THE GIG: Living Colour

THE VENUE: Hollywood Casino Amphitheater, Maryland Heights Missouri

THE DATE: July 9, 2022

(Editor’s note: What follows is a chronicle that might wind up in my follow-up to I Can’t Be the Only One Hearing This. I’m writing it now because he’s fresh in my mind and I don’t want to lose it. The Muse is fickle that way.)

I didn’t want to go to this show.

Fret not … it had nothing to do with the band.

I love Living Colour. I’ve seen them live at least four times. That may not seem like a lot to some people. But I’m one of those guys who likes to see as many different bands as possible. So, four times is a LOT.

But I digress.

I didn’t want to go to this gig. Here’s the thing:

In August of 2020, I retired after working as a St. Louis Metropolitan police officer for 25 years. Two months later, I moved to Chicago. I’d had enough of St. Louis. The PTSD caught up to me. Every crime on the news was a trigger. The city was killing me by inches. Getting out was the best thing for me.

I’m happy in Chicago. I have been since Day One. So, when I got a call asking me to come back, I was less than enthusiastic.

Then Bob, one of my oldest friends, called me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. Although it took me a while to get there.

Bob is a huge fan of El Monstero, a Pink Floyd tribute band based in St. Louis. They are a top tier act. They have Floyd’s songs nailed and often add their own touches along way. And their stage show rivals any other Pink Floyd tribute act. Hell, they get in the neighborhood of Floyd themselves!

Bob wanted me to come back for the show. The price of the ticket would be on him. I said no. I wasn’t mentally ready to go back to St. Louis. To make things worse, the gig was at the Hollywood Casino Amphitheater, a venue I vowed never to revisit after a bad experience I had when seeing Radiohead there in 2007. I detest big rooms, and this was no incentive to hop on a train.

“Living Colour is opening,” Bob added, well aware of my love for the band. I still said no. But Bob was persistent. “What if I can get us really good seats,” he said. “I’ve got a connection. I can make it happen.”

I decided to call what sounded like a bluff. “If you get really good seats,” I said, “I’ll consider coming back.” Bob said he’d call me back. While he worked on great seats, I decided to see if the St. Louis Cardinals — my favorite baseball team — would be in town that weekend. As it happens, they were.

Damn. Two events in one weekend. A normal person would think this was a good weekend. Plus, I could be in and out of town in three days. Just for the hell if it, I called my friend and former cop partner Leonard — who was second in command of Cardinals security — to see if I could get a couple of tickets for the game. I had no expectations. “I’ll call you back,” he said. Fine and dandy.

Not five minutes after I hung up with Leonard, Bob called back. “How does second row center sound?” he asked proudly.

Dammit. That’s pretty good. My resistance was weakening. “Let me check on one more thing,” I said. “I’ll get back to you.” Almost on cue, Leonard called. “You’re all set,” he said. “I got you four seats along the third baseline.” Tickets like that are not cheap. I asked how much it would run me. “Don’t worry about it,” was his reply.

Two big events at no charge. Then I found an affordable hotel near the amphitheater, meaning I wouldn’t have to go into the city until the ballgame.^ Then I found an affordable hotel downtown, away from where I worked. It was all coming together.

I had called Bob’s bluff and he had a better hand. I called him back. “I’m in,” I said. And that was that. I was going back to St. Louis. By the way, the train tickets were reasonable, too.

Just to see if I could swing it, I contacted a couple of my friends in El Monstero to see if I could score a press pass, since I would already be so close to the stage. Wouldn’t you know it, I had a photo pass less than two hours later.

I arrived in St. Louis four hours before the gig. Enough time to check into my hotel, grab some food, and head to the venue. Everything flowed smoothly. Within my phone were both my concert and baseball tickets. The hotels were paid for. All was right in the world. I was right where I was supposed to be.

And that is how I wound up taking some of my favorite photos. These pics were taken with my iPhone. I need to go into my hard drives to retrieve the other shots. But I love these.

Did I mention that Living Colour was opening this show? That’s how big El Monstero is. And 15,000 or so people showed up to prove it.

Living Colour’s set was fantastic as usual. Corey Glover, Vernon Reid, Doug Wimbish, and Will Calhoun throw themselves into their set every time. They leave nothing on the field, as it were. Once again, it was a joy to see them.

They also came out to sit in with the headliners. Vernon played a killer solo during “Comfortably Numb.” It was a great night.

Best of all, I was able to get through the weekend without anything triggering f me. I was even able to sneak in an h expected reunion with a high school chum I hadn’t seen in fifteen years and breakfast with a couple of my former co-workers. I must confess, it was a great weekend.

Sometimes you can go home again.

^ I grew up in the St. Louis suburbs and I did no policing there, so being in that area was no big deal. Busch Stadium is downtown, but I was never assigned there outside of working security at the stadium. I figured I could handle it. I would just avoid watching the news.

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