The first concert I ever attended, in my teens half a century ago to see Fleetwood Mac at the height of their superstardom in an outdoor stadium in Southern California, remains perhaps my most memorable — but not because it was a fantastic show.
Rather, it was unforgettable because they did not put on a show at all thanks to a windy landslide-powerful storm that blew in shortly before the band was to take the stage, forcing a literal rain-check cancelation.
Another concert, a few years later, also remains unforgettable — also for an unfortunate reason. Held inside Inglewood’s Fabulous Forum, safe from an unfabulous rainout, my buddies and I arrived very early and decided to stay in our car in the parking lot and listen to the album “Tommy” instead of going in to see the who-are-they band that was opening for The Who.
We timed things perfectly and found our seats during The Who’s opening song.
Or so we thought.
After the electrifying concert ended, including a handful of encores, Keven, George and I grumbled our surprise and disappointment that they hadn’t played “Baba O’Riley — to which a fan next to us told we three tardy idiots, “They opened with it and it was amazing!”
Vowing “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” I have been fortunate to see some other memorable concerts, all without missing the opening song, including Paul McCartney, James Taylor a few times, Tom Petty, and, yes, Fleetwood Mac under a roof, to name a fab four of my favorites.
Big names are wonderful, but to my concert honor roll I added a new performance last weekend by the small attendees of the annual Crescendo Summer Music Camp. Their hour-long songfest, held in the Camarillo United Methodist Church, was nothing short of magical.
Magical does not mean flawless, for herding two dozen kindergarteners and first-graders onstage and into proper alignment is bound to have a lost sheep or two, so to speak, that needs a shepherd to guide it home.
Expectedly, not every note was sung in key, nor every dance step executed in sync — or even executed at all. Too, the sixth- and seventh-grade handbells symphony, under the expert direction of camp co-director Kristi VanKeersbilck, occasionally rang notes a fraction early, or late — but every note was struck with visible joy on the bellringers’ faces.
And that was the real magic of the concert — the joy on the faces of the 98 young performers and their eight music teachers’ countenances as well. Joy being highly contagious, the packed pews were also filled with the sunbeam smiles of siblings, parents, and grandparents, including my wife and me to watch our 7-year-old granddaughter Maya sing “I Am a Pizza” with laughter in her eyes and “You Are My Sunshine” with welling moisture in ours.
Another highlight was “Do Re Mi” sung by second- and third-graders, their rendition rivaling the Trapp children’s in my opinion.
Similarly, “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” was a roaring success and Prince’s “1999” was royally good; Michael Jackson, Justin Bieber, and Earth Wind and Fire songs were also well worthy of applause.
But my favorite performance, most assuredly, was the finale. Under the guidance of co-camp director Connie Halpern (belovedly know as “Mrs. Fig,” who used to own The Bookworm bookstore in Camarillo), the Crescendo Campers took the stage en masse, spilling into the wings on either side, and sang — and signed with their hands — “Heal the World.”
Unlike “Baba O’Riley,” I would not have missed it for the world.
* * *
Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn
Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.
*
Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.