On A Hot Muggy Night

On a hot muggy night in Fayetteville, North Carolina in the Summer of 1973, I had my first date with a young lady named Karen. The evening was going to be magic. I had some new platform heel shoes, Elephant Bell jeans with a tight paisley shirt, and don’t forget to add the love beads she had given me. My stash bag was hanging from my belt as was the fashion, but leave the stash at home. Tonight I was going to be straight. Tonight was going to be a night of romance. Tonight we were going out to eat early and then we were going to see Chicago live in concert.

We got to the auditorium too late for a good close-up parking spot and took the long walk with other late-comers. Some headed for the ticket booths to buy, but I already had our tickets, out on the main floor right in front of the stage. I had pawned my guitar the week before just to make sure I had enough for our date. We still had to wait in line for a bit to get in, but the company was pleasant and I didn’t mind. Finally through the doors, we headed for the main floor, stopping briefly to show our ticket stubs to the security dude to let us through. I’m not sitting in the stands with my buddies with the cheap tickets for this concert. Tonight I’m on the center floor with Karen.

I don’t even remember who the warm-up band was. They rocked and were pretty loud, but they weren’t Chicago. During the 15 minute break, after the warm-up band left the stage and the roadies were changing the set we got into more small talk. A guy, obviously tripping on something, was floating around in the crowd throwing candy into the air. A friendly drunk passed us a wine skin and we both had a drink, passing it back. Then the house lights went dark and the crowd roared. Chicago was finally taking the stage.

In every concert I had been to before, I had gone expecting to hear the songs I know and loved the way I knew and loved them. They were usually a little disappointing because the bands sound different in person than they did on the records, They were usually trying so hard to put on a show so they would lose the integrity of the original song. Chicago was different; they understood that the fans came to hear the songs the way they were recorded., and they gave us exactly that.

Chicago is not your typical Rock’n’Roll band, they are a jazz band that infiltrated the pop-rock world and grabbed fans by the heart. You don’t have a fantastic horn section in any Rock’n’Roll band I know of. As the magical jazz sound of Chicago penetrated our minds and shook our bodies like only a jazz beat can do, I knew that this was the best concert I had ever been to. The romance in the music and lyrics, the first kiss during “Color My World”, nothing could have made the evening more perfect. When it was all over we made our way back to the parking lot and waited in traffic to get to the highway. We didn’t really mind the wait. We were both happy in the experience we had just been through.

The romance with Karen? Long ago and far away, but the magic of Chicago goes on forever.