[cyncooper]

I am WAY behind on this thread, but since everybody is listing their concerts, mine are:

Gordon Lightfoot; Peter Paul and Mary; BeeGees; America; Emerson, Lake and Palmer; Steve Miller; Fleetwood Mac (x3); Nils Lofgren; Marshall Tucker Band; Eagles; Blue Oyster Cult; One concert: George Thoroughgood and the Destroyers, Heart and Rolling Stones (I won tickets to that concert while living here in Tucson, but concert up in Boulder, CO); James Taylor; Journey; Bob Seger; Huey Lewis and the News; Bangles; Meatloaf; Ringo Starr and his All-Star Band; Moody Blues.

I just know I'm leaving some out. Regrets at not being able to see for various reasons: Elton John in his heyday. We also had tickets once to see Dan Fogelberg and it was cancelled--no raincheck.

Many of the concerts were at Milwaukee's Summerfest. Still love it. I'm not counting the Britney Spears performance that my daughter wanted to see a couple years ago. Thankfully daughter has moved on from Britney. However, she is now a Sheryl Crow fan. LOL Oh, and acts at Summerfest like the Turtles, which are still fun to watch.

[cyncooper]

Just remembered we did see Roy Orbison at the Pabst Stage at Summerfest in the eighties.

[weegee]

Biggest concert regret. Being too young (by less than a year) to see Roy Orbison. He died 5 days later.

[Hank Rearden]

Nils Lofgren. Man, that guy kicked ass in the 70s, didn't he?

And I had the opportunity to see George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers in San Francisco in about '76, just before they broke through. That was when you could get drunk with the band after the show because everybody else had just wandered away.

I also remember walking down Telegraph Avenue on a Friday night with a shoebox full of tickets, trying desperately to get someone, anyone, to come to the UC Berkeley campus to see some new band from overseas. Supertramp, it was. Hell of a show in Zellerbach hall; I think there were about 200 of us there.

Getting blasted with Journey, trying to get Tom Waits to look up from his shoes and stop chainsmoking long enough to do an interview, supplying Kleenex after Kleenex to an incredibly flu-ridden Debbie Harry, drinking at the Rathskeller with Eric Idle, wondering how long it'd take for somebody to recognize him (about an hour).

Good times. Name-droppin' times. Now, only my dog appreciates me. And you know what? That's enough.