When tornado warnings popped up on the evening of May 20, I knew the bucket I use for my bucket list sprung a leak. The AC/DC concert at Nissan Stadium in Nashville was cancelled. Something I’d wanted to do for so long and was within reach had been stolen.
Until it wasn’t. Moments later, I received a text that the concert was postponed until the next evening. That was the good news. The bad news was that Barb had to teach her weightlifting class and couldn’t go. That meant I would go alone which seemed weird. Barb didn’t really want to see AC/DC. She’s more into Ed Sheeren and Taylor Swift. Which is why we rarely attend concerts together. I told her I would cancel but she told me to go without her. I was secretly ecstatic.
So, at 3PM the next day I load up the car and headed to Nashville. I reserved a parking spot in a structure about ¾ of a mile from the stadium. That means I get to walk through the circus that is Lower Broadway. Nashville is the self-proclaimed bachelorette party capitol of the country. They earned that reputation. The streets are lined with multi-story honky tonks and party busses and pedal taverns navigate around tourists in Morgan Wallen shirts. It’s part Times Square, Orlando, Florida, and Hee Haw. Loud music and the loud laughs and screams of drunk young women permeate everything. When I used to travel for business, I’d often board flights home to Nashville on Friday evenings and usually at least one bachelorette party was on board. Once, the group was so rowdy, they got kicked off the plane before we pulled back from the gate at BWI.
I pass through the crowds and look at my GPS for directions. I should just follow the crowd. They’re easy to spot. People as old as early 70s wearing AC/DC shirts with many sporting battery-powered devil horn that flash red. I make it to the stadium about 25 minutes later, walk up to the top concourse and get a double Maker’s Mark on a rock and process what’s about to happen.
Seven hours later, I crawl into bed, my ears still ringing from the loud music. But it’s a satisfying feeling. Before I fall asleep, I think about the evening and reflect on the things I learned and observed.
We Sold Our Soul for Rock and Roll.
Well, we didn’t actually, but it was what I was taught to believe. Growing up in the church and in Christian schools all the way through high school, I was taught that rock music was satanic. It all started when I was in the sixth grade and KISS was all the rage. It was the music and the blood spurting and fire breathing and of course the devil horn sign you make when you hold out your hand and pull down your middle and ring fingers. In high school, we had a speaker named Bob Beamon who did a multi-media presentation at our high school on how evil rock music was. KISS, Alice Cooper, and of course, AC/DC, they of the lightening bolt that Beamon characterized as the “satanic S.” I suspect this was the album cover that made everyone so uncomfortable. I suppose you can see why:
The thing was, most of that satanic stuff was hype, amped up to sell albums. And it worked. So well that some churches held record destruction events. I know. I attended one. There was a sense of urgency. These were the “end times” and Satan was hard at work.
But 43 years later, most of those bands are retired or dead. Some are still active but the “satanic panic” as it was known has subsided. It was never more evident as I saw grandparents and their kids and grandkids all wearing the lighted devil horns, walking into the concert together. Maybe Lawrence Welk was the real satanist all along. I certainly felt tortured when my grandma would make me watch his show with her.
Exercise Has a Purpose. You probably know I’m a fan of walking. Fast walking to my son Dustin’s house music mixes. Over the past two years I’ve dropped about 50 lbs. due to testosterone therapy, eating healthy proportions, and the walking. Barb keeps telling me start lifting weights, but for some reason, I just don’t have any interest. I loved boxing, but I think the pounding led to my shoulder separations.
But walking is what I love. I get lost in thought and often come back with new story ideas. Plus, it’s just a rush. A constant runner’s high. I guess I didn’t appreciate the other benefits.
Like how it’s no problem to park nearly a mile from the stadium and trudge over the Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge, walk around the stadium, then up the switchbacking walkways to the top concourse. I barely noticed the incline. What I did notice was the amount of people pulling themselves up by the handrails, stopped with their hands down on their knees catching their breath, or puffing like steam engines chugging up a grade. And most of these folks are younger than me.
Maybe that’s a healthy way to look at exercise. I walk fast for cardio benefits, but also so I can walk to a concert without passing out or having a heart attack. Maybe I should listen to myself. I lift weights not to look good in a speedo, I lift weights so I have the strength to pick up my grandkids.
Crowds are Like Chainsaws.
AC/DC were scheduled to go on at 9. By ordnance, all concerts in Nashville have to be done by 11PM. The Pretty Reckless opened, going on at 7PM. The stadium was about ¾ full and not fully amped up. Lead singer Taylor Momsen, sounding a little like Heart’s Ann Wilson did her best to wake the crowd.
