Def Leppard- September 13th, 2007 Amphitheater at Clark County

Part One:

Amy worked. Screwed everything up. Drunk by 9:30pm. Missed most of Styx. Climbed from VIP box to VIP box. Went home with member of stage crew. Thank you and goodnight.

Part Two:

Of course, I am writing this in retrospect, not having had any idea that I would actually have the opportunity to share with KGON listeners the concert experience that I was lucky enough to witness. Had I known that I might post this on KGON.com someday, I might have drank less beer, paid MUCH more attention to the band, and possibly kept a little notebook in my pocket to record the set list and other minute concert details. Alas, all you people get is an alcohol-soaked memory three months later, written at midnight on a Tuesday because I can’t sleep, yet for some reason, can’t stop thinking about how I have to get the Def Leppard review up on the website.

So the day starts out with much excitement at the station, just like any other day when there is a big concert. After the final details are finalized, the few remaining tickets doled out and the KGON Expedition (soon to be a much smaller and more eco-friendly vehicle) packed up, I head up to the Amphitheater in Clark County.

Incidentally, the Amphitheater is currently my favorite venue from which to see concerts. Not just because my best friend works there and takes me on little mini-walks up to the front during the shows and we walk the length of the stage. I mean, we’re talking close enough that Slash was practically sweating on me and I witnessed Chrissy Hynde almost come to blows with a woman in the front row who wouldn’t stop video taping (Pretenders concert review to be posted soon!), but because I love the covered seating area, the cold air late at night, the starry sky from the grass (oh, who am I kidding!? I’ve never actually sat on the lawn!) all the things that make an essential concert experience: including the eight dollar beers. I digress....

So when I arrive at the Amphitheater, I have one hundred things to coordinate. That’s my job: promotions coordinator. I coordinate. First, I make sure that the person manning the KGON tent at the front of the venue is set up in the right spot, has all of the things he needs and is ready to go. In the meantime, I stash my coat and purse in my friend’s office, drop off tickets at will call and take a bathroom break. Then, I traverse the entire length of the venue to the other side and make sure that the person manning other tent from our sister station 1080 The FAN, is all set up in the right spot, has everything he needs and is all set to go.

This is where everything goes wrong.

My boss, LK, gets there at the same time I do. We both see that the FAN tent is in the wrong area and must be moved immediately. This is a new coordinator working for us so he has no clue what’s going on. We start to tear his set-up down and move him to the other side next to the broadcast tent. The whole time, LK is pissed! I can feel her glaring darts into the back of my head, wondering to herself why she hired such a dundering fool to be in charge of KGON’s biggest concert of the year thus far. I am squirming and sweating in my high heels. Sidenote: high heels are always an excellent option when trying to appear sexy and fashionable. Not so smart when having to walk the equivalent of seventeen football fields getting from one side of the amphitheater and back again fifty thousand times.

Things just get worse when we get to the other side where Iris is broadcasting live. I, in my dundering idiocy, have not thought to bring along any KGON yard signs or bannering material of any kind so it’s just Iris and the engineer sitting in a big white tent all by themselves waiting to go live on-air with Shannon back at the studio. As soon as we get over there, LK is seething, "Where are the banners? Where are our yard signs? How will people know where we are? No one can tell we are KGON!" I squirm some more and enlist help form everyone I know. Karin from our sister station 94/7 Alternative Portland, (who gives me the most awesome tickets for all the non-KGON shows! I adore her!) runs to the front to get signage, someone helps the coordinator set up the FAN tent and I squirm some more. It gets even better when the FAN coordinator (bless his heart) loses three pairs of tickets I had set aside for VIP’s and both of our cameras run out of batteries. I also forgot the guitar in my car and have to walk back to the front (again) and fetch it out of my car while a venue employee harasses me and tries to tell me that there are no guitars allowed inside the amphitheater area. Please shoot me.

