The lights go out. Suddenly two thousand people draw breath simultaneously. Anticipation smothers the persistent chatter. A single spotlight focuses at center stage. The lonely peal of an electric guitar reverberates against the walls. The hushed audience can hardly restrain themselves. Their star struts out into the glowing admiration with godlike confidence. Their screams rise to the heavens. The drums answer their cry with thundering arrogance. The saucy notes tease and excite the worshippers until their feet and hands can no longer remain motionless. The need to move bursts inside of them and the stirring lyrics tickle at their souls. The concert has begun.
OK, so I don't know what the first performance that Red Hot Chili Peppers put on was like. I haven't investigated into their humble or not-so-humble beginnings. It was most likely in some dive bar or no account small time gig. But, in my imagination, the first concert was sublime, magnificent, and eternal. It was one of those once in a life time experiences that never strays from the sticky veil of one's memory. A memory that still pulses with the vigorous shivers that were felt on that first night, when history was written.