Back in the late Seventies and early Eighties of the Twentieth Century, I was an "SMF'. An SMF was an NSFW term for the ardent fans and followers of the rock band Twisted Sister. The band achieved some brief national notoriety with an over-the-top stage act and a powerful rock voice that appealed to folks that happily identified as "SMFs". Good music, good booze, good times.
In 1982, after signing a record deal, the band would head off to England to record what they hoped would be their entre into the big time. This was their last concert before heading off to the U.K.
Now, we are into the second decade of the twenty-first century, the band has only recently finished their latest farewell tour after years of on-again-off-again activity. All of us are now older and wiser(?), and we live in a YouTube world, where one can stumble upon concerts like this one, as I did a few nights ago. I was browsing YouTube on my SmartTV, reclined in my bathrobe in an unflattering position on a recliner in my living room on Long Island. My two teenagers ignoring me and my wife in another room reading, with a Home Shopping channel on for background noise.
Early in the concert, someone in the crowd hands the lead singer, Dee Snider a copy of "Kick-Ass Monthly", a fanzine newsletter. I remember knowing the guy who published it. A nice fellow named Bob Muldowney I had met back then through a good friend of mine named Mark Salomon. We were all metalheads and big fans of Twisted. I hadn't thought about Bob or Kick-Ass Monthly in years, Bob had passed away some years back, gone too young and way too soon. But there was Dee, holding up the newsletter and riffing on his cover picture. I guess Bob was at this show! I settled in to watch, remembering the good times and marveled at how it all looked so familiar. As I said, I was a card-carrying SMF, I had seen Twisted countless times back in the days they played in clubs throughout the tri-state area.
The show was terrific, all of their songs done in the speed frenzy that Twisted Sister was known for. It was so much fun to watch and reminisce about those times. For their big finale, they would do their only cover song of the set, the Stones' "I Know It's Only Rock 'n Roll", but it would be done their way. While the Stones version seemed almost laconic, Twisted sped it all up until it was a raging celebration of the freedom that the best rock songs could inspire. It was always a Twisted show highlight.
As usual, the band would pause in the song to interact with the audience with a call-and-response interlude (When I say "I Know, it's only Rock and Roll", you say "I LIKE IT! ) interspersed with patter about the band's philosophy and mission. The audience would react as one, with a howl of joy ("I LIKE IT!!!!!) as we had all done so many times before, in so many dives over the years.
During Dee's cajoling of the crowd, the camera angle shifted to a side view. As the stage lights would alternate the spotlights, I did a double-take. Could it be? Was that ME I just saw in the audience? I was gobsmacked. I had to stop and rewind the video a couple of times to be sure, but it was unmistakable. There I was, close up to the stage right next to my friend Mark as we were yowling along with the writhing crowd!
On the one hand, I guess it shouldn't have surprised me, I really did see a lot of Twisted back then. I didn't specifically remember this show, but this was a mind-numbing 38 years ago! This was Reagan -was-President, Disco-sucking, hair on my head 38 years ago! Me and Mark, as we were, probably 20 years old, just barely older than my daughter is now. DAMN!
A lot of water under the bridge since then. I showed the video to my family (mostly unimpressed) but I was saddened to think that I could not call Mark to show him and share the shock, he passed away a few years ago. But there he was, probably a bit drunk, but still on his feet at the end of Twisted's show, handing out copies of Kick-Ass Monthly.
I was moved to reopen this blog, to mark this occasion. I can't talk about it with Mark, so the internet will have to do. It was the internet that brought back this memory for me, so I suppose it's probably poetic justice.
I probably should spend less time in the damn recliner also.
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