We Are Old (But The Cult is Older)

So Friday night, these old guys . . .

saw these even older guys . . .

The crowd seemed to be comprised mainly of aging Gen Xers-- mainly male-- and so our contingent fit right in. Lecky, Whitney, Zman, Gormley, McWhinney, Carles were all in attendance (as was TR for the pregame). Much beer was drank.

Lecky made Herculean drive from New Brunswick to the Wellmont in Montclair, and the traffic-- just as I predicted-- was abysmal. Complaining about traffic is not very rock-n-roll (and neither am I) but I told Lecky and Whitney we had better get a move on or we were going to be crawling up the Parkway, and I was right! This did give us time to listen to some of Lecky and Whitney's original music, and while I enjoyed this, I still would have rather been out of the car. I can't stand being in traffic. It makes me claustrophobic.

The Cult were energetic and in good spirits, despite the fact that Ian Astbury and Billy Duffy are both pushing sixty. They have slight guts. Gentleman's guts. They played the entire Sonic Temple album and a number of old tunes from Electric, Love and Dreamtime. Nostalgic of the times I went to see them in high school and college (aside from the fact that they didn't play "Bad Fun," which would usually result in dangerously violent moshing).

Lecky, Whitney and I squeezed our way near the front and engaged some (rather tame) moshing with people that looked to be our age. The Millennials in front of us, holding their phones up and filming the show, wanted none of it. Lecky remembered to wear his earplugs. I did not.

After the show, we made an epic hike to a bar atop Gormley's hotel. Between that and the moshing, it was a lot of time on our feet.

Good thing I wore my orthotics.