Don't Need Nothin' But A Good Time

I've been wanting to tell you about this for two days, but other show biz commitments and car repair sagas have kept me from my cushy office chair and the "portal to Hell" which is my computer. Despite my outwardly conservative, suburban dad demeanor, I possess the heart of a rocker, and the other night I got the opportunity to let my freak flag fly. (or just kind of stand there, since my freak flag is very short.)

A friend of mine has a cable access TV show and needed a little help shooting an interview. The subject for this piece of journalistic history, the lead singer from the 80's hair band Ratt! Yeah dude, Ratt is "out of the basement" and "back for more" and I was in. It didn't hurt that the venue was about seven minutes from my house, and that Ratt was opening for one of the premiere hair bands Poison. I may be a rocker, but I'm a lazy rocker, so a long commute to be part of this musical mayhem would not have been in the cards. We were granted access to Ratt's tour bus and conducted the interview in the back. I was disappointed at the lack of scantily clad groupies and untoward behavior. Except for looking like guys in a band, you know the look, emaciated, unwashed and exhausted, the guys were all very nice. At the end of the interview, we were given VIP passes for the concert. "We don't have anymore tickets" Ratt's road manager told us, "but these will get you in and let you go pretty much wherever you want." Score! You know I like to be considered a man of the people while keeping myself away from the people, and I love special treatment, so this was perfect. Our VIP passes weren't "all access" laminates that would have granted us entre to the backstage area and, no doubt, to many of the aging rocker chicks in their tight black slut wear, but they were close. I strutted past numerous ushers and when they started to ask me for a ticket, I just pointed to my chest and revealed the all important pass. I was greeted by countless "oh's" and then waved through. We were able to procure a reserved box that had not been claimed and when questioned, made what I coined, "the VIP point."

The concert started. The crowd was made up of the aforementioned slutty rock chicks who ranged in age from 18-50. Some of them were still holding onto their rock bodies, and some were showing the ravages of time. There was so much cleavage on display you would have thought they were giving away cantaloupes at the front gate. Then there were all the guys in their tight black tank tops and bandannas. Yeah dude, you still rock, even though your Camero got repoed. There were even rockers who brought their rocker in training kids. The only thing better than multi-generational rock is watching buzzed soccer moms do the Axl Rose snake dance to the pre-concert music. Welcome to the jungle indeed.

The first band was inconsequential. They were scrawny, loud and from Sweden, that should tell you all you need to know. Ratt came on and gave a good show, culminating with their big hit, and the only song I knew, "Round and Round." It was definitely worthy of a one handed rock salute, but nowhere near as salute worthy as the set by the headliner for the night's party, Poison.

If you don't remember Poison, then you were dead or a Garth Brooks fan during the 80's. These guys battled Motley Crue for hair and makeup dominance. I almost forgot how many hits they had until the big show. These guys still know how to put on a big arena show even though a lot of the tricks seem a bit cheesy when delivered by guys approaching or on the other side of fifty. Singer Brett Michaels repeatedly asked the rapt crowd if we were ready to "rock this f**k*n' house." Maybe he didn't hear us the first twenty times. We were. During every, and I mean every, song Brett also shouted to guitarist C.C. Deville to "play that thing." Having seen the Poison episode of Behind the Music I'm not sure if this was rock dialog or an honest attempt to remind C.C. of why he was actually standing in front of us. Between C.C. and Brett, we were reminded about 375 times that we were in Chicago. Thank goodness. I was so swept away by rock anthems and power ballads that I lost track of where I was. The show also contained a rising drum kit, lots of pyrotechnics and abstract videos. After using the concert mainstay of having the audience sing some lines, Brett would always proclaim, "that's what I'm talkin' about", or "you know what I'm talkin' about." Damn right I do Brett, you're talkin' about a rose, a thorn, a broken angel and you're talkin' dirty to me as you do it. The show ended with a rousing rendition of "Don't Need Nothin' But A Good Time" complete with confetti, more explosions and special twirling lights. It was like getting an aural "happy ending". I was spent and needed to towel off.

If I sound critical, I'm not. I really had a good time. There's something fun about reliving your past and watching people cling to good memories. Poison knows this and really delivered the goods. They may not be the greatest band to come down the pike, but for 90 minutes the other night, they gave all their restless fans "something to believe in."

Try to listen to the big show tomorrow night/Sunday morning on WGN. It's my new producer's first solo show and she's been working hard. It promises to be an exciting four hours of broadcast fun. I won't have any pyrotechnics, but there may be some explosions. Have a great weekend. Later..Brian