What if you can’t remember the best show you ever went to?  

by hardrockchick [about 1 year, 5 months ago.]

I was a not so sweet 16 years old. It was summer in Texas, and somehow, my parents agreed to let me go see White Zombie and Pantera. Hell, they even bought me general admission tickets since I didn’t have a credit card. I honestly don’t know how I finagled this, as my attempts to see NIN and Manson were thwarted at around the same time. Perhaps it’s because Pantera was from Dallas, and Rob Zombie wears a cowboy hat.

My best friend and I went on a random weekday evening, with some of the ‘hottest’ guys from our small town in tow. We drove an hour plus to San Antonio, to a dingy venue called Freeman Coliseum.

I remember that the opening band was called Eye Hate God. Then I’m pretty sure it went White Zombie, then Pantera. I’m pretty sure I was standing in the middle of the floor, getting jostled around by the mosh pit while my crazy girlfriend kept getting in the thick of it. I’m pretty sure they played ‘Thunder Kiss ‘65′. I’m pretty sure I fell in lust with the guitarist, and I know I got my first guitar pick out of it (it is pink). I’m pretty sure that I thought Sean was the coolest chick in the world. I’m pretty sure my guy friends were crowd surfing and kept having to walk around to where I was when they were pulled over the barrier. I’m pretty sure that Pantera was awesome, but I think the only song I remember was ‘Planet Caravan‘, and that’s not good. I definitely don’t remember Dimebag, and that makes me sad.

How can one of the most important shows I ever saw also be one I barely remember? The one that set the tone for my constant quest for the next best show…the one that made me realize that perhaps I didn’t want to be in the band, but rather with the band…the one that whet my appetite for collecting concert memorabilia?

Ludicrous.

I’d blame it on age, but this still happens to me. Seeing Trent Reznor at Bridge School or Manson at The Warfield are blurs of bliss that I somehow managed to write about. But to really remember what it was like, I cannot. Perhaps one really goes into a zone, on another plane in the brain that becomes inaccessible once the event is over. Or maybe I drank too much.

The point is, I maybe not remember every detail, but I’ll never forget that I was there.

Genre(s): Musings

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