For my first eight
concerts, getting the tickets was relatively easy. My parents graciously supported my love of
live music and I enjoyed a good string of quality entertainment while having to
endure very little stress for the privilege.
That streak of luck almost ran out, however, when it came time to see my
ninth show, The Little River Band and Poco.
In the few
weeks leading up to the start of my junior year in high school, I spent my
early evening hours running hard miles with my team-mates from the
cross-country team. We were serious
about our sport and it made sense to us to prepare for the upcoming
season. Normally, a workout would last
about an hour and a half. This meant
that I'd usually be home by about eight or eight-thirty. Unfortunately, one particular workout lasted
a bit longer and I arrived home a few minutes after nine.
As far as I
knew, I had no set-in-stone curfew, so I saw no problem with coming home a
little late. My parents, however, saw it
differently, were angry, and promptly informed me that I would not be seeing
the Little River Band concert. This
punishment, on the surface, would not have raised any protestations of fairness
from me. I did not own any Little River
Band or Poco albums and so was not very invested in their music in a way that I
would have been for Foghat, Judas Priest, or Molly Hatchet. But I'd already asked my favorite red-headed
girl to go to the show, and having to tell her that we couldn't go because I
was being punished for a (non-existent) curfew violation raised all sorts of
angry feelings inside my adolescent mind.
Most of all, though, I feared that my loss of our date would make me
look weak in an already tenuous high school relationship.
So, I went into
bargaining mode. And when that didn't
work, I escalated to begging mode. And
when that didn't work, I moved up to whining mode. And when that didn't work, I went into
full-blown teenager pouting mode.
Now, of course,
with the benefit of hindsight, I know I was wrong. I should have accepted my punishment and
gotten over the fact that I could not take a girl who really didn't like me
that much to see a couple of bands that I didn't care about until I'd read they
were coming to town. But my teenage mind
just could not see it that way. I was a
manipulative kid, as my Simon and Garfunkel incident clearly proves, and my Mom
eventually gave in, bought our tickets and drove us to the show.
The show was
staged in the El Paso Civic Center South Hall and the setup was very
strange. The hall was a rectangle with
bleachers along one long side. Instead
of placing the stage in the center of the opposite long side, the promoter had
the stage at the end of the long side.
So a lucky few were standing or sitting in front of the stage, while the
majority---including my date and I---watched the show from the right of the
stage and at a considerable distance.
Poco began
their performance promptly at eight o'clock with a thunderously confident version
of the song "Under the Gun."
I'm aware that the words "thunderously confident" have
probably never been used to describe a Poco tune, but it's the only accurate
description for the way the band took the stage. The song is dominated by a strong eight note
riff and guitarist Rusty Young played it while holding his guitar out to the
side. When the chorus came around, new
bassist Charlie Harrison sang the words with fervor while his long hair hung in
his eyes. I'd never heard the song
before, but it immediately accomplished two things: it made me a fan of Poco,
and it became one of my favorite Poco tunes.
Up until the
show, I'd only been aware of Poco for a few years. Their album "Legend," released in 1978,
featured two songs that reached the top twenty of the singles chart:
"Crazy Love" and "Heart of the Night." Both songs were all over the radio in 1978
and so were impossible for me to ignore.
I liked them both and was happy to hear them played in a live setting.
A few days
before the show, during a doctor visit, I mentioned to a doctor that I was
going to see Poco in concert and his reaction was to raise his eyebrows and say
"They're still around?" This
statement made me stop and think about what I knew about Poco. Apparently, they'd been around a lot longer
than I'd thought.
Rusty Young and
guitarist/singer Ritchie Furay were both involved with the band Buffalo
Springfield, and after the dissolution of that band decided to form their own
band, calling themselves Pogo, after the comic strip. Walt Kelly, the cartoonist for the famous comic
soon raised objections to the use of the
name and they changed the name to Poco. They
released their first album in 1969 and over the next few years released many
albums that reached a small niche of country rock fans. Original guitarist Jim Messina was replaced
by Paul Cotton in 1970, and in 1973 Furay left to pursue other projects. By the time "Legend" was released
in 1978, the only two longtime members were Young and Cotton.
Of course, the
band reached back into their pre-"Legend" material during their set
at the Civic Center, giving me an eye-opening history of American country
rock. They played upbeat early tunes
like "A Good Feeling to Know" and "Grand Junction" as well
as the dramatic and uplifting "Rose of Cimmaron."
After a short
intermission, The Little River Band took to the stage and proceeded to play one
hit after another. Anybody growing up
within earshot of a radio in the late seventies would have known most of the
songs played that evening.
"Lady," "Help is on Its Way," "Lonesome
Loser," "Happy Anniversary," "Cool Change," and
"Reminiscing" were all given fine renditions with trademark perfect
harmonies.
Fortunately,
all three songwriters responsible for the bulk of their hits were present at
the show in El Paso: singer Glenn Shorrock, guitarist David Briggs, and
guitarist Graham Goble.
Besides their
previous hits, the band from Australia also played songs from their newest
album, "Time Exposure," which were every bit as infectious as the older
material. These songs included "Man
on Your Mind," "Take it Easy on Me," and a surprisingly rocking
version of "The Night Owls," sung by new bassist Wayne Nelson.
I left this
concert with an appreciation for both The Little River Band and Poco that I did
not expect to gain. For both bands, the
sound was professional, the playing was tight, and the harmonies were warm and
well delivered. I can't say that I am
proud of how I came to see the show, but I am glad that I can say that I've seen
both bands.
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