In my time on Earth I’ve had some silly, stupid encounters with rock stars.

Backstage at a Triumph concert in the 1980s, I witnessed Yngwie Malmsteen stick his tongue down the throat of an appreciative female fan.* During that same backstage experience, Triumph’s Mike Levine shooed me away as I tried to get an autograph.

I got to attend several of these events because the dad of my best friend worked for a local concert promoter. For a few nights each year, half-deaf pal Jesse G and I rocked out at the Brown County Arena. Denim and leather.

Lovin’ every minute of it.

At age 12, while wandering around Water Tower Place in Chicago, I spotted Loverboy composer Mike Reno and I excitedly followed him into a leather-jacket store. I tugged on his already-purchased leather jacket and asked him:

“Are you in the band Loverboy?”

“Yeah,” he said with a slight grin.

The store salesman shot me a “goddamn stupid kid” look and shook his head. Reno chortled. They returned their focus to the only thing that mattered — leather outerwear.

Later that year, I got frisked and manhandled at one of Reno’s Loverboy concerts. A security guard warned me that I “WAS GONNA GO DOWNTOWN!” after I reflexively pulled my arm away from his groping fingers. My sister’s then-boyfriend, who looked exactly like Ernie Douglas from My Three Sons, intervened on my behalf. Way to go, Big Ern!

That’s the kind of shit that goes down at a Loverboy concert, though. It was a frizzy-haired swamp of pain and vomit.

Anyway, here’s the boys sweatin’ up a sexy storm in a rocky desert canyon.

*Her buttocks trembled with lyrical delight.

“Audio Files” is published sporadically and whenever possible.

Tweet  Print This Post

Tags: Michael Cade's audio files // Add Comment »