I am also trying to corral all the meet and greet contest winners and keep them in an area close to the tent so we can head back to meet the band. Anyone who has ever been to a meet and greet know it’s a bunch of hurry-up-an-wait, just standing around waiting and waiting, only to be brought backstage to wait and wait some more. Not to mention the people coming up asking if they can participate in the meet and greet as well. I get to hear all kinds of stories about how "the tour manager is my brother-in-laws old roommate and would totally let me come if he knew I was here" and "I met Def Leppard fifteen years ago in Baltimore and they said if I ever went to another concert, to be sure and say hi!" If it were up to me, everyone would be allowed to go, but hey, I don’t have that kind of power. After all, I can’t even get two tents and a live broadcast set up!

Things calm down. I get LK a drink--a very strong one-- and we wait. I was on the list to take the meet and greeters back and hopefully get a guitar signed by the band for our upcoming Kidsgiving auction. LK had told me Iris was definitely on the list but we would decide between us who would go back with the guitar when the time came. I was kinda excited to meet Def Leppard. I did have pictures of them all over my room when I was in 9th grade and distinctly remember the first time I heard the entire Hysteria album. Yes, it was an album back in those days. Yes, I am that old. LK has much more experience in this field than I do and I really didn’t want to mess up anything else (was there really anything left for me to screw up) so she and Iris went backstage, got the guitar signed and my dreams of hobnobbing with the one-armed drummer and making googly eyes at Joe lay shattered on the ground. But the pressure was off! Afternote: we just auctioned that guitar off on-air and raised $6000 dollars for the Community Transitional School on that item alone! Thank you Joe Elliot!

Eight pm rolls around. We break everything down, pack it up and head in to watch the show. Well, everyone else did. I had a beer. Or six. I guess you’re starting to wonder when any type of actual concert review might begin, not just the personal anecdotes of a self-proclaimed rock and roll goddess?

I peeked inside the venue every so often to check out Styx. I really wanted to hear Come Sail Away and Lady. I didn’t think I would be so lucky as to hear Mr. Roboto, but if I did, I was damn sure going to break out into the robot! I don’t care who’s watching! I’m sure Styx was great. Yep, I think so.

I settle into our box seats, (yes, I am that spoiled) and make kitten eyes at LK, hoping she forgets all of the unpleasantness of the pre-show set-up. I look around to discover that our box is full of totally hot babes! Karin is there,, .she’s a hottie; and Celeste from Hair M and her hot blonde friend, and LK is also a six-foot-tall blonde babe! Man, what a box I am in. VIP indeed!

I drink a little more, try to gauge how much trouble I am going to be in the next day at work, try and decide how much I can drink without being too hung over to move the next day try and decide who the hot group of guys in front of us is and if I should go and sit with them. Oh yes, yes I should. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the power of alcohol!

I stumble out of my box and saunter over to the box in front of us. I climb, yes- climb, over the little fence and into their box. Then I look to my left and see the stage crew in one of the spotlight booths. They appear much cuter so I climb over the little fence and into their box. This is a true story folks. I hope my mother isn’t reading this.

I hang with the roadies, rock out to Def Leppard, and giggle coquettishly. From that point on, all I remember is how old and chubby Joe Elliot looked and how the guitar players, whose names I should totally know but am way too tired to look up, were in great shape, their ripped abs peeking out from under their strategically torn shirts and from above their acid washed jeans. Hysteria was wonderful. Armageddon It rocked. They ended the show with Photograph (I think) I remember saying out loud to cute stage crew member, "I hope they play Foolin." To which he replied, "Um, they just did." Nice.

I guess what I like most about the Amphitheater is the VIP New Phoenix Casino tent where the lines are much shorter for the bathroom but the beer is still the same price. But we get to hang out in there after the show, pretending to be VIP’s, until they force us to leave. I think Iris actually caught me using the boy’s bathroom that night. She still teases me about it to this day.

So, next summer, when Def Leppard comes to Portland again, (let’s hope) maybe Amy will pay a little bit more attention to the band and a little less to the bottle. TSO and Van Halen reviews will include much more actual reviewing. I hope.

PS- When I rolled into work Thursday afternoon around noon, only four hours late, LK wasn't mad at all. We giggled about the whole thing and chalked it up to a learning experience. 

PPS- I'm still dating said member of stage crew and now it's December.

PPPS- Since I had no real photos from the show because of my idiocy, I at least have a picture of Iris and LK with the signed guitar! (see above)

To add your two cents, sometimes synonymous with no sense, email me at alinford@entercom.com