My First Rock Show

There comes a time in every young person's life when they just want to dance with abandon, or bang their head, along with a few hundred (or thousand) music-loving compatriots. That's right: the first rock show. A major milestone for many and a high point of one's teenage years.

I remember the first show I was supposed to attend, though I cannot recall why it didn't happen. Of course, it was Lenny Kravitz, so that was probably for the best. My actual first rock show has subsequently disappeared into the youthful haze. Could have been the Beastie Boys at Cobo Hall. Or possibly Luscious Jackson at St. Andrew's. Or maybe even the Steve Miller Band at the former Pine Knob.

(That's a weird band, isn't it? They're pretty much the only band I can think of that seemed to exist for the sole purpose of putting out a Greatest Hits record. Did they even release any regular albums? They must have, but what a brilliant marketing ploy it would be to release just a Greatest Hits album and nothing else.)

While it may not have been on the scale of any these performances, recently the Doozer had the chance to attend his own very first rock show, before he'd even turned two years old.

It was a unique event, a birthday party for a six year-old at a small children's theater venue. After a bizarre puppet show that seemed to have something to do with falling asleep at school, space aliens, and birthday cake (we missed the beginning, but I'm not certain seeing it would've helped to clarify things), the main event (besides cake and ice cream and presents, of course) was a band. A hastily thrown-together Talking Heads cover band (the birthday girl, turns out, was a big fan--imagine her extreme disappointment when she discovers they are not actually a band anymore).

Anyway, there we were, in a small puppet theater, with an audience of maybe 12-15 people, watching a band tear through the repertoire of the Talking Heads. Their energy was infectious and the crowd was digging it. However, I'm not quite sure anyone present (the birthday girl included) enjoyed it quite as much as the Doozer. It's difficult to put into words what it was like to watch him . . . get down, shall we say? Instead, I'll just say that I'm eternally grateful for the video recording feature on our digital camera.

And I will continue to wonder where exactly he learned these moves. Certainly not from me.

Rock on, Doozer. Rock on.