One of the best, most memorable shows ever was seeing the Stone Roses with Eduardo and his girlfriend, now wife. The Stone Roses for some reason epitomized about 4 years of our lives. Between listening to their first album almost daily, and waiting for their second album they became almost the sound track to our years 18-22. When the long awaited 2nd album came out, albeit to very mixed, and somewhat disappointed reviews we knew they would be touring.

Sure enough, The Stone Roses were coming to the world famous Fillmore in San Francisco, and we decided—nothing, was keeping us from seeing them—nothing.

Eduardo and I found out the exact time and date the tickets were going to go on sale, and planned to be there early…even days early if need be. Days before the show I would drive by the Wherehouse, looking to see if people were waiting in line. Honestly, in Redding at that time I think I was friends with every Stone Roses fan, so actually seeing this huge line wasn’t going to happen. The night before the show, I made one last pass by the wherehouse about midnight, on my way home from a friend’s house, and there was no line to be seen.

Sweet. The doors of the place opened at 10am, I’d be there at 8am. I went home and went to sleep, happily knowing I’d be the first in line…baring some freak of nature occurrence.

7:30am the freaks of nature came out.

As I entered the parking lot of the wherehouse I noticed about 15 people in line.

What? WTF? These people didn’t LOOK like Roses fans, but there were people in line…I mean, I knew the show WOULD sell out quick, but maybe people had trekked from far away to get tickets. Maybe they were scalpers?

I got in line, very discouraged, because I had told myself only about the first 2 or 3 people would get tickets once they became available.

“So you’re getting Stone Roses tickets huh?” I asked the guy in front of me.

“No man, Dead tickets….we’re all here to get Dead tickets for the Eugene and Sac shows…”

“Are you serious? You’re all here for Grateful Dead tickets?”


I was pissed. If I lost out on getting tickets because a bunch of hippies were getting grateful dead tickets, I was going to lose it.

A few minutes passed and Eduardo showed up to get his tickets as well.
“Who are all these people?” He asked, “Are they here for Roses tickets? You think we’ll get tickets?”

“So pissed.” I muttered to him quietly, “They’re freakin’ Dead Heads, in line for Dead tickets.”

“Are you serious?” He said, stunned, and obviously now feeling the same hatred for the Grateful Dead that I was.

We waited in lines, performing a slow boil, just knowing, deep down, we were going to lose out on seeing the one show we’d waited years for, because of a bunch of dead beats in a van decided to use our wherehouse to get their Dead tickets.

When the time came to open the door, I can honestly say, the staff at the Wherehouse was ready. I think they were more planning on dealing with the Dead Heads, than the Roses fans in line, but their efficiency was impressive. Eduardo and I got to the front of the line very quickly, and were able to but the desired tickets.

I kept the ticket in safety vowing not to move it until the day of the show, only occasionally opening the drawer to make sure I still really had one.

The day of the show arrived and Eduardo and I went to SF to see the show with his girlfriend/now wife. We could tell the minute we drove into the city that it was going to be a special show, one for the ages.

We found a parking spot considerably far from the Fillmore, and had to walk. The walk to the venue was packed with people trying top buy tickets. One man offered us nearly $100 a ticket…we firmly refused; although, we were a little upset we didn’t buy extras to sell.

Once inside, I was pumped for the show. There wasn’t an opening band, so we were going to be treated to an entire night of only the Roses, and nothing else. Typical, of what I had imagined, they made us wait for a long time before taking the stage…but when they did….I wet myself, and I believe Eduardo did as well.

The place went black, and the only noise were the sounds of crickets (like the beginning of the 2nd album.) with each chirp of the crickets, a small light flashed, and the stage looked almost like a swarm of fireflies had engulfed it.

This went on what seemed like 10 minutes, the crowd growing more and more pumped with each passing second. Finally we could see the silhouettes of Mani, John Squire, and the new drummer (who sadly, replaced Reni) They took the stage, and the drummer began a tribal like drum beat, which kept went on, again, for what seemed like 10 minutes.

Then it started…the bass line for I wanna be adored….which, is where I blacked out, and went into a Stone Roses induced frenzy. As the guitar began to whir and moan, Ian Brown strolled to the stage, threw out a few curse laden salutations, and began to sing.

The show was amazing. Eduardo and I spent the majority of it jumping around like we were part of an African War dance…I can’t remember the set list too well, maybe Eduardo can, but I know they played a bunch of songs from each album. The highlight was the epic version of I Am the Resurrection they played at the end, which was words can’t describe. I’ve never felt more alive at a show. I was truly exhausted at the end of the last song, I had thrashed around, semi-moshed, and pogo’d my rear off for 2 solid hours.

At one point in the show Eduardo’s girlfriend had become angered with him, for something I’m not aware of, but he never paused his dancing once to handle the problem…and while he may have paid the price later, he knew he was seeing something that may never come around again…and it never did.

The next day John Squire broke his collar bone riding a bike, there by canceling the remainder of their US tour, and very shortly after their return to England, the band broke up…with the exception of 1 or 2 shows they played in England, we saw one of the last Stone Roses shows ever…and the last one in the USA.