Where the Down Girls Go
Our First Show
Ten years ago today, we met up at a massive metal pole building for cheap drinks and a cover band. It was ground zero for two “Starving Groupies,” down to hear their favorite, big-hair-era rock songs.
Yes, it was the tunes of Warrant, Firehouse, Bon Jovi, Guns N’ Roses and Poison (and the like) that kicked off a decade of more bars, fairs, theaters and arenas--oh, and a blog.
(Pictured above) Angie on top, Kari on right and good friend Jeannine.
We were there to see my favorite cover band, Cherry Pie, a group of middle-aged men sporting spandex, ripped shirts and teased hair. And they played song after song that lit our hearts on fire.
Hey, don’t judge. When this type of music was popular, we were too young to see the real bands in concert, but not too young to rip the songs off the radio to make a classic mixed tape, the playlist of yesteryear.
This was the next best thing. Hearing the songs live. That’s what it’s all about. To hear the riffs, feel the bass and see the sweat. There’s nothing like it.
Luckily, since then, the original artists have hit the road, and, together and separately, Angie and I have had the chance to snag tickets to see them, re-living junior high dances and singing the lyrics we’ve never forgotten.
Some songs we’ll never hear live again in their original forms (RIP, Jani Lane), which makes us hit up as many (I hate to say it) “old school” rock shows we can.
Now, stuck in quarantine, what we would give to hit up a good cover band in a dirty bar on the outskirts of small-town Wisconsin. Here’s to a decade of live music, Angie! In the meantime …
