Testament to the Last Show

Music has always been my drug of choice.

The addiction started while listening to old tunes in my dads truck as we drove to town, air drumming the dashboard and belting out lyrics together as if we were on stage in front of a crowd of fans.

That yearning evolved with me into adolescence, where I would be found strewn across our living room floor wearing headphones that were still too big for my ears, lost in the guitar riffs and drum solos of dads small record collection. Sometimes I would catch Mom shaking her head in shame trying to understand why her son would rather lay on the floor semi-motionless than be outside playing ball with his friends.

I’m sure she worried a lot in my younger years about what I might amount to.

Eventually I grew old enough to work part time helping ole' Mac fix cars downtown, where every dollar of my earnings went to my very own collection of rock albums. From Pink Floyd to Dire Straits, and everything in between. I am not sure there was ever a silent moment between these two ears. Mom continued to shake her head as my teachers shared their profound worries on how it appeared I had little ambition on excelling beyond high school. I never understood the concern, my grades were good and I always made it to the next class alongside my peers every fall, but because I didn't know if I wanted to be a doctor or astronaut when I was done with high school, their concern grew.

Just before graduation, tickets to the biggest show set to play in our city went up for sale. That show sold out in two short hours while I was stuck under a broken down Chevy in Mac's garage. I torqued the wrench on the transmission case so hard that I saw my knuckles turn white when I heard. It felt like I had just missed the biggest opportunity of my young life.

Desperation followed that anger and I decided to head to the arena anyway. Perhaps there was a small chance someone might be selling an extra ticket outside, or maybe I could find a way to sneak in and see the band play from the rafters.

Luck was not on my side that rainy May evening. No one was selling tickets and security was everywhere.

I could hear the crowd roar through the thick concrete walls as I wandered around the building looking for any way in. My mind reeling as I imagined the lead singer approaching the mic, signaling to the rest of the band that he was ready to go. Just as I put my head against the wall to listen in, I heard the lead guitarist strike his first chord. The crowd went wild, and so did I in that heavy downpour.

In that moment, a fire was lit inside of me and the next day, I bought myself a beat up six string that I found in a second hand store. I am telling you, that guitar felt as if it was meant for my hands and I knew then, that one day I would be just like that lead guitarist, starting my very own show.

Shortly after graduation, my friends and I started this band. Jesse here on the drums, Mick on the mic, and Dozer over there on bass.

We joined forces because we shared the same insane passion for music and later spent years in Dozers basement annoying our parents to no end beginning our journey that led to tonight. Evolving from empty bar rooms to sold out arenas like this one in no time.

I stand before you tonight in awe, as I recount these memories before beginning our farewell show. You see, this story wouldn't be worth telling without all of you out in the crowd. All this may have started with one beat up guitar, but without you, the fans, that guitar would have been back in that second hand store, waiting for someone else to discover it.

This story doesn’t end here tonight. You see, just a few hours ago as we were bringing in our gear, I saw a shadow from my past by those backstage doors. Just outside the gates, was a young lad, standing outside THIS sold out show just like I did 20 years ago. No ticket to be found.

Lucky for him, it hadn’t started raining before I found him.

Put your hands together for Chris, come on out.

Twenty years ago, I bought myself this beat up six string and it changed my life forever. Today I want to hand it to you. The story you shared backstage was much like my own. I saw the stars in your eyes, and I know that one day you will be our next jukebox hero, entertaining crowds just like this one with your own band.

You know what to do with it Chris...

Hit it!