This so-called '90s nostalgia is probably no different from the '60s and '70s nostalgia that was a part of my childhood and early teens. The nostalgic generation is the generation that can afford to buy tickets to concerts. It is a simple case of supply and demand. Dan and I have been known to spend exorbitant amounts of money on VIP tickets so that we don't have to stand on the floor. Neither one of us would have been able to afford that in the '90s.
I wasn't super excited about the concert. I liked the Toadies. But I basically knew nothing about the other band, Helmet. And according to my husband's description, I was pretty sure Helmet was not my type of band.
However, I enjoyed the concert a lot more than I expected, especially the Toadies. (I was right about Helmet. I will not be popping in any of their CD's on my way to work. But, as a musician, I could appreciate the guitarist's virtuosity.) The members of both bands looked like graying and balding versions of the music major nerds with whom I spent all of my time in college.
After the Toadies finished their set and Helmet began playing, the hip thirty-something crowd that Dan and I most resembled, gradually cleared out. All of a sudden, we found ourselves alone in our VIP chairs, staring down at a group of large men with goatees and long, fuzzy hair slam dancing in front of the stage.
When the bouncers carted off a couple of wild men who looked a bit like Charles Manson, I got a little nervous about the post-concert parking lot. So I made Dan leave before Helmet came out for an encore, a fact that he brings up at least twice a day. (Dan loves to get to concerts an hour early and stay until the bitter end.)
Plus, I fell asleep during Helmet, the band that is known for making ears bleed. I found Helmet to be somewhat relaxing, like listening to a drone. Hey, it's not the '90s anymore. I can't stay up past eleven.
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