VITAL IDOL

   The Friday Night Bug Juice tour begins at 10 p.m....

   Unless Billy Idol is playing at The Fillmore downtown on a Friday night.  Then the tour starts at 7:30 p.m. when two work weary brothers pile into a filthy car for a dark and subdued trip into the belly of Detroit.

   Parking was no issue and set us back $10.  We opted not to hit one of the surrounding bars and went straight into The Fillmore for what was sure to be some great people watching.  Strangely, Tony and I were given our drinking wristbands without having to produce ID.  Out of respect, I guess.

   Once past security, we got in the queue for beers.  An extra large beer, Bud or Bud Light only, served in a flimsy plastic cup is $9.  Did I mention it was not particularly cold.  Once served, we walked up the stairs and hung out on the balcony overlooking the entrance.  It was a perfect perch to watch the freaks enter and get their drink on.  

   Young Brother and I had only been there a few minutes, when out of nowhere, a couple appeared at our side.  They were bombed, him more than her, and started talking with Tony and I like we were old friends.  They were from Up North, Manistee according to him, Elk Rapids according to her, and were staying downtown to see their favorite rocker, Mr. Billy Idol.  The camouflage trim on his shirt told me he was not bullshitting about his hometown.

   In twenty minutes, we learned that her goal was to sit on Billy’s lap at some point in the night, that he was working lots of OT and that was fine because every hour at work was an hour away from her, that her nipples were like gum drops, that they liked to camp in nearby Mesick, that they had recently had sex in the back of a car while a friend was driving, that the sex took so long that the driver asked when they might finish, and most disturbingly that they wanted to spend more time with Tony and I.

  

 Luckily, she had to find the ladies room (I guess there is no such thing as a tarts room), and that was our cue to split.  Later, Tony and I would try to figure out what it was that led these two to single us out for friendship at the crowded venue.  Still don’t have an answer for that one.

   Shortly after ditching our ribald new buddies, we made our way into the madness that is The Fillmore’s main floor general admission, the lights dimmed and the band took the stage. 

   Things started slowly for a variety of reasons:  Billy opened with a mid-tempo song from his new CD, the packed crowd was jammed into the stairs leaving no room to maneuver, security was intense and relentless and Tony and I could not find a little spot that we could call our own.

   After a couple of slow and somewhat mild tunes watched while being hassled and jostled, we sounded retreat and headed back to the bar to replenish and freshen our strategy.  

   “We might as well be in the parking lot listening to a Billy Idol CD.”  A spot on observation from Anthony.  We surveyed the room.  A decision to flank right was made.  Strangely, it was now easy to move and we found a niche to the right, close to the stage with a decent view of Billy.  The only real issue was the presence of the Lithuanian men’s basketball team in front of us.  These dudes had huge heads and swayed drunkenly back and forth.  If you went right when they went left, it was not so bad.

   While not perfect, we were home and could concentrate on drinking and watching the show.

   First, Billy looked great.  Of course he still has the cool hair and a ton of swagger.  He always gives you a good look at his shredded physique, either through an unbuttoned shirt or, during the hit songs, no shirt at all.   And as Billy says during the outro of Dancing With Myself, “I sweat, and I sweat, and I sweat.”  The effort he puts into singing and moving is significant and it shows.

   His band is tight and also gives you a lot to take in, especially long time lead guitarist Steve Stevens.  I told Tony that I thought he resembled Gary Oldman’s Dracula.  Tony agreed, though he felt Stevens was a bit more pale.  This guy has the rock look down pat with big hair, bigger guitar and the ever present cig.  

   The crowd was drunk and intense.  If you are the type that does not like to be touched or jostled, this was not the place for you.  It was a slightly older bunch, and there were more women than at most rock shows.  I know that the ladies liked the songs, but judging by their yells and gyrations, they liked the guy belting out the songs even more (even though my wife did not attend, I believe you could safely include her in the smitten with Billy camp; she certainly asked about him a lot).

   The pace of the show picked up about halfway through with Generation X song Ready, Steady, Go and Doors cover LA Woman leading the way.  Idol is no rookie.  He replaced the lyrics in LA Woman with calls of “Detroit Woman” or “Motor City Woman”.  Would you be surprised to know that the crowd, especially the female half, found this staple of any rock show delightful?

   After about ninety minutes of well paced, hit laden rock, Billy let the crowd know that the show was coming to an end with Rebel Yell, easily the best song of the night.  It brought the entire band to the front of the stage and Idol weaved in and out of them with a wild look on his face.  I swear, his deep set eyes actually glowed at some points in the performance.  

   The band split after that, the crowd went crazy (I did not see one lighter held high in the air...Sigh), and only Idol and Stevens returned.  

   “Show Detroit how a hit is played”, Billy demanded.  Stevens responded with the opening chords of White Wedding.  The two stood close together while the first two verses were played as a duo.  The rest of the band then took their places for the rocked out conclusion of their biggest hit.  

   A short drum solo morphed into show closer Mony Mony.  Of course the entire crowd joined in as the house lights came up.  Billy donned a guitar toward the end of this tune and hit various rock star poses.  The Fillmore lost it as the song crashed to an end.  Idol brought the entire band to the front of the stage and humorously introduced each member, before thanking Detroit for making him “so fucking happy” and running off.

   I am having a tough time thinking of a better rock front man than I saw last night.

   I am also having a tough time thinking of a better way to spend a Friday night.  Boozing, music, people watching, hanging with Tony.  Not bad.  Thanks, Billy.

Cheers!  Jim