I got the news about the death of Alec John Such walking down a beach in Barcelona, fragile from too much MDMA and too little sleep the night before.
And despite the fact I knew damn well that he didn’t actually play the bass line on Livin’ on a Prayer, that’s what I put on.
And obviously, Alec wasn’t at this show, but at least the first band I ever loved hadn’t gone totally country yet, and Richie Sambora was still on guitar
They did a weird cover of Don’t Like Mondays, but I didn’t care – because they played Born to be my Baby.
High:
Even though he might not hit the key change in Prayer any more, it’s still one of the great anthems.
Slippery When Wet was the album that tipped me from enjoying music to fandom.
I loved this band. I even loved the album before this.
And then New Jersey came out. Oh my fucking god.
This was the show that saw me first having to front that fandom to my parents – when I told them that me, Mark and Steve would be going to see them on our own.
They weren’t happy. I had an older brother, but he’d never been to see bands, so I was pathfinding here.
I did all the prep.
I’d listen to the album while sitting on the sofa in my room, reading, and ‘practicing’ for the show by seeing if I could pump my arm in the air for the whole song.
I got a biker jacket. From a big open air market at Kempton Park races, with my parents and my grandmother. Could it be my birthday present? I’d asked.
£65.
It was my go to jacket all the way through university. It ended up being held together with safety pins under the arms.
It’s been repaired a few times by now.
I still have it. It’s hanging in the hall as I write this. It’s nearly 35 years old.
Support was Lita Ford, who was even getting played on the radio with Kiss Me Deadly – a song I was still playing on my guitar through the first covid lockdown.
The songs that get you young are the ones that stay with you. When I hear Slippery, or Kiss Me, I remember how much I loved them – it’s the feeling of youth.
We went up on the train, first to Waterloo – though slow through Clapham Junction, where 35 people had died in a crash the day before – then to Wembley. First time.
I barely remember any of what happened on stage. I don’t think our view was very good. There was some standing on seats. There was screaming till we were hoarse. It was electrifying.
Then there was the getting home.
“All aboard the Bon Jovi express” said the bakerloo line announcer after we’d queued, with our expensive programs and posters. (My 6′ poster stayed on the wall at my parents till the early 00s… long after I’d left).
Then there were the other fans. I remember being surprised that the girls didn’t look like the ones in the videos. They tended to be larger. But I wanted all of them.
And then the final stretch home, walking down the middle of the road, ears ringing. Wild in the Streets.
High?
Following the opening Lay Your Hands on Me with I’d Die for You (a personal favourite).
Last week I listened to a podcast that spent an hour discussing Slippery When Wet, and saying many of the things I’ve felt for the last 35 years or so.
I loved this band from 86-90 in a way that I’ve never loved any band ever again. Slippery and New Jersey mean the world to me. And in December 1988 I’d seen them (supported by Lita Ford) at Wembley for my first ever gig.
But this was something altogether different.
There was no Donington in 89, not since the deaths in the GnR set the year before.
But as a replacement, Bon Jovi headlined Milton Keynes on a bizarre bill that started with Skid Row, went via Vixen to Europe and then to Bon Jovi.
My school friend Mark and I went.
We did one of the those package things where you get on a coach at Paddington Station.
Gorgeous hot day.
Skid Row amazing (we knew all the songs)
Feeling intimidated in Vixen’s set when I’m singing along to Edge of a Broken Heart and a biker type in front of me turns round to say “They’re not even playing their instruments!” they were.
The thing that causes me some upset years later, of being crushed up against a girl my age or so during the start of the Bon Jovi set, and actively putting an arm around her hips. Feels awful now, felt amazing then.
Europe doing covers. They played Hard Day’s Night, and Hound Dog. And before Hound Dog, Joey’s routine was to go “Yooooouuuuuuu!” and the crowd turned that back into “…give love a bad name…”
The full stadium Bon Jovi experience, at their peak.
Steve and Joe from Aerosmith coming on for the enore of walk this way.
Mark and I having problems finding the coach back.
Being dropped back at Paddington after midnight and using all the money we had on us to get a cab back to the suburbs.
My first black cab ever.
Waking up the next morning, ears still ringing, to hear the news that while our cab was getting us over the river, a pleasure boat had gone down and more than 50 people died.
I think a bit about my ‘choice’ of Bon Jovi as my band back then.
I’m pleased I picked a winner. But I wish they could have kept doing the music I liked for longer.
High?
All of the Bon Jovi set.
Drinking?
I was 15. They wouldn’t sell us beer, and I wasn’t really a drinker then.
My Old Gig Tickets 