I wrote and published this following review of this phenomenal concert some time ago. But being that this day marks the 25h anniversary of this phenomenal show, and day, it seems fitting (at least to me) to publish something in recognition of such an anniversary.
My God! Has it already been two and a half decades exactly since the day that I saw this concert - one of the most memorable concerts that I have ever seen?
Today marks the 25th anniversary of a very memorable event for three members of my family. It was on this day, June 11th, back in 1994, that we spent a day in the Bronx, and capped it off with one of the most pleasant and memorable concerts that I have ever been to.
Yes, it was on this day exactly 25 years ago – a quarter of a century ago! – that we got to see Pink Floyd at Yankee Stadium (the old one, not the new one).
They put on a great show. I was still fairly new to concerts back then, having seen just a handful of concerts that mostly my father took my brother and I to when we were younger. My brother and I had decided a couple of years before to go see Metallica and Guns ‘n Roses, with Faith No More opening, back in the summer of 1992.
But 1994 was the year when that changed, and I began to go to a decent amount of shows. All in all, I would attend six concerts that year, as well as quite a few sporting events. Perhaps I was trying to make up for what had felt like an absence in terms of going to such events while growing up as a kid, who knows? Yes, though, that was the year when I began to go to many more events than I had up to that point, and Pink Floyd was the first of these concerts.
So again, my concert experience was limited. Yet, the music sounded almost perfect. It was neither too loud nor too quiet, and having seen Metallica just two years before, and having experienced my ears ringing for something like four days after, my assumption – apparently a mistaken assumption – was that every concert was going to be like that. Was going to be deafening, in other words.
Pink Floyd was virtually perfect. I do not remember any mistakes, not really one note out of place, or one chord missed, or anything. Maybe I am wrong, and I would, and intend to, listen to it again to find out. But it had felt like a very nice day, and that concert was the perfect way to end the evening. We had gone to Jerome Avenue, and gotten a bite to eat and looked around at the discount shops in the area. I remember getting a basketball. We then went to unwind a little bit at the Bronx Botanical Gardens, which we had visited as children. I remember having nightmares about that place, as it was one of the spots where my father tried to teach me to ride a bicycle, obviously before I knew how.
That visit that day was a lot less stressful. We just took in the beautiful surroundings, and got to enjoy what I remember being a perfect day weather-wise.
There are little things about that day that I can still remember well. We parked near Fordham, and took the subway in. We arrived early, and there was a group of somewhat older guys, probably in their forties or fifties, nearby. One of them looked like my high school history teacher, with curly hair and a mustache, and wearing a blazer. He looked like an intellectual type. He and his friends were kind of bullied out of their seats by some big guys at some point, but before that, they lit up some marijuana, and were joking with us about that intellectual guy, saying that he had not been to a concert in a very long time. Pink Floyd was late coming on, as they only came on at about 9pm or shortly thereafter. There were these strange bird noises on the sound system every now and then, and whenever they came on, people would clap and cheer, thinking or expecting that this signaled that the band was about to take the stage. The Rangers owned a lead in the Stanley Cup Finals, and so every now and again, Rangers fans would cheer the Rangers, and let everyone know that they wanted the Cup, even though this was not a hockey game, or even a sporting event. It was also a perfect day, and I just felt content to be there, in the city, at Yankee Stadium, seeing this legendary band.
It was a good time in my life. Having just gotten my first real job outside of helping my father with his painting business, I finally had my first bit of expendable income. I was young and in college, and had been elected President of the Environmental Club at my college, but was enjoying summer break. The Bronx were the old stomping grounds for our family, even though that had been at a time before I could even remember, having been very young (still a baby). Yet, when we returned for visits in the Bronx, there was always that spirit of returning to a place that we used to call home.
Plus, there were other things going on in the world. It seemed like a better, brighter day. This was long before Trump and all of the nonsense going on in America today. Hell, this was before September 11th! The country was hardly perfect, yet it felt like a more hopeful, promising time. Just years before, we had seen the mostly peaceful end to the Cold War and communism in eastern Europe, and the end of apartheid in South Africa. The World Cup was about to begin, with the United States hosting it, and I was amazed that my brother managed to obtain tickets to a quarterfinal game, and we also attended a World Cup warm-up game between Columbia and Greece. Living in the New York metropolitan area, there was an air of excitement, as the Rangers were closing in on their first Stanley Cup in over half a century, while the Knicks seemed to have an excellent shot at obtaining their first NBA title since 1973 (although they would ultimately lose a tough seven-game series to the Houston Rockets in the NBA Finals that year.
Yes, it felt like a happier, more promising time. I was younger, and my whole life was ahead of me, there to be shaped by my actions as I saw fit (or so I imagined). My confidence was building from the low confidence of the largely forgettable high school days. In short, things felt good at that time.
