cities in dust

The last concert I saw before I moved from Salt Lake City was Siouxsie and the Banshees at the Fairgrounds.


It was a perfect July night, not too hot, not too many bugs. It was the last time I probably was going to hang out with this group of friends, and it was a bit gut wrenching. Friends are so important when you are 16, and I was being taken away from them. At least, that's how I saw it as a 16 year old.
This was the era of the real life SLC Punk.

It was the mid 1980's. There was a pretty cool underground music scene, and there were those who were part of it. Those were my friends, and I knew I would never find that perfect combination of coolness again. They were all good people. Sure, they looked a little different, but it was no different from being a flower child or a bobby soxer or a gangsta wannabe nowadays.

Most of them came from good homes, and their parents understood that this was a passing phase, and that one day they would be normal, productive members of society. News flash: we all did. We are all married, with kids, and working regular jobs and morphing into our parents. Well, maybe not that much morphing, but we did turn out ok.
But that was a bit of a digression.
Siouxsie was the last show I saw in Salt Lake before I moved to NJ. I had gone skiing earlier that day-there was still that much snow pack.

I remember getting ready for the show-spiking up my hair, wearing the right shade of black, and being prepared to rock out.

Siouxsie did not disappoint, and it was an amazing show. I wanted to soak in every moment of it, because I could sense that it was the end of an era for me.