photogs have all the fun

Today I got the rare chance to take pictures at a concert with a photo pass and everything. The whole experience was very eye-opening.

I requested to cover the Thin Lizzy / Joe Satriani / Deep Purple show at the Sleep Train. I still don't know why, really. I'm not a big fan of that sort of music, but I used to listen to classic rock radio all the time, and Deep Purple and Thin Lizzy are both names that are synonymous with that format, and as much as I think big solos are silly, Satriani really can play. Maybe I figured I'd be able to sing along with some songs that I knew and watch a genuine guitar god in action. Whatever reason, a free concert is a free concert, and the Sleep Train is still one of my favorite places to see a show, despite it's woeful name. Why you name a music venue after a mattress company is beyond me. I don't care how much money they're giving you.

The show was horribly expensive. I got two tickets for free, but it was still 10 bucks to park, 7 bucks for a beer, and the merch was horribly over priced--moreso than usual. Maybe that's why the concert was so poorly attended. The audience was also unbelievably old. Me and my copilot were among the youngest people in attendence who actually came on their own accord--some parents brought their children along. In total, there must have been 1 million plus years of rock'n'roll history in the venue, and I was happy to be a part of that.

Thin Lizzy looked kinda like a band you'd see playing a county fair, but they sounded really good. For some reason, I thought I'd be more familiar with their songs, but I think I only really knew the one everyone knows--"The Boys Are Back In Town." To no surprise, they ended with that one; sadly, they prefaced their big hit by asking the audience, "ok, are you ready?" I knew what they meant. Regardless, they were pretty damn good and their hair was exquisitely farmed and fluffed. The two guitarists played nice harmonic riffs and they didn't dawdle around much.

I got to take pictures of Satriani, which was kind of a thrill. I had to meet some guy by the admin building who would guide me to where I needed to go. I turned out that my guide to music photo journalism was a sly, shifty looking dude with long black hair and a slick goatee. He had that road worn look about him and he wore thick black shades. He looked like the kind of guy you wouldn't want to play poker against. I talked to him a bit, but he mostly seemed preoccupied with show business, whatever that is. He did tell me that he tours with bands all over the place, and that his next gig was in four days with Dave Matthews. I'm not sure what this guy actually did, but he seemed to be good at it. Eventually, he asked me if I was ready, and we moved on. He was one of those guys who walked with purpose; even as he stopped to say hi to someone he knew, he still moved forward. Even though the guy was on the weasley side, I still felt extremely important walking with him. We moved up to the ushers, obviously beneath this dude on the concert food chain, and before they could even ask me for my ticket, my guide said "He's ok. He's got a photo."

He explained to me the rules, which I knew already for the most part--I get to take pictures through the first two songs, no flash. There was a bit of confusion as to which side of the barracade I could stand on, but it turned out that I could be inside the barracade right at the foot of the stage, which was quite cool. Guide man even ran off to get me a pair of earplugs when I asked him if he had an extra pair.

It was obvious that my guide dealt with people of my ilk all the time, and I knew he could tell by looking at me that I wasn't a photographer. All I had was a little digital camera--not the big pro rigs with all the lenses and flashes. He asked me how I got the photo pass, if I had gotten it through the fan club or something. I told him that I was reviewing the show, and that a regular photographer couldn't make it. He said, "right on," and nodded his head. I felt like I had won his acceptance, and in so doing, had entered the fraternity of rock'n'roll.

Joe Satriani came out and started to do his shredding, and I was taking about as many pictures as I could; most of them came out like shit because rock stars never stop moving, but I got three that may be usable and that's all that I need. After my two songs, my guide was waiting for me just like he said he'd be, and I left the barracade area. He asked me if I had a ticket, and I said that I did, and I had pretty good seats, too. He said "right on" again, and we went our separate ways. Writing shows, you never get to talk to anyone. You get in for free, but you just kinda hang back and make mental notes of things. You don't get passes--unless you're doing an in-person interview or something like that--and there's no preferential placement. I guess it's because the less people who know you, the better, but, from my experience anyway, it's hardly like Almost Famous. No one invites you on the tour bus or lets you make out with their groupies. They just get pissed at you if you don't perform textual felatio with your review. Sometimes their fans write you angry letters--even if you liked the band! Maybe it's different for the people who work for the big mags.

Other than my guide, I got to shoot the shit with one of the event staff who told me how much he loved his job, but said that he didn't get to watch the shows like people thought. His job was to watch the crowd. He also told me that he always had to deal with people who were trying to get entrance to the back stage area. I wanted to hear some stories, but Satriani started up and I had to get to work.

Joe put on a pretty damn good show. You've got to hand it to the guy; he's a virtuoso. He also gives the best guitar face in the business, hands down. He even would act like he was lip synching his note bending. That's dedication.

Deep Purple was hardly as impressive. I knew a good number of their songs, and their guitarist was really good--he played an instrumental tribute to the victims of the last space shuttle disaster that was jaw-dropping--but the lead singer didn't age very gracefully, and his voice was very inconsistent. He was really pushing himself though, so I admire the effort. Rock'n'roll may keep you young, but it certainly can't turn back the clock.