And that evening felt almost perfect. It is rare to have a pleasant feel after a concert, or even more generally, an event. I remember feeling that special kind of buzz of anticipation, mixed with a pleasant feeling during and after the event, only a handful of times during my life. The first concert that my brother and I attended, seeing Metallica, had been like that. Seeing the World Cup quarterfinal, when Bulgaria would stun the defending champions, Germany, later that summer would feel like that, too. Seeing Pearl Jam in late September of 1996 was like that, as was seeing the Chicago Bulls during the 72-10 season earlier that year. Seeing another World Cup match, this time a semifinal, between France and Croatia, and then seeing the celebrations after France went on to win not only that game, but the World Cup title itself, was like that. Probably seeing the men’s final of the 2002 U.S. Open felt like that, even though the guy I was pulling for, Andre Agassi, fell short. Attending the Vote for Change finale in Washington in the fall of 2004, and seeing all of those great artists, stood out in that way. Seeing the Live Earth concert in the summer of 2007, just one of many venues, but one of the biggest, was unique in that way. Maybe seeing the Three Tenors in Paris that same year was like that. Paul McCartney giving a free concert for Quebec City’s 400th anniversary in 2008 was special in that way, as well. Seeing Ringo Starr’s 70th birthday concert, with McCartney and Yoko Ono, among others, coming on as special guests, felt like that. Perhaps seeing the 12/12/12 concert in December of 2012 felt special in that rare way, as well.
That might sound like a lot, and indeed, I have been blessed with having seen that many great and memorable events. But there were usually years in between them, and that made it feel like these were indeed very rare events.
Well, Pink Floyd felt like that. First of all, that is a legendary band, and I had been listening to their then recently released album, the Division Bell, numerous times. I thought (and still think) that it was a brilliant album. Very different in it’s own way from some of the great Floyd albums of the past, but great stuff nevertheless. It is probably my third or fourth favorite album from Pink Floyd, and listening to it still transports me to what still feels like almost magical days in the summer of 1994, when things felt happier, and the future felt more open and promising.
Not all of my hopes for the future would come true, of course. But that is neither here nor there. The feeling that I had back then was real, and Pink Floyd was a part of that in a memorable way. When I think back to the summer of 1994, that concert is one of the first things, a monumental event, if you will, which continues to stand out. It was a great concert.
To help remember it better, it seemed fitting to republish my post from the 20th anniversary of the concert five years ago, when I also went through my memories of this show. Below that, there is a Youtube video of the actual concert that evening.
Enjoy!
Pink Floyd at Yankee Stadium, June 11, 1994 - 20 Year Anniversary!
Originally published on June 11, 2014
Pink Floyd, June 11, 1994 Bronx, New York - This was only the second concert that I chose to go to, and so the excitement was even stronger than it normally would have been as a result.
And, it goes without saying, this is a legendary band. They did not come around often. So, when my brother told me that he and my father were interested in going, and asked me if I would like to go, as well, of course I immediately said yes! I was familiar with Dark Side of the Moon (who isn't?), since both my brother and father had played it for years, as well as many of their other works. Personally, I became completely obsessed with "The Wall" for a couple of years or so following Roger Water's concert in Berlin in 1990. Although I was bummed out that Waters was no longer a part of Pink Floyd, I nonetheless felt very privileged to be going to such an amazing show!
It was New York City. Yankees Stadium, specifically, and my first trip there. The city felt almost jovial, because the New York Rangers either had just won, or were about to win, the Stanley Cup, breaking their 54 year drought. I am not a Rangers fan, but I was happy for those who are, and enjoyed the festive atmosphere. Also, the Knicks were doing very well, in the NBA Finals against the Houston Rockets, although that would not turn out as well for them. But at the time, it felt like anything was possible. The city was a great place to be, and we were there on that day. It was to see a great and legendary band. I had my first independent job ever, and was making money (not much, but it was a salary, and I was proud at the time).
In short, this was a good time in my life. For whatever reason, despite some of the problems (like no girlfriend) that I was having at the time, I remember 1994, and specifically, the first eight months or so of 1994, very fondly. And the day of the Pink Floyd concert was one of the highlights. I went with my brother and my father, and even though the seats were not exactly great, the price was not so outrageously expensive back then as they have become since. What makes this memory extra special to me was that it was not just about the concert, although it was truly an incredible, and very memorable, concert! We made a day of it, and the weather could not have been more accommodating.
Of course, Yankee Stadium is in the Bronx, and the Bronx is where I was born, and where my family used to live. So, we visited the old neighborhoods, including Jerome Avenue. There was an element of exoticism in this, funny as it may sound, because we hardly ever go to New York City together as a family, and trips to the Bronx are even rarer (for instance, I do not remember a trip back since this day). But we enjoyed it on that day. We then went to the Bronx Botanical Gardens, which are very beautiful, and which my family did used to visit during my childhood, even though we had not been back there in years (and have not been back since).
And then, of course, the concert. Everything felt perfect. I loved the new album, "The Division Bell", and the sound was crisp and clear- more so than almost any concert I can remember to date. There was the laser show, of course. And there was the pleasant feel of being in New York City on a warm, summer evening, in the open air, listening to some great music. It was a long concert, and at the time, I got the mistaken impression that three hour concerts was the norm. Later that year, I would get a bootleg of the show, which I still have somewhere. I remember feeling just great as we headed home afterward, happy to have gone, and happy for the day, and when I think back to that day, and that concert, there is that kind of fuzzy warmth that comes with pleasant memories. I am especially grateful since this was apparently the last real opportunity to have seen Pink Floyd! They would not officially disband or anything, but they would not come back around to the United States after that tour, and never released another actual album.
No comments:
Post a Comment