Point of View

The Front of the Drums. A Fans View

27 July 2007
Friday
Bitter sweet



Friday had been one of those days that you wish you’d stayed in bed. Although the day tried, the ugliness of the world seemed to over rule the excitement for my newly appointed position at work, and, most importantly, the concert with Rush that evening.
         
I was having silent debates with myself- as I sometimes do-about whether or not I should attend the Rush concert here in Phoenix or just try to make it to Red Rocks, Colorado as originally planned. I had been looking forward to seeing Rush play in the venue Neil Peart has described as “magical” in his book “Roadshow.” He even used a photo of the venue as the cover for the book. The escape from the Arizona heat was worth the trip alone, but this was Rush. Recent changes with my job at the airport would make leaving the state near impossible even if for one day’s time. Our manager had recently quit and accepted a job closer to his home in the north valley. Not long after Eric resigned one of the service technicians decided to quit which left me and one other man to handle a great deal of work. It would be unfair to leave James alone to bear the burden, or so I felt. My true reason was that James lacks the ability to manage without some form of guidance and that concerned me. He is an older black man, a fellow brother Marine, and one of the most soulful men I have ever met. He tends to stray from task very easily, and that can be quite troublesome in our line of work. Despite futile attempts in correcting this behavior I have learned to deal with his shortcomings as best as I can. It’s hard to grow upset with James given his gentle spirit and comical mannerisms. Still, leaving him for such a long period would make me to uneasy to enjoy the trip in the first place.
OK then, it was settled. I would go to the Phoenix show, I agreed with my self inwardly, although I am certain anyone who happened by my office would notice the wry expression and furled brow and realize my conflict. The only thing left was a ticket to the venue. At this late date I wasn’t holding much hope for anything but a lawn seat, but at least that would get me in and able to see the band I had been following since I was a young boy. I logged on to Ticket Master and typed in the necessary information and presto, I had a solid seat. I was surprised at how close I would be seated and thought, “It must be meant to be.” Section 203 at what is now called Cricket Pavilion, in Phoenix. I prefer the old Desert Sky Pavilion name, but who am I? The last time I was there was in 1997 for ironically, Rush. The weather forecast for tonight’s show looked promising, although it’s a rain or shine venue regardless, but section 203 is safely under the enclosed seating area so I should have no problems.     



I was eager to finish out my day at work and get home to change into some suitable concert-going attire. I planned on getting to the venue with enough time to purchase some Rush paraphernalia, get a few bottles of water and perhaps talk one of the sound guys into getting some items signed by the band. Traffic on the I-10 was snarled as usual so to pass the time and avoid any road rage conflicts I broke out my Vader drum sticks and started to practice my paradiddle rudiments on the dash and steering wheel of my truck. Now, I don’t really recommend this type of “careless” behavior while driving, but as I said, it keeps me sane while navigating the congested sprawl of Phoenix. The foot pedals of the truck work wonderful for simulating the foot work needed in drumming. I manage to keep the vehicle on course while using my left knee to steady the wheel which leaves my hands free to “drum” about the cab of the truck. When the time comes to signal a lane change, I will activate the turn signal lever in beat to the music I’m playing or to my rudiments. So, if I’m doing paradiddles, which is a four-beat form of “RLRR” or “LRLL” I will hit the turn signal lever at just the right moment, never missing a beat. There are the times when I am forced to abandon all drumming activities for an evasive maneuver or two, but for the most part I only break out the sticks during slow speed traffic. Nonetheless this must appear very unusual to the passing motorist; this guy drumming out a beat while driving. I argue its much safer then say, texting while driving for my eyes never leave the road. Alas!
I arrived to Cricket Pavilion an hour early and found a parking spot close to the exit for easy access out after the show. Yes, I’m always thinking ahead. The diehard Rush fans where “tailgating” and enjoying the tolerable warmth of the evening. I walked through the gauntlet of parked cars and trucks listening to the “pre-concert” display of Rush tunes blaring from the car speakers. A steady “hum” of excitement hovered in the air and I could tell it was going to be a great crowd for the show. I was forced to be subjected to the venues security “pat-down” before entering the gates. I had the pleasure of being frisked by one of the female guards who did a hasty job at best of insuring everyone’s safety, but I did promises to call her in the morning. One thing I want to know is why the male guards couldn’t pat down the female concert-goers? Hmm, hardly seems fair.
I usually don’t like large crowds and become slightly claustrophobic but I was enjoying the energy as I entered the gates and found my way to the souvenir booth. The line snaked around the booth and across the midway of the court yard as some fans stood on tip toes to get a glimpse of the available “swag.” I spotted the shirt I wanted right away; a depiction of Neil’s hands gently holding a pair of sticks. On the back of the shirt listed the concert tour dates and venues. I also decided to get a copy of the tour book which is normally packed with interesting tidbits of band information and pictures. This copy was no exception. The cover boasted the new album art work on a glossy red stock and hosted a vast collection of photos from the R30 tour. Each musician wrote a little essay to accompany their photo. Alex wrote a piece as only he can, a comical interview of himself, by himself. It is an interesting interaction of words to say the least. Geddy of course speaks of his love of music and his band mates while touching briefly on the newest of their work. And then there is Neil who talks drums while trying to maintain his solitary persona as best he can.

