Roanoke, 1965
-
Artist:
-
Track:Henry the Eighth
I guess that year is right--anyway, I was old enough to drive. It was actually my second concert. I heard an excellent Philadelphia Orchestra concert in Richmond, VA, in 1962, but I can't remember how to spell Tch . . . that Russian composer.Anyway, it was a strange start to many years of loving live music. By the next summer I was adept at sneaking into adult dance clubs around Roanoke with older friends' draft cards for ID. By 1969 I had seen dozens of soul groups, Paul Butterfield, Percy Sledge, Cannonball Adderly, Flatt and Scruggs, and even Thelonious Monk (at the Cellar Door in DC), but it started with a simple-minded pop outfit who specialized in cute.The real event wasn't the music in this case, it was the rain. Four of us had driven over from the wilds of Callaway in our madras blazers and tennis shoes to be as cool as we could. We got as wet as I have ever been when the storm hit, but, being country boys, simply went to a laundromat and threw everything, even shoes and belts, in the dryers. I'll admit a moment of concern when I was stuck in the men's room until my shorts dried, but the guys came through.So did the Hermits. After a long delay, they played a full concert to the people who stuck it out. I don't remember any particular song or bit of musicianship, but we were there in the open air listening to music live. It is still one of life's best experiences, whether at Rivennia or Floyd County, whether it's cajun at Angell's Whisky River or the Messiah at Duke Chapel. So I head into Geezerhood with delight in the thought of having time to do things like the Delbert McClinton cruise this winter, Sundays at Angell's whenever I can get South, the Blue Ridge Folklife Festival right here at home.
Comments (2)