Yesterday, unbidden, a memory appeared in consciousness.
It was a Dire Straits concert that I’d gone to in 1992.
I hadn’t been much of a fan up to that point. They’d had a couple of hits, so I knew some of their music. But I hadn’t been marked on the name. But hey, it sounded like fun.
Chip was the guy who found out they were playing, and he and I and Gil went to see them. Memory said they were either playing in Worcester or Providence. Wikipedia which has a better memory than me, says Worcester.
Dire Straits
I remember the start of the concert. A sense of anticipation. I remember that there was a kind of scrim at the front of the stage and when the show started it suddenly disappeared, and there was the band.
I found a video of the concert in another city, and I remembered what built the sense of anticipation a 2-minute background riff with lights playing on the scrim. This video doesn’t do a good job of showing the scrim disappearing. And the other ones don’t show it the way I remember it, so I’ll settle for a blended version.
I came away from the concert a Dire Straits fan for life. I bought most of their albums and played them endlessly.
I used to practice the drum part from “Money for Nothing.” There’s a steady backbeat with occasional riffs, and I’d practice the rhythm and the backbeat while driving.
The other thing I remember from that night was a girl, a row in front of us, who got up on her seat and danced for most of the concert. She was a pretty nice dancer. She had a pretty cute butt. I couldn’t decide what was more fun watching: Mark Knopfler and the band, or the dancing girl on the chair.
I also particularly remember the sweet saxophone intro to “On every street.”
It’s hard to pick a favorite Dire Straits song, but if I had to pick one, right now, I’d pick “Telegraph Road.” It’s 14 minutes long on the album, 12 and change on this 2015 video that lets you see Mark Knopfler’s guitar work.
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