After getting some water, making a “pit” stop and having a Red Apple, I made my way to my seat and got settled in. I had a straight unobstructed view of center stage and I couldn’t have been happier. To my left was the sound mixing boards and camera equipment and to my right, the isle. I sat and read from the book I had with me to kill time before the start of the show. I enjoyed some people watching in between page turns and noticed all the “old” guys, like me, some with their kids in tow clearly trying to pass on the Rush torch to the next generation. There were a large percentage of young people there which surprised me because anytime I mention Rush in mixed company, I get the deer in-the-headlights look and inevitable question, who are they?
The show kicked off right on time as is common with Rush and on a large projection screen behind Neil’s drums a comical movie intro, starring none other than the band, played with dramatic effects and comical satire. Then the first song; “Spirit of Radio” and the crowd came to life. I tried with little success to capture some of the concert on my little cell phone camera but soon abandoned that notion. They played for four hours bringing to life some old favorites as well as many of the new songs from “Snakes and Arrows.” After a thirty minute intermission they returned to a very anxious crowd eager for Neil’s solo performance. As a drummer myself, and only in hobby, I have always been fascinated with Neil’s skill and precision he displays behind the drums. His fresh and innovative compositions have made him a percussion maestro and given many would-be drummers the drive to excel and push their own drumming abilities to the limit. Neil changed his drum solo around and sported a fresh set of drums, shiny and new. He played flawlessly although I am sure he would disagree. Seeing them that night only drove my desire to see them in Colorado the following month. That would never come to pass and I became the proud owner of two unused Rush concert tickets that will forever remain framed in a little corner of my music room. After a very welcomed encore of “YYZ” and “Witch Hunt” the members of Rush waved and wished the crowd a good night then dashed off stage and out of sight. 
The show had come to a speedy but satisfying close and all that remained were the notes floating in my head, forever etched as memories in my cranial archives. I suddenly realized how thirsty I had become and that a slight ache was working its way up my neck and into my head. No doubt some effects from the secondhand smoke of marijuana throughout the concert. Hmm, now I just needed a bag of Cheeto’s to complete my rock concert experience. I remained seated while the heard of people “mooed” their way out to their cars. I wanted to give myself a clear path and avoid any stumbling fans exhibiting their “beer” muscles. This turns out to have been a useless precaution as the Phoenix police had the entire venue closed down to one exit while they performed a car-by-car search for a subject wanted for a felony crime. Some of the fans continued with their tailgate fare while others sat in their cars, slowly jockeying forward in a slow moving precession towards the only available exit. I was among those inching along as I had started feeling nauseous and the ach in my neck had taken full hold over my head. I was growing inpatient by this time as an hour had passed since the end of the show and we were all still in the parking lot. Information on the radio was limited, informing us that a “police incident” was unfolding and to remain clam and cooperative.



Another hour later I was finally on my way home and I couldn’t get there fast enough. It had been a long day full of excitement and of sadness as I silently reflected on the four members of local media that had been killed in a mid-air helicopter collision earlier in the day. From Channel 3, pilot Scott Bowerbank and his photographer Jim Cox and from Channel 15, pilot Craig Smith and his photographer Rick Krolak. They had been covering a police pursuit when they collided over central Phoenix. Yes, Friday might have been better spent in bed as the ugliness of the world had a hold over Phoenix it seemed and the long wait to leave the Rush concert was the result of a police officer loosing his life in the line of duty. Officer George Cortez, a young man, married with two kids. The typical scenario when you hear of these things. It was a bitter-sweet day for me and a rollercoaster of emotions for a city. The pillow looks inviting and I close my eyes on Phoenix saying a silent “thank you” to our newest angels and an end to the day.