One night while having drinks with my friend LuLu we got to talking about our first concert experiences. When I told her mine was The Grateful Dead, the color drained from her face. She said hippie-this-hippie-that and then asked, “How long has it been since your last tie dye?” It’s been a long time.
I really did love seeing the Grateful Dead live. I don’t listen to them now, nor did I take to Phish like some people who were pseudo hippie Grateful Dead followers. For me, it was more about being someplace where shit was happening; even if I weren’t the one doing it.
Around my seventeenth birthday a friend called and asked if I could go to see The Dead that night (which happened to be a school night), she would spot my ticket and call it my birthday present. Her folks were Mormon too, but not quite as restrictive as mine. I almost didn’t ask my parents if I could go because I was certain they would say no.
My parents convened under what I’ve come to know as The United Front. Initially my mom screamed, “NO!” Then she and my dad talked behind closed doors. I always thought it was funny that they had to talk privately to decide how they felt, but it’s still in effect to this day.
Much to my mother’s displeasure, I was permitted to attend. My folks were banking on me being frightened to death by the illicit activities, listening to the Holy Ghost (or some crap) and running home, terrified into their arms. Wrong!
I loved it. Being inside of Shakedown* before and after the concert, was like being transported to a different world. There were so many clashing colors, smells and insane people. It was indistinguishably noisy with a general hum running across the crowd.
At least that’s how it felt to a good little Mormon girl. I would love to see a video of myself during that time. I know that my eyes must have been a mile wide. It was quite some time before I’d decide to participate in any of the “things” that occur in that environment (public urination and indecent exposure; oh the good old days!), but the energy and excitement happening around me was enough to make me feel momentarily content with my Molly Mormon-ness.
Inside the concert I’ll never forget this super yuppie guy who was wearing a business suit and spinning in circles on the lawn, barefoot, while the band played. How often do you see a guy wearing a suit, spinning without around barefooted in grass? Not often enough, not nearly enough!
Thus, my fondness for tie-dyed apparel during my escape from Mormonism was born. If Jerry had live a few years longer I may have gone full blown hippie and followed The Dead. But Jerry didn’t last beyond the handful of concerts I attended and I’ve always known the joy that is deodorant. The furthest I got into hippiedom was going on “strike” against shaving my legs one summer; not that it made much difference because my leg hair is blonde.
*rows of vendors in the parking lot
I don’t want to think about the smells at a Grateful Dead concert.
I tend to go on strike against shaving my legs in the Winter time. But my (also blonde) hairs only ever get to about half an inch before my boyfriend shames me into shaving them.
Übermilf,
But I want to make you!
Sra,
I’ve discovered that winter makes shaving my legs rather irritating: shave legs, step out of shower into cold and it’s like I never shaved.
I think you asked me a few posts back why I chose Utah…I moved here to be near my family while returning to school. Never thought I’d live in Utah, but I wanted to give school another go and I missed my family, though not as much as my judgment.
Hippie smell is unlike any other smell on Earth.
My first concert was John Denver.
And, yes. This says VOLUMES about me.
amazing. simply amazing.
My first concert was when I was fifteen. It was Guns ‘n’ Roses opening for Iron Maiden. It was also on a Sunday. I’d failed to tell my parents of the concert and when I came back smelling of pot they threw the hammer down on me. Holy shit it was awesome!
P.S. I don’t think a first concert could be as overwhelming as a Grateful Dead concert. Bravo for that.
My first concert was Laura Brannigan. At about age 10.
Can I get a Molly Mormon action figure? That’d be cool.
yournamehere,
That it is.
Loralee Choate,
John Denver? I love it!
drop dead chris,
Thanks!
The Grunt,
On the Sabbath? Totally busted!
The Grunt,
I ran across a youtube clip yesterday of a Dead parking lot…mayhem!
Curly Glamour Girlie,
Ooo! I want a Molly Mormon action figure!
I would have loved to see the Grateful Dead! Not a making-fun-of worthy event at all. I don’t much dig the jam band thing, but I listen to Sugar Magnolia on a pretty regular basis.
Well that’s a damn good first concert to see!
Mine was Tom Petty and Bob Dylan at Red Rocks. I think I was about 10 or 11 years old, and the whole family went. The row of college kids in front of us kept passing a beer can with a stream of smoke coming out back and forth, and as much as I harassed my father for an explanation of this activity, he remained tight-lipped.
electric boogaloo
I’ve been listening to a lot Grateful Dead stuff online since I wrote this.
brookem,
It sure was!
ginonymous,
What a sweet first concert!
The first time I remember smelling weed we were beach camping and when I asked my dad what it was he said people were burning corn husks. How weird is that?
I don’t even think my parents would know what the smell was. I would have to explain it to them.
I can’t remember what my first concert was. Maybe Metallica? Oh, no it was Danzig…but maybe with Metallica. I think.