It Must Be True

September 23-29, 2013

Jay Edwards

The beer being sold at the concert was like a fountain of youth. It was taking years off the crowd in chunks.

There were some ladies who had the moves to match the music; not many though. Some of the guys thought they had it going on too. They were wrong of course, but at least they were having a good time; letting their hair down in the non-literal sense.    

There was one guy sitting in front of me who was proud of the loud piercing whistle he had developed over the years. I mean it was awful, and he kept doing it. He sat between two women; one of whom I guessed was his date. I was sitting behind him, and even with the loud music it still hurt my ears. After each obnoxious whistle he would turn to his date and look at her with that proud “Barney Fife” smirk, as if to say – “They will probably call me down on the stage in a minute for a whistling solo.” And she would smile back as if to say – “You are soooo cool.” This was definitely a date and not a marriage. 

Lynard Skynard was the last concert I saw in Barton Coliseum, probably in 1974 or 75. The Charlie Daniel’s Band came out first.  

The last rock concert I saw anywhere before the other night was Frank Zappa, in Fayetteville. That was also in ‘75. After that it was Branson in the late 80s, to meet a client who wanted to go see Roy Clark’s show. The client was a very good one, so good in fact that when he asked me to take a helicopter ride with him over Table Rock Lake, I said yes. 

Roy Clark was great but I could have done without the helicopter ride.

My next concert wasn’t until a few years ago when some friends treated us at Christmas to Tony Bennett in Hot Springs. Seeing a legend like Tony Bennett was a thrill and my wife loved it. And there wasn’t a whistler anywhere near us. 

The vantage point I watched from the other night reminded me of where I had watched an REO Speedwagon concert in Barton. I tried to conjure up the image of that night in my mind. I remember Barton concerts as always being dark and smoky. It was a very friendly and sharing atmosphere, but you had to be careful because you never knew what might come out of the dark.    

Then there was the time in August 1977 that I saw Charro in Las Vegas. She was the opening act for Joey Bishop. Goochie-goochie. Does that count as a concert? 

We were in Vegas on August 16, the same day Elvis died. I was standing near the roulette wheel in the Aladdin Casino when they announced “The King” had been found dead at Graceland. You have never seen a more shocked group. One lady fell to the floor screaming. I remember thinking he must have been a friend of hers. 

So let’s see – that was Lynard Skynard and Zappa in 1975, Charro in 1977, Roy Clark in 1988, and Tony Bennett in 2003. That’s kind of a depressing trend. Time is relentless. But it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to be on the front row if ZZ Top or The Doobie Brothers rolled into town. Bring them on. I can still hit some licks on that old air guitar – as long as I’m home in bed by 10.