Scorpions at Thomas & Mack Center on Aug. 3, 2010.
Scorpions at Thomas & Mack Center on Aug. 3, 2010.
The concert story that is my favorite, and it is my favorite by a wide measure, is of a Scorpions concert at Cal-Expo Amphitheater in Sacramento. It was 1984. An online list of all Scorpions' concerts lists the date as April 21.
I gulp as I consider that demarcation of time.
This was my senior year of high school, and to catch this monumental event, a merry ship of fools rumbled from Chico to Sacramento in such vehicles as an '81 Chevy Luv, a '73 Ford Capri and a '69 Chevy Camaro. The music of the Scorpions was blasting from these trucks and cars, including the lead rig, which was the little red Luv. I was allowed in that truck — VIP treatment, even then! — because I'd recorded a Scorps compilation on a Memorex metal tape.
The memories have morphed and faded over time during the retelling of this event. Was there a keg involved? Did one of our troupe actually curl up in the bed of the Luv and sleep through the entire show? Yes, and probably. None of this is recommended. We were totally out of control, but in a beguiling, "Unnamed John Hughes Project" sort of way.
The opening act that night was Bon Jovi. The real Bon Jovi, pre-worldwide fame. From the stage, the slight, brazenly maned Jon Bon Jovi actually looked like one of the teenage girls in the crowd, thousands wearing tight jeans and silk headbands and quite a bit of cheap makeup. "Runaway" was the hit of the moment. Bon Jovi performed for four minutes, or was it 40? It hardly mattered. It could have been Vixen performing for all we cared. We were there to see the great German rock gods, whom had just released "Love at First Sting" and appeared before 350,000 brave music fans at the "US Festival," which we all watched with great excitement, as Van Halen closed the hard-rock segment of that wildly entertaining show.
After that Cal-Expo concert, we were among the final stragglers in the venue's giant, dirt parking lot. As we hung out and played on car stereos the music we'd just heard live, a limousine made its way to our outpost. What-th?
We were braced for some sort of authority figure, maybe Mr. Expo himself, to bust us for ... existing, primarily. But as the car pulled close, a rear window dropped and out popped the beaming face of ... Matthias Jabs! No waaaay!
Then the car wheeled and sped off. An unreal moment, and we honestly believed we might never see this band again.
Well, last night, the Scorpions played the Thomas & Mack Center, rocking an officially announced crowd of 6,012 in an arena configuration set to accommodate 7,500. Good but not great for a weeknight show in these Troubling Economic Times.
Regardless, this is it for the Scorps. "Sting in the Tail" (the band has always had a knack for song and album titles) is to be their last release, and this tour the final time they perform live.
The lineup has changed since that night in 1984. Herman Cowbell — er, Rarebell — is no longer the drummer; the giddy James Kottak having taken over. Bassist Pawel Maciwoda is in for Francis Buchholz. But the band's front three of firecracker vocalist Klaus Meine and leering guitarists Rudolph Schenker and Jabs remains intact.
Remarkably, the Scorps live experience hasn't changed appreciably over the years.
Meine can still wail all those crazy, self-explanatory metal anthems — "The Zoo," "Tease Me, Please Me" and "Bad Boys Running Wild" bear no further examination. When the elfin Meine strutted onstage last night, wearing a skull cap, shades and jet-black outfit, I had to laugh. Seriously, this man has not changed in 26 years!
In a moment that brings back the live release "World Wide Live," Klaus still juts the mic stand toward the crowd and shouts, "Are you with me tonight!?" Metaphorically, yes!
Leather remains a Scorps hallmark. The guys still sport the tight cowskin trousers. Schenker still seems to have the most fun, shifting mechanically from side to side while playing a powerful rhythm guitar as Jabs handles most of the lead acrobatics. Schenkner's head is still wrapped in gauze, with forks pressed into his closed eyes, for the roaring "Blackout." Schenker seems to relish exhuming the classic image on that album cover (great album art became a casualty of the CD era, I have to say).
Jabs, on this night, opted not to go with the Spandex pants, which was probably a good idea, though the black-and-gold Spandex that Jabs used to wear should be in a glass case in Germany's equivalent of the Smithsonian.
You have to chuckle at some of the equipment decisions the band makes, with Schenker and Jabs performing the band's requisite acoustic set ("Holiday" is still a dazzling number live) while playing acoustic Gibson Flying-V and Explorer guitars. They didn't quite resemble the Everly Brothers, put it that way. And Meine insisted on playing the tambourine much of the night, curiously, even as the electronic din rendered the toy-like instrument inaudible. Meine might be one of the great tambourine artists ever, but we'll never hear it.
The Scorps are going out in a blare, no doubt. This was a loud show, at times unbearably so. The Thomas & Mack is not a great acoustic venue, but that deficiency was just blown out with the pure volume of the Scorpions' sound system. And the staging in the farewell tour is distinctive, with the band backed by a series of video panels beaming highlights of its long career (which dates, incredibly, to 1965) and Kottak's drum standard suspended by a set of long cables. Beneath his kit, the apparatus was lined with what appeared to be venetian blinds. Seriously. A crew member could be seen beneath, flipping them open and closed.
It was yet another ground-breaking moment for the Scorpions, who eschewed the dismantling-of-the-Berlin Wall-inspired "Winds of Change" ballad in the two-hour show. Good. I'll take "Big City Nights" any night, including this one.
I'll say it again: We might never see the likes of the Scorpions again. It was love at last sting.
Follow John Katsilometes on Twitter at twitter.com/JohnnyKats.
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