Inflation hits a high note at rock concerts

The last I heard, the cost of a Bruce Springsteen ticket will soon be equal to three times the national debt. Who would buy such an expensive ticket? Simple: the person who wants to sell it for a price equal to four times the national debt.

You may have heard of the controversy. Springsteen tickets went on sale for an absurd amount of money, and within a few hours, the best seats were so expensive it was doubtful Springsteen himself could afford to attend the show. That would make for an interesting evening, no?

"Bruce will be a little late; he's negotiating a loan from the Swiss government."

If you can afford it and need to go, well, enjoy yourself. I cannot imagine spending $5,000 to see Springsteen, particularly if binoculars are involved. The other day I saw news of an impending concert by a group I've long enjoyed — one of those "last chance" events where they pair up with another group from the penultimate decade of the previous century. The tickets were $500. I looked to see if there was an option that did not include sitting on stage playing with the band, but, no, that was hoi polloi seating.

The worst part is, it's not even seating.

The one thing about concerts I remember disliking intensely: The very first note sounds, and people in the front row stand up. The row behind them stands up, and so on, until everyone is on their feet for the duration of the event. Whoa! We now have a view that's about two feet higher than we did when we were sitting!

You say, "Why would you want to sit? It's rock and roll! Get up and groove!" OK, but I do not, per se, groove. Lutherans raised in North Dakota are generally groove-impaired. You can bop your leg up and down when you sit, but if you do that while standing you look as if you are trying to shake a mouse out of your pant leg.

In other words, it is entirely permissible to rock out while sitting. When you're driving and a great song comes on the radio, you don't stick your head through the sunroof and shout "WOOO." You sit and rock in place.

That's the other thing I hated about concerts: the WOOOs. Roughly translated, it means "I am enjoying this event and have a sudden need to impart that knowledge to others, preferably during the most emotional part of a very subtle song."

The WOOO in the slow number is a sign of desperation, really: "Hey, wait a minute, we have stopped rocking. Is this permanent? Will we rock no more? Maybe I'd better shout WOOO to remind everyone that additional rocking is still possible, and should be encouraged."

They will WOOO during some Springsteen song when he's all throaty and croony, summoning some sad broken moment in a common man's heart, and the spell will be broken. If I wanted to spend $5,000 to have a spell broken, I'd fly to Transylvania and hire a fortune teller.

You probably can get in for less than $5,000, but let's say you pay a grand. A grand! When I was in high school in Fargo, Blue Oyster Cult came to town. They were one of my favorite bands, and I was keen to go. The price was $6. It was all general admission, which meant you could elbow your way closer if you wanted to use your elbows.

A few years ago. my wife and I had dinner with the guitarist for Blue Oyster Cult, and his wife. Lovely people, smart and funny, with tales to tell. My portion of the bill was about $30, which, adjusted for inflation, was the cost of my ticket to his show many years ago.

Granted, this was dinner, not a concert. When he and his wife left the restaurant, I told my wife to stay seated, because I know how this works — we applaud, and then he'll come back and do an encore!