Musical Memories
In the drawer by my bed is a bundle. Bound by a bootlace, a collection of concert tickets, musical memories, most of the gigs I’ve ever been to. I’ve never counted them, but there are hundreds. Too many. Sometimes I shuffle through them and one catches my eye, ‘did I go to that?’ I have little recollection of some, others I will never forget. I thought I’d have a go at reconstructing some of those memories, creating a written record of the gigs that still stand out. This will be the theme of my blog posts in the coming weeks.
Some of you shared these experiences, you were there with me. Please feel free to engage, and send me your memories. Music plays such a special part in my life, as I know it does for so many of us. In a consumerist world obsessed with the accumulation of things, some of us prefer to gather experiences. Music is the best of those. Here are some of mine.
My first is Jane's Addiction at the Riverside in Newcastle. I don’t recall the year. 1990 I reckon, but no doubt someone will correct me. I could have googled it, to check. It’s what you do now. I didn’t though, thinking it might somehow tarnish the memory. Perhaps that’s the problem these days. Once we would imagine and reconstruct faded memories in our heads. They would be fluid and evolve, you were never sure what was real. Now the internet allows us to check the facts, to corroborate and establish a different truth. I prefer my own truths, however loose and imprecise. We live as we dream, alone, and my memories are my own. I reserve the right to create and recreate them as I choose. I’ve seen Jane’s Addiction a few times over the years, the most recent a couple of years ago at Manchester Apollo. They are exhilarating to watch, energetic, edgy, tight, visceral. Perry Farrell is one rock’s most compelling frontmen, Dave Navarro the scariest of guitarists. Like all the best partnerships there is a tension, a friction that drives the performance. This first Riverside gig was the best, many of my friends still talk about it. I’m sure it would make the top five of many lists. It was one of those gigs where far more claim to have been there than the venue could allow. You had to have been there, so you were. The truth of memory.
It was the Nothing's Shocking tour, and though there was a buzz around the band they hadn’t taken off yet. They emerged way before grunge and the Seattle sound took over rock and sidelined the hair metal that dominated the eighties. They were rare quality in a sea of mediocrity. They stood the test of time, and those early albums are classics of rock. They offered something fresh and different. They sang about sex, sociopaths, and serial killers. Of summertime and shoplifting. Of the sea and showering. Of power, and pissing on yourself.
The gig was sold out, but the Riverside was a small venue with a feel of exclusivity many of us enjoyed. We were still locked in the mentality of ownership, of secrets, and discoveries. Popularity was not an indication of success, it was the end, a sign band’s had sold out. When the world discovered the music, the band and us lost it. This was a time when Jane’s Addiction were still ours and that night belonged to us.
The performance was stunning. Perry was there, but elsewhere. Draped in coloured dreadlocks, a stoned half smile, jumping from manic dancing to dreamy swaying. I recall him stripping naked. Others have confirmed this. A glorious collective fabrication, not a lie, a memory we have reimagined together. Our different truth. The band encored ‘Jane Says.’ According to indie rock folklore this was a rare occurrence in those early days, a gift reserved for the few, the chosen. We left knowing we had shared something special.
When I listen to Jane’s Addiction it always takes me back to this time, wishing I was young again, sharing these moments with friends. It was a time of freedom and endless possibility. The time before we fragmented and drifted into our own worlds of careers and responsibilities. It was the time when we had so much time, and never realised what a precious thing it was. It was the time when I still thought I could change the world. The time before the world tamed me. Each one of those tickets is a time machine, whisking me back to those special moments. The images are so vivid, the truth of those memories, our memories. I can feel those times, the emotions can still overcome me. We all have those gigs, the experiences we share through music. These are threads that bind us forever.
