place I know in town that serves excellent congee, or rice porridge, amongst many other great dishes. I don't even know the name of the restaurant, and every time I have gone to eat there I have been the only person in the place who couldn't speak a dialect of Chinese. But the food there is superb. 

My son and I was seated at a small table and given well used menus. I was surprised that the menus had changed, they had actually translated the Chinese into English. The last time I ate there the menu hadn't been translated into English and I had to intently listen to my waitress' broken English in order to make heads or tales of what it was I was ordering. I remember giving up and just pointing at something on the menu and being pleasantly surprised with my guessing.

Barbecue Pork Noodles

We ordered two dishes and shared them. When the food arrived at the table my son had "miraculously" found his appetite. We gobbled down a tasty barbecue pork and rice dish along with a spicy hot shredded pork and noodle dish that was the best I have had in a very long while. As we ate we chatted and watched as a Dim Sum cart was rolled around. At a large family table behind us were patrons "chowing down" on barbecue chicken's feet, rice buns, and wide assortment of dumplings. They had ordered the Dim Sum service which is basically "all you can eat." We didn't order Dim Sum because we knew that we were going to be spending a couple hours in line and then would possibly be on our feet for another five or more hours listening to music if we didn't choose to sit down in the theater seating sections of the theater where the concert was being held. The wheels of a Dim Sum cart clattered as it was pushed past our table. Wisps of steam trailed behind it as well as tantalizing smells arousing more than curiosity, but our appetites. It was time to trek over to the theater and stand in line, tickets in hand.

We weren't the first in line. We had a good three hours to go before the doors opened up for general admission seating. Understandably many people arrived at the venue quite early, since this was "first come first serve" seating and/or standing. If you wanted to get a coveted place on the rail directly in front of the stage, that meant being one of the first hundred or so in the line. Unless of course you are one who is into "moshing" and then you may not have to worry about your place in line. Those who "mosh" simply push their way to the front of the stage and sometimes do so violently. 

The number of middle aged men standing in line patiently waiting their turn into the concert outnumbered young men and teens eager to watch a bunch of men in their sixties bang out loud tunes which have vibrated and "thumped" many heads for decades and often to the annoyance of many parents yelling "Turn that noise down!" As I stood in line with my son, we chattered with other older "metal heads," affectionately exchanging stories about concerts we had attended in  years since gone by and almost giggling like children about how we escaped permanent ear-drum damage from the "gnarly tunes" which "really cranked out" in our day. This evening was to be no different. It turns out that forty year old Metal bands are just as loud as they were in their hey-day. My ears are still ringing... why did I forget my ear plugs? Stupid of me.

The line started trickling forward and soon my son and I were rewarded for being early birds. We walked right up at the front of the stage, just an arm's length from the black steel rail there to keep eager fans away from both the stage and those who were to entertain us for the evening. Our proximity also meant that we were prime targets of "moshing" and I explained that to my son whom to his credit wanted the full experience. I was hoping dear old dad's descriptions from past experiences would have been enough to scare him into wanting to sit up in the seated areas, but alas he is a chip off the old block. I was about to get my work out for the day, thank the Lord for Ibuprofen.

Scott Gorham of "Thin Lizzy"

The band "Thin Lizzy" was up first and played their classic hits "The Boys are Back in Town," "Jail Break" and several others. Us "old guys" enthusiastically sang along with the band while the younger set were "warmed up" for the next act. I watched Scott Gorham masterfully play his Gibson Les Paul Custom nearly as he did back in the late 70s. Although, at times he noticeably tired and I think I detected some of the younger people watching closely to see if he might break something as he arthritically moved around the stage. The passage of time and mortality was on display.

"Thin Lizzy" played their final song of the evening and the curtain closed. The next act was up and the air noticeably changed. I took a moment to look behind me, which I hadn't done since the concert began, and the crowd had gotten denser. Those who would be "moshing" had pushed their way forward and I felt that the next band, Black Label Society, would bring with it a "work out" that Richard Simmons could not imagine. This wouldn't be "Sweating to the Oldies," but would be something like swimming in a sea of Metal fans pressing physical boundaries towards the breaking point, all for a chance to be up front and center of the stage. 

Black Label Society churned out their grinding sound of primeval drumming, blistering guitar licks, and piercing vocals which pushed the crowd back and forth like a massive tidal force. Bodies pressed hard against sweaty bodies as those at the black rail in front of the stage gallantly resisted the onslaught from behind. Energetic pushing and relentless pressure forward moved with the staccato of the music ripping through our ears.

The final act took the stage. By the time Rob Halford of Judas Priest began to warm up his vocal chords the masses in front of the stage were a perspiring lot reeling to and fro with every note alighting from the fingers of veteran guitarist Glen Tipton and the latest band member, Richie Faulkner on lead guitar. As it turns out veteran lead guitarist, K.K. Downing quit the band right before this last tour for Judas Priest set out for the road. I suppose the old man had had enough. I can't say that I blame him.

I'm surprised I got this shot with my phone!

Heads "banged," fists shook in the air to the beat, and all of us croaked out the words to vintage Priest tunes such as "Breaking the Law," "Hell Bent for Leather," and the ever popular and timely "Electric Eye." Two faux-curtain closes with subsequent protests and chants of "Priest! Priest! Priest!" brought aging Rob Halford out from behind a curtain to the roar of his now famous motorcycle. The hands of my watch had been moving along its face as usual, but time seemed to have sped up and before I knew it I was enjoying the last song of the night's act. Yes, the last song of the last concert Judas Priest will play in Seattle: "Living After Midnight."

Thankfully most of the band members of Judas Priest are in their sixties and maybe because of that they aren't "living after midnight" anymore. The curtain closed shortly after 11:00 PM and my son and I used what energy we had left and hurried out to our car for the short ride home. Along the way home we began talking up what will no doubt become a lasting memory for the both of us. This will certainly be one Reformation Sunday Eve to remember.