Just Us Nerds

Sept. 29th, 2006
1st Midway Bank Ampitheater
Chicago, Illinois

To quote my friend and future Just Us Nerds contributor Andy, who experienced it with me… we didn’t see a concert. We witnessed an event.

As we were warned by our very tickets themselves, there was no opening act. The show starts at 8 PM sharp. Be there, or be square. While we waited, we were treated to a fascinating, The Wall-inspired multi-media presentation of film on a huge screen… an unseen someone listening to an old-timey radio, smoking, and drinking whiskey. With each puff of the massive celuloid cigarette, dry ice smoke wafted over the crowd. Each time the unseen listener grew bored of the radio station & changed it, a new song played. Everything from Elvis, to Billie Holliday, to Abba’s “Dancing Queen” (which made the giant hand spin the dial rather quickly). It was an excellent way to distract the audience from the comings & goings of the roadies, and a fascinating way to start a show.

Roger took the stage to “In The Flesh?” from The Wall, and, as the song facilitates, he immediately took total control of the venue. He is merely a man… he doesn’t carry the trappings of a rockstar, doesn’t leap about, or parade himself in front of the crowd, or do any of the established front-man “tricks.” He’s just an artist. In a rather subdued suit. Playing his heart out, and playing songs that he has lovingly, menacingly, and expertly crafted over his long career. His voice, which may have lost a bit of it’s range, hasn’t lost an iota of it’s power. He sails across the stage, moving with an easy grace, commanding his bass like a weapon of war, engaged in a battle against the idea of war itself. I do not wish to re-engage the debate here in this post… but, upon seeing the man in concert, it is ridiculous that anyone else is allowed legally to perform these songs under the name “Pink Floyd.”

He moved from “In The Flesh?” to an accoustic version of “Mother.” Then he embarked on a tour of his career, treating us to such gems as “South Hampton Docks,” “Have A Cigar,” the amazing “Perfect Sense Parts 1 & 2″ (the chorus of which got the entire crowd of nearly 30,000 to chant seamlessly along), “The Fletcher Memorial Home,” and “Sheep.”

He stopped off to pay tribute to his fallen best friend Syd Barret, without actually mentioning his name. Maybe it’s still to fresh for him too discuss. Maybe he just knows that we all know and understand. Either way, he graced us with “Shine On You Crazy Diamond parts 1 through 3,” “Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun,” and a rendition of “Wish You Were Here” that literally reduced me to rubble. The giant screen behind the band showed telling & piercing images of Roger & his friend from many years past, and the images will haunt me for a long time to come.

After an hour and a half, including an amazing new song called “Leaving Beirut,” an apparently true story of just how loving our “enemies” can be, accompanied by a simply gorgeous living manga comic on the big screen behind him, Roger and his band announced that would be taking a short break. And that upon their return, after having already delivered what would be a complete show by today’s concert standards, they would play the tour’s centerpiece: the entire Dark Side Of The Moon album.

There isn’t much I can say here that would do the performance of DSOTM Live justice. To call it ‘amazing”, or “awe-inspiring” tasks the definitions of those words. What I will note is that in front of us was a young woman, blonde, 20 at the oldest. She knew every word of every song, and sang along to them all, as we all did, with an incredible abandon. She especially responded to “The Great Gig In The Sky,” performed with almost unimaginable heart, depth, and soul by Katie Kissoon. It was wondrous to see someone whom I would have pegged as a Christina Aguilera fan to be so intensely in tune with Roger, and his works. As Roger said before he left the stage, it made an old man very happy.

Roger returned after DSOTM and an encore, launched into a chunk from The wall that I will remember for the rest of my life. They started with “The Happiest Days Of Our Lives,” careened into “Another Brick In The Wall Part 2,” and slid seductively into a rather unexpected “Vera.” As the crowd and I sang out the chorus, (“Vera… Vera… what has become of you?”) it suddenly occured to me that he was playing the chunk as recorded, and was about to do “Bring The Boys Back Home,” under the shadow of the current war in Iraq. The song carried a weight & power beyond measure, and updated the post-WWII trappings of the original source material to where we stand today, with heartbreaking effect. While still reeling from that, the loudspeakers continued on with the original supplimental sound effects, and we crashed headlong into the most spectacular version of “Comfortably Numb” that I have ever experienced. Maybe it was just the power of seeing it performed by it’s actual author, maybe it was the closeness of Syd’s death, maybe it was the recent passing of some of the key members of my own life’s cast… but I’d never realized just how sad a song “Comfortably numb” really is. Not to sound melodramatic, or maudlin, but as I sang along with Roger & comapny, it finally, after 20 years, hit me, and tears streamed down my face. And as I looked around, I noticed that I wasn’t alone.

I will end this post now, even though I could type all night about the show. I barely even touched upon how political trhe show was, or how right I feel Roger is, or how nice it was to be immersed in such a massive group of people who felt just as I did… or the giant floating pig that begged us all to vote, and had “Impeach Bush NOW” spray painted over it’s ass. These must be experienced personally.

I will merely end by reasserting the statement my friend Andy made in the meager hotel bar we retired to after the show:

We didn’t just see a concert. We witnessed an event.