Because we live our lives in the now, we inevitably forget things that were long ago, standard and unexceptional. Things change, the gap between then and now grows ever wider. Take gigs for example, I’ve been researching shows from the early 70s to create posters for them. And I was reminded how we found out that someone was touring. We almost always found out from the music press first. Seeing those press ads for tours really brings it all back.
Because we didn’t have credit or debit cards to buy tickets over the phone, you had to go to the box office and hand over the money. They’d show you the seating plan and you’d select your tickets. Buying over the phone was sometimes allowed. They’d reserve your tickets for a couple of weeks while you sent money in the mail, sellotaped to a sheet of paper or with a postal order (do they still exist?) and a Stamped Addressed Envelope. It all seems very analogue doesn’t it? I mean, I haven’t carried actual money for years.
It’s fascinating to see which bands were placed together. For example, how many Rory Gallagher fans wanted to see support band Greenslade in 1973? And there are bands like Strider who are long forgotten but played hundreds of early 70s gigs. I also discovered Steve Hillage supported Robin Trower in Liverpool in 1973, two years before Hillage’s first solo album, when I assumed he was still in Gong. OK, such things are meat and drink to me, even if they don’t interest anyone else. I realise I’m overfocused.
How did we manage? It wasn’t difficult was it? I remember, one Monday morning, I think in October 1979, nipping into Newcastle City Hall to the box office window which was on the left as you went in and buying 2 Alvin Lee (with Ten Years Later but it wasn’t advertised as such) tickets for the following month - £3.00 each - and was surprised to be offered the best tickets front and centre row 8. She showed me the seating plan and it was virtually all available. I think I was in just after they’d been put on sale. By the time the gig came around, it was still a bit sparse. My halls of residence were just five minutes away so I often got tickets early but my recollection is that most shows were full, it certainly was for Trower two months later. I was in the front, central block for that too. That was £3.25.
I look back on those days of queuing for tickets with affection. There was something real about going to a box office, instead of refreshing a website. It was part of the rock n roll experience and connected you to it all. Sometimes I think we’ve worshipped convenience at the expense of actual experience. Some record shops had a book of tickets but I always found they were in suboptimal positions, so I preferred the box office especially as I was just round the corner at the Poly. I also think the physical tickets provide an opportunity to curate your life with such memorabilia. I wish I had kept them but fortunately many did. I recall the thrill of ‘getting a ticket’. It felt like a real achievement, especially if you had to sleep on the street to get them.
Younger people might think it’s a bit odd that so many people have held on to their tickets all the years, but what they may not understand is how precious they were, not just blithely downloaded but often they represented a struggle and some effort. Remember how carefully you’d lay them aside ahead of the gig? We invested emotion in them. They were precious. Yet they were just squares of printed paper, but they were a major part of our rock n roll world.
A major part of our rock n roll world...
