classic concert moments

I recently read an online piece in which the author described some magical moments he'd experienced at concerts.

I knew what he meant - I've been to loads of gigs, most of them pretty good, but a handful have had moments that absolutely floored me. Moments where my hair has stood on end, moments where I've been reduced to tears, moments where I literally held my breath.

The very first gig I saw was David Bowie at Milton Keynes Bowl, July 3rd 1983 marked the last show of the Serious Moonlight European tour, and was also exactly the tenth anniversary of the last ever Ziggy Stardust gig. The crowd was buzzing with rumours that loads of Ziggy songs would be played. In fact only one song from that album made the set list that night, one of the least remembered too - "Star". But the rest of the gig was wonderful anyway. Oddly however it was the full on blast of "White Light / White Heat" a song that I was only slightly familiar with, that really blew me away that night. The combination of Earl Slick's superb guitar and the power of the horn section was astounding.

One of the most amazing moments came at the David Sylvian concert in 1988. The show began with two lengthy instrumentals. Sylvian shuffled on stage with the band, his hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing baggy trousers and what looked like someone else's cardigan. It was a long way from the heavily made up, sharp suited Japan days. The instrumentals were great mood setters, but then the opening chords of the beautiful "Orpheus" began and real shivers were sent down my spine. I can't explain it, but the whole song left me tingling and I was unaware of anything else but the music - an almost out of body experience.

That sort of moment is extremely rare but has occasionally happened since.

It happened again the next time I saw Sylvian. He played the Royal Albert Hall with Robert Fripp. The whole gig was brilliant as they played lots from the new, and very noisy, album The First Day. Then they played "Damage", haunting and quiet. Just Sylvian at the keyboard, Fripp playing some fragile and delicate soundscapes, and Trey Gunn on occasional bass. The vocals were achingly sad, and Sylvian sang them with such passion. It was an amazingly beautiful brand new song that no-one had heard before, yet the whole place listened in hushed silence, which was quite something. This performance can be found on the live album Damage, and it's just as moving on the record. Any time I play it I still feel the same emotion that I felt in my seat at the Albert Hall.

In 1989 I was near the front at the Town and Country Club for my first Dead Can Dance concert. After an acappella song of stunning power from Lisa Gerrard, the band then launched into "The Host Of Seraphim". This track is amazing on record, emotional, powerful, and devastatingly gorgeous - on record it seems like Lisa's soaring voice has been multi tracked and layered, but to my astonishment she sang it just the same in concert. It was utterly spellbinding, the audience was transfixed, completely silent in awe and amazement at the music that poured forth.

The next year and I was only a few rows from the front for the Bowie greatest hits show at Milton Keynes again. He'd been telling everyone that this Sound + Vision tour would be the last time he'd feel obliged to play the obvious hits, so every track promised to be special - possibly the last time we'd hear them live. I was so familiar with all of Bowie's songs and I had seen an earlier show on this tour so I was expecting simply to have a great time. Unexpectedly, the opening chords of "Space Oddity" nearly had me in tears; I can't explain why as I'm not even an especially big fan of this song, but there was a majesty and beauty about the start of the song that affected me deeply.

The last Bowie show I ever saw (and most likely it will be the last Bowie show I will ever see, as he shows no signs of breaking his retirement) was at Wembley Arena. A terrible barn of a venue, but I had good seats along the side, raised up above the floor. At a couple of points - the mass sing along with "Starman" was one, the sound of the crowd as one, with DB belting out the song - the atmosphere was something I'd never experienced before. Such a gloriously happy feeling tangibly spreading across 10,000 people. And looking out across the crowd as it swayed and sang along to "Life On Mars?" brought tears to my eyes again. It was amazing to think that all these songs that had meant so much to me for 25 years or more were being performed so brilliantly, right there. All these songs that were really an important part of my life that I never thought I'd hear in concert. And everyone else obviously felt the same. Fantastic.

A few years earlier watching Roxy Music at Hammersmith in 2001 I had the same sort of feeling. Waves of sheer happiness and goosebumps as Andy Mackay played that glorious saxophone solo on "A Song For Europe". The power of the music was simply magical.

There are loads of other top concert moments -
In the front row at the Manchester Iggy Pop gig in 1988 - he fell on me more than once, it made my night!
Kraftwerk motionless behind their podiums yet keeping the absolute attention of every member of the audience at the Festival Hall in 2004;
Tin Machine - both nights at Brixton in 1991. So great to see Bowie in a smallish venue, up close and having fun. And he had total control of the crowd. Incredible performer;
Television at the Town and Country Club in 1992, a band I never thought I'd see live, but have seen them numerous times since and every show has been thrilling;
Daniel Lanois at his first ever UK show in 1990 (where we sat behind Brian Eno and had better seats than Peter Gabriel) and in 2011 with his new band Black Dub;
James in 1997 - one of my favourite bands and a mesmerising performance;
King Crimson in 1996, playing loads of favourites and a very rare outing for "21st Century Schizoid Man" which really caught us all out - the roar from the crowd was enormous;
The Rolling Stones at Wembley (twice) in 1990 - there's a band who know how to put on a stadium show;
Iggy at Brixton in 1991 - possibly the loudest gig ever although the Stooges at Hammersmith in 2007 and 2010 might come close, but what a consummate performer, so much energy;
Peter Murphy's recent brilliant shows are both hilarious and totally engaging. He's a tremendously warm performer, involving everyone in the crowd.

There are loads more, but the ones above are just a few of those that really affected me; when, at the risk of sounding terribly pseudy and pretentious, I felt a real connection with the music. Or to slightly misquote Robert Fripp - 'Music leaned over and took me into her confidence'.

And yes, that does sound pretentious... but you know what, I don't care!