“Nashville!!!!” she shrieked.
The crowd responded feebly. Then The Pretty Reckless did their second number.
Again.
“NASHVILLE!!!!”
A little more response. It went on like this for two more songs.
At long last, the crowd woke up. The lights were brighter and the music louder. The Pretty Reckless are pretty good.
Then…
“NASHVILLE!!!!”
And it was on. It reminded me of starting my chainsaw. A few pulls yields nothing.
Then it fires once. Then twice.
At last, it catches. I work the throttle. The engine bogs and then revs up. At last, it goes full speed. The chain whirs and it idles on its own. Time to cut down some trees. Or chase some teenagers off my land.
The crowd was like the chainsaw. And just when it was cutting, The Pretty Reckless ended their set. The lights came up and the magic was gone. But it was fun to see the psychology of group behavior. Or whatever it was I observed.
Know Your Limitations
AC/DC have aged. The only original member, Angus Young is 70. Vocalist Brian Johnson is 77. They say in boxing, the last thing to leave a fighter is his power punch. That holds true with AC/DC. With Johnson, his voice is his power punch. While Bon Scott had raw power, Johnson had the pipes to back it up. Listen to the 1981 version of Hell’s Bells to hear him in his prime.
Some of that power has left. Johnson strained to hit some notes but missed none. The sound engineers compensated by turning up the volume of the instruments to mask it a bit, but he still had it.
Angus Young on the other hand is ageless. Well, at least his guitar playing and stage presence are. He’s a small man, barely 5’2.” In another life, he’d likely be a jockey. Thankfully, he plays guitar. Clad in red shorts, with a shock of white hair, Young bounced around the stage like a man 50 years younger. His ability to still duck walk without blowing out his knees put every other man over 60 in the audience to shame. To spell Johnson some time to rest his voice, Young performed a 17-minute guitar solo in the middle of Let There Be Rock. I know I preach about the importance of going out on top, but these guys are still on top. And I’m fortunate to have seen them in this prime.
Always Give the People What They Want.
This concert actually supported AC/DC’s 2020 album Power Up. Now I must admit, I’m not a huge fan of that album. It was produced without guitar player Malcolm Young who passed away. I didn’t feel the same soul, even though the hard rock and Johnson vocals were great. That said, the concert included songs from that album including Demon Fire (Bob Beamon is likely hyperventilating at the title of this one) and Shot in the Dark. The crowd cheered, but when more familiar songs started, it was over the top. The clanging bell from Hell’s Bells, the familiar guitar riffs introducing Highway to Hell, and Back in Black. There was no ramping up the crowd. Once the lights went down, the energy went up.
They gave me what I wanted. Two of my favorite tracks were album cuts Whole Lotta Rosie and Have a Drink on Me. I deliberately didn’t look ahead of time to see the set list. I just wanted to be surprised. And I was.
AC/DC traditionally ends their show with For Those About to Rock. It’s one of my favorites and the concerts include cannons. If you want to see, check out their 1991 concert video Live at Donnington. I rarely stay until the end of concerts. The last one was Queen. I had no qualms about leaving early to beat the traffic after seeing One Direction. But I knew I was staying. This trip after all was a bucket list item. I couldn’t possibly miss that song. Even if it I’d be to walking back to my car with a bunch of drunk slowpokes in front of me plus I’d be trapped in the parking garage.
I stayed. And I’m glad I did. The walk was long, and it took an hour to get out of the garage, then another hour to get home. It was so worth it.
Always Listen to 100-Year-Old You.
I learned this from a book by Matthew Dicks entitled Someday is Today. Dicks talks about visualizing yourself at age 100. When you have a decision to make, ask yourself what your 100-year-old future self would say. It’s a great technique. When I almost turned around on my way to my first competitive storytelling gig, 100-year-old Mack set me straight. He did the same thing when I toyed with the idea of being a martyr and not going to see AC/DC. I knew that 100-year-old-Mack would hit me square in the nose with his bony fist for that one. I couldn’t bear to let him down. Old Mack would have told me it was ok to get up and scream the words to Highway to Hell while giving the devil salute with both hands. So, I did. He will be pissed I didn’t drop $25.00 to buy a set of lighted devil horns. I wish I had. If you’ve ever worn a set of mouse ears on your head at Disney, your forfeit the right to judge me. You know who you are.
If you make it to 100, you’ll have some regrets. This is a good way to get around them right now. Living in and for this moment.
And as I finally drift off to sleep, I know Old Mack is very proud of me.