Комментарии
10 years назад
My brother Gene, (older half brother on my Dad's side), took me to my first three Concerts, the 87' Texas Jam at the Cotton Bowl, Lynyrd Skynyrd on Halloween night at the Summit, (which is now the Osteen Lakewood Mega-Church), and Pink Floyd at the Astrodome, all three shows in 87'. The first concert, the 87' Texas Jam, the lineup was Fahrenheit, Tesla, Poison, Whitesnake, Aerosmith, & Boston. As Boston was the headliner, they got the unfair advantage of a cool lightshow to add to their performance. To a young aspiring rock guitarist to go on a road trip with my older brother, who didn't live in my house, but I always loved him dearly, and to drive halfway across Texas, which is a pretty damned long trip, and to be bombarded with all the overwhelming sensations of a big rock show, with the sights, sounds, smells saturating your senses, and to be there with my super cool older brother, it was literally like being spellbound by magic itself. During the Boston set, they played a new song off their new album at the time, Third Stage, and this song was a beautiful ballad called Amanda. During this song,instead of purely living in the glorious moment like I had for the rest of the show, I stopped and told myself to look around you, listen to the sounds of not only the band, but the crazy crowd around me as well, to breath deep the sickly-sweet mixture of burning herb, body sweat, with a touch of puke, and to soak it ALL in. But more than anything, to look at my brother and to see the joy on his face and his and my bliss at really living and enjoying our lives, if only for a brief moment. I just had this overwhelming compulsion to REMEMBER THIS! Remember the sensations. Remember this emotion and euphoria. This is a perfect moment. Remember how it is right here and right now. This personal epiphany occurred while Boston was playing Amanda. Now, twenty-seven years later, many years after my dear brother's death, to this day, whenever I hear the song Amanda by Boston, I am literally there again. I can see it, hear it, smell it, taste it and FEEL it. I can also literally see the look of pure joy on my brother's face, and I miss him. I'm a grown 43 year old man, and I just started crying while writing this. That is the power of the memories of the loved ones we've lost... I miss Gene more than I can say...