Rockin' Redux

So, a funny thing happened at the Nickelback concert on Saturday night. My fantabulous brother and I went to it and--just like all the shows we've gone to together before--it was fun, fascinating and a chance for two reasonably mature siblings to act like the kinda reckless teens we never were.

This concert also happened to be especially LOUD, owing to the fact that both opening acts, as well as Chad Kroeger and the guys, really didn't skimp on the whole amplification thing. They made no apology for the soaring decibel levels. In fact, Nickelback came prepared to, and I'm quoting directly here, "blow shit up." They were as good as their word. Nothing short of onstage fireworks would please those Canadian boys, and the crowd (most especially the very drunk forty-something couple behind us) yelled their appreciation at every possible opportunity.

My ears were ringing all night (or "all f*cking night," as Chad would've said), and even residually into the next day. I hadn't experienced this degree of hearing impairment since Def Leppard's "Pyromania" tour in 1984. But that was okay because I had a seriously great time. Even though I hadn't had anything more substantial to drink than a Diet Sprite at dinner. Even though I found it ceaselessly amusing that so many people--a number of them way older than my bro and I, BTW--were jumping up and down with "devil fingers" (index + pinky) in the air, in time to the beat of every tune, and I'd have to periodically mimic them. Even though I knew only half of the Nickelback songs (but the half I knew were awesome!), and I knew none of the songs by opening acts Saving Abel and Seether.

Well, I should say, all but one.

In an uncharacteristically slow set for Seether, the lead "vocalist" (and I use that term with some caution), along with the group's lead guitarist, performed a tune that made my brother say, "Hey, I know this one."

And I got all excited because for, like, an hour already I hadn't known the lyrics to anything. So, I listened more carefully and said, "OMG! I know it, too. It's...it's...'Careless Whisper'?! Can that be right?"

My brother and I stared at each other in shock as Seether guy belted out, "I'm never gonna dance again, guilty feelin', I got no rhythm..."

And I stopped giggling and pointing my devil fingers at the stage long enough to sing along.

Damn. 1984 was a good year. Or, alternately, "a good f*cking year."

And the joy of great music never loses it's allure, does it? No matter what decade...