Big concerts. Great expectations. I remember my first truly big concert; it was Metallica playing the Bežigrad stadium in Ljubljana in 1999. By then my high-school buddies and I had become stalwart patrons of every underground club in Zagreb, which mostly meant we’d get obnoxiously drunk on a bench in one of Zagreb’s numerous parks every weekend (and many a week-night), and afterward we would shamble on to whichever club was nearest and had bouncers most lenient about letting in a bunch of drunken louts with as much petty cash between them as to afford a small glass of watered-down beer. Usually, we ended up in Jabuka, often by creeping in through a hole in the back wall or by climbing onto the roof of the adjoining school and jumping into the club’s open courtyard, or in Kulušić, which is now closed and has a big wooden cross nailed to its entrance, but which used to host a pretty fun night called Blue Moon where the DJ played rockin’ oldies but goldies until midnight and contemporary rock and alternative hits after that. There was also Lapidarij or Lap, a tunnel-like club in the Upper town lined with red bricks and dimly lit, perfect for smuggling in your own booze and chatting up grungy girls who, like ourselves, were mainly spotty teenagers ensconced deep within the dark and the warm fog of cigarette smoke, loud wall of rock music reinforcing our comfort zone and loosening every inhibition.

 

Later on came other clubs like Attack, Kset, KSFF, Tvornica and Močvara, but the majority of our formative years were spent in those three clubs listening to local punk and rock bands perform. Big foreign names of rock would occasionally grace our shores, like when the Ramones played here in 1990 and 1994, or Body Count in ’97, but Zagreb was usually steered clear from when such bands undertook European tours. The war was one obvious reason for this, but the situation did not improve much for quite some time after the hostilities had ended. Slovenia and its capital Ljubljana were spared the fighting and it is there that the big bands first started playing concerts, even with the war still raging on in parts of Croatia. Names like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Green Day, The Cramps, Biohazard, Dog Eat Dog, R.E.M. all stormed through Ljubljana in the mid-nineties, much to the delight of those among my friends whose parents were forward thinking enough to allow them to go to these gigs, and even pay for the trip and the ticket. My parents did not share such progressive views on parenting, which, unfortunately, meant two things: first, that I continued to squander the little money I got for my allowance on cheapest wine possible, knowing full well that even if I somehow did manage to save up enough money to pay for the ticket and the trip, I still wouldn’t be allowed to go; and second, that I’ve been continually building and re-building expectations of seeing a really big and important foreign band throughout the years leading right up to the Metallica gig in Ljubljana, where these pent-up emotions were finally released in a violent blow out of vodka, crowd surfing, circle pit mayhem and more vodka.

 

Seeing the Gaslight Anthem live in Tvornica made me feel as excited as the moment I first saw the guys from Metallica walk out on stage fifteen years ago. That is hardly surprising, for it is no secret I’ve been yearning to see Gaslight Anthem live ever since the powerful mix of heartland rock and punk, rousing guitars and sing-along choruses on their debut record Sink Or Swim grabbed me by the ears and shook me like a bolt of lightning straight to the gonads the first time I’ve heard it, some six years ago. I immediately knew this was a milestone in my musical journey, similar to the time when I first heard Metallica, or Nirvana, or The Clash, or The Specials, or the Skatalites. Each of these bands was, at some point in my life, very important to me, and they all hold a special place inside my heart and on my playlist roster, but to be able to see them play live must surely be something else. Well, I was only six years old when The Clash split up; Nirvana played one of their final gigs in Ljubljana, but I have my cheapskate overbearing parents to thank for missing that historic gig; I did see Metallica, in Ljubljana, as I’ve mentioned above, so I did the Skatalites in Močvara, albeit with only two original members left alive. Nevertheless, that was a magnificent gig! The Specials have re-formed and tour once again, but as far as I know there is no indication they’ll be playing in the vicinity in the near future.

 

Bands of such personal significance, at least for me, don’t just pop up all over the map, even though I regularly scan the Net for fresh musical heroes, and that is exactly why this GA gig meant so much to me. That night in Tvornica, I found myself once again a wide-eyed teenager drunk on vodka, intoxicated by the realization that nothing but a few measly feet separate me from the very people who gave me more than enough reasons not to doubt that honest, hard-working rock ‘n’ roll, if done right, is still the best music on this planet, and certainly the one most suitable for getting your rocks off. Every single person in the audience knew that, if not from the opening bars of ”Stay Vicious”, the new song not yet appropriated by the fans’ hearts, then surely from the one which followed right after it, the monstrous ”The 59 Sound”. With the song’s instantly recognizable beginning of a spirited guitar lick followed by chugging drumming, the audience exploded into a raging sea of raised hands crested with billion glistening specks of spilled beer. The crowd’s sincerely boisterous sing-along reverberated from the walls fortifying singer Brian‘s eager renditions of ”Handwritten”, ”Get Hurt”, ”45”, ”Too Much Blood”, reaching fever pitch during the (almost) acoustic performance of another of Gaslight’s signature tunes, ”Great Expectations”. As Brian promised, once they had shifted into play mode, not much talking or pause happened between the songs in the well balanced set which was culled from all albums, without any perceivable emphasis on the new record. Personally, I was most pleased to hear the two opening songs from The 59 Sound, my favourite rocker ”Howl” from Handwritten, ”1000 Years”, ”Sweet Morphine” and ”Red Violins” from the latest Get Hurt album, and the beautiful slow songs ”Have Mercy” and ”She Loves You” right before the closer ”The Backseat”. Hey, who am I kidding? I would have been in seventh heaven even if they played only Sabbath’s ”War Pigs” all night.

Truly, this was a concert to remember, and one I will certainly be referencing in some gig report fifteen years from now. If, that is, I’d still be able to get my rocks on then.

 

Nenad Lukač

 

photo by Nikolina Pernar

 

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