The Unveiling

[THE FOLLOWING IS PART ONE OF AN UNFOLDING SERIES OF EPISODES FROM THE AUSSIE ROCK CELEBRATION CONCERT ’08, AT THE CONCLUSION OF WHICH WE WILL UNVEIL FOR YOU THE BRONZE STATUE OF BON SCOTT. WE APPRECIATE YOUR PATIENCE. BON HAS WAITED TWENTY EIGHT YEARS, FOR THIS MOMENT. SO AN EXTRA DAY OR TWO FOR THE BLOG ENTRY WON’T HURT YOU…]

Sent:
19 Feb 2008
16:38:46
Hey Mish wanna come
to a concert on sunday?
Sender
Lucas

—

Sent:
19 Feb 2008
16:45:53
Only if it is oz rock
and I can wear black
jeans
Sender
Mish

And so it came to pass. The big day had arrived. I was due to meet Mish around 4pm at the Claremont Showgrounds. After a rowdy bus and train journey with the Hamilton Hill Clan, I joined a conga line of black T shirts at the back of a seemingly endless queue, suffering under the baking sun. Somewhere up the line came the plaintive cry of a female voice: “Why do we wear dark clothing in this heat?”

Mish arrived just as I was claiming our tickets. I’ve known Mish since we were 11 years old. She was my first girlfriend, I guess. We “went out together” at the end of primary school, although in truth we never actually “went out” anywhere – except to “spin the bottle” parties, which all the kids were really into at the time. To us, these parties were frightening and risky and exhilarating, but in retrospect, it was all quite innocent and rather cute. Mish and I “broke up” shortly after we began high school, but have remained very close friends ever since. But even though we’ve witnessed each other’s progress through countless rites of passage, attending an Aussie Rock Concert has never been one of them. In fact, just six weeks ago, the idea of standing in a queue for one of these things would have seemed completely alien to me. Circumstances change fast, eh? I was glad to have Mish by my side for this one.

We followed the Hamilton Hill Clan through the gates to a hotdog stand, where we got fishburgers and coke. Mish had managed to sneak a plastic bottle filled with bootleg bourbon through the very lax security at the gate. During the afternoon we worked our way through this, and when it was all gone, we obtained a few more from the bar. So I have to warn you that my recollections in this and subsequent posts might be a little patchy. (Mish, if you’re reading this at work, chime in! I’m sure between the two of us we can piece it together…)

[Screaming Jets on the big screen…]

We munched our burgers and snaked through the crowd. The Screaming Jets were already on stage. Their singer, Dave Gleeson, had a big shock of dark blond curly hair. I was surprised at how sprightly he looked. Not to mention cheeky. I guess I’d imagined all these old rockers would be a bit tired and slow by now, but Dave was full of wit and venom, spitting insults and jokes at the crowd, grabbing his crotch and dancing around with his mike like he was still 19. The audience lapped it up. Here’s an example of Dave’s between-song banter:

Fu-uk me it’s good to be here. Last year I was up here on stage at the fundraisin’ concert [crowd cheers wildly] … do you all remember how fuckin hot it was that day? [more cheers] … must have been something like 38 degrees and the sun was beating down on me and I’m up here singing my guts out and gettin’ FUCKIN’ SCORCHED and I remember thinking: ‘Fuck me, I should have put some sunscreen on before the show!’ Well let me tell you something folks… [long pause, during which hushed anticipation from the crowd] THAT was the most UN-fucking-rock-and-roll-moment of my fucking life!! [crowd goes ballistic, guitars and drums kick in deafeningly and the next song begins].

I turned grinning to look at Mish. She works for the WA health department these days, and this was definitely NOT the kind of “sun-safety message” the government has been trying to get across. She rolled her eyes. For once, she was trying to be “off duty”…