It Was My Baby’s First Gig.
I drove to Nashville on my own. Bill and Shane didn’t want to make the trip to see Dylan’s band, since 22 hours of driving in three days is a rather long jaunt. Plus, I’d been planning on spending some special time with my college-bound son anyway, and I wanted to spend some of that time with him alone.
Traveling alone is fun. Sure, it can be tedious, and driving can be a bore – but I was able to stop whenever I wanted, eat whatever I wanted, and listen to books on tape that only I liked – for all 22 hours.
Best of all, though, is that I arrived in time to spend time with Dylan. We had a late lunch (for him) since he’d gotten out of bed at 2 p.m. And we had a nice, long talk over our grilled cheese sandwiches.
Then he had to get ready to perform, which was overwhelmingly exciting – for me. Dylan took it in stride – changed his shirt and brushed his hair, probably at my insistence – and then wandered over to the record store for mic check.
I was not allowed at mic check.
But when I arrived in the tiny venue, with no seating and standing room only for about 50 people, Dylan and his band were belting out a song. I was afraid they’d started early, but they hadn’t. They finished quickly and disappeared “backstage.” Dylan’s friend and I waited for about 10 minutes, until the band finally emerged and went on.
It was my baby’s first gig. And since it happened on Homecoming night – the biggest basketball game and dance of the year – a whopping seven people were in the crowd.
And oh MY. It was loud. They sang about half an hour’s worth of music, all of which I filmed and put on YouTube for anyone who really, really, really likes metal.
I am not particularly a fan of metal.
But it was so much fun watching Dylan. Listening to Dylan. Even with ear plugs in – which were essential – I could hear that booming voice. While I longed for the days of Willy Wonka and Frank Sinatra, Dylan was obviously having a blast.
It transported me right back to when I was his age – a teenage groupie, hanging out in my boyfriend’s garage to hear his band practice. I thought I was the coolest girl on the planet – which is interesting, thinking back, because not only was I not cool, but I’m not sure how I determined that I was cool just because I was sitting there watching – but I felt exactly that cool again, at the age of 55, watching Dylan’s band blow the roof off the place.
By association – somehow – just being there made me cool. And all those geeks at the Homecoming game, well, they missed out.
After the show, another band played, and I watched Dylan and his college friends bounce around in a makeshift mosh pit, as if they were part of a 10,000-person crowd.
It was awesome.