1983, 1986, 1987, 1988, 1989

Milwaukee

1983: The Go-Go's

We sat in the bleachers, far far away from the stage, on a hot afternoon that had softened into evening as the opening band, INXS, finished its set. I was there with my mom and dad, my older brother already having declared himself uninterested in this show. When the band came onstage and launched into their first song, a guy standing behind me leapt to his feet, spilling warm beer down the back of my T-shirt.


1986: INXS

Three years later, INXS was a mainstage act at Summerfest, and my 16-year-old brother and I got there in plenty of time for the show. He'd been playing his INXS records all spring, and we were both particular fans of "What You Need." I was unbelievably excited about the show, and as the clouds rolled in, I insisted against all evidence that the concert would go on. Half an hour before showtime, an enormous thunderstorm rolled in, drenching us, and the poorly-drained Summerfest grounds became a inches-deep pond of rainwater, toilet runoff, and empty plastic cups. Needless to say, I (and every other kid in the joint) went crazy, splashing wildly through toxic puddles, bellyflopping, throwing water on our too-cool-for-the-room older siblings. The concert was cancelled. INXS never left their bus. Summerfest was closed. And my brother, with his new driver's license, drove us home, our sopping clothes sticking to the upholstery of the Audi our parents had recently bought but were soon to find out they couldn't afford to keep.


1987, 1988: Bruce Hornsby and the Range

Carl's father was a difficult, prickly professor at Marquette who pushed his son harder than any parent in our suburb. Carl was the smartest kid in our class; he also ran his own lawnmowing business in the summers, and it was rumored that he made a thousand dollars a year. I never felt comfortable asking him even though we were each the other's only friend. Oh yeah, and he also had taken piano lessons for his entire life and consistently won gold medals at Solo/Ensemble competitions. As a pianist, he was a big Bruce Hornsby fan; I too learned to love that first album of white piano soul, and we waited in line for Marcus Amphitheater hand stamps two summer in a row, sitting for hours in the first row of unreserved seats before the show. By 1989 I had ditched Carl for a new group of friends, the band geeks, who occupied a minisculely higher rung on the social ladder than Carl and I previously had. Through high school I watched from afar as he made his solitary way through classes; his tuition-free future at Marquette assured, he still studied like a demon and graduated as valedictorian. At our ten-year reunion, I barely recognized him and felt too guilty to say more than a few words.


1989: Sting

Attended with my mom. Bought sweatshirt. Wore sweatshirt at least twice a week throughout high school. Flirted incessantly and unsuccessfully with freshly-hired blonde English teacher who loved Sting with a fiery passion and quoted his lyrics to her class. Look back on this time with awe and confusion over what a strange kid I must have been.




Soundtrack:
Our Lips Are Sealed The Go-Go's
What You Need INXS
Mandolin Rain Bruce Hornsby and the Range
The Lazarus Heart Sting