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Friday, 15th August 2003
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Manchester, NH - Media Reviews

X marks the spot at Def Leppard concert in Manchester By Gina Carbon

On his CD "Shame-Based Man," comedian Bruce McCulloch scoffs "Greatest hits albums are for housewives and little girls."

Well, if that’s true, better call me Mrs. Joe Elliott and pour some sugar on me in the kitchen, because I love Def Leppard’s "Vault" of Greatest Hits and could have used a couple more of them at last Friday’s concert in Manchester.

Overall it was a great concert -we got "rocked" so to speak - but it was as I feared: The boys from Sheffield had a new album to promote ("X") and spent a good portion of the show playing songs no one knew yet. Picture an eclectic herd of people swaying awkwardly as they pretend to lip sync with songs they’ve never blared in their car stereos.

Eventually the Fab Five got to the goods - including "Photograph," "Love Bites," "Armageddon It" and "Rock of Ages" - but left out "Miss You in a Heartbeat," "When Love and Hate Collide" and "Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad." They ended with "Let’s Get Rocked" which solidified by feeling that they went about the show backwards. Why not start with "Rocked" then sick the new or obscure stuff on us and end with "Bringing on the Heartbreak" or "Miss You in A Heartbeat" or even "Pour Some Sugar On Me?" Send us back to reality with a smile.

I wanted to poke fun at the aging GenXers in their khakis and SUVs - a far cry from the beat-up jeans and hand-me-down Pintos of old - but when your friend has to move the baby seat in her minivan before she can drive you to her law office’s corporate headquarters two blocks from the Verizon Wireless Arena to save money on parking, it’s hard to make that kind of judgment.

We’re a new breed of Def Leppard fan - actually the old breed just older and split between die hard rockers and those on the road to mainstream conformity. Some of us have barely left the 80s, like the guy two rows in front of me who played inebriated air guitar next to his friends - each in faded Def Leppard T-s - before falling backwards over a woman trying to get past him.

Side note about the T-shirts: a friend informed me that it is poor form to wear a Def Leppard T-shirt to a Def Leppard concert - or a KISS shirt to a KISS concert, etc. It’s like wearing an "I Love Boston!" sweater through Faneuil Hall. (Tourist!) However, wearing one of Joe Elliott’s trademark sleeveless Union Jack T’s is not only fine it shows true knowledge of the band. A few of those were spotted in the crowd, but mostly it was a mix of very normal-looking late 20- and early 30-somethings, trying to revert to the comfort food of heavy metal cheese.

Lead singer Elliott wore a black cut-off shirt with a white hand on the front- not exactly the Union Jack, though he did mention it had been 23 years since the band came to the United States and dedicated a new song from "X" called "Long Long Way To Go" to the American and British troops fighting together. For whatever reason the Manchester crowd booed when Elliott mentioned Canada and even more when he said they screamed louder than us in Toronto.

From where we were - far, far back in the floor section - the 40-something guys still looked great. Guitarist Phil Collen looked exactly the same since he was the one who never had long hair anyway. Elliott introduced him at 140 lbs. and he looks it. He and guitarist Vivian Campbell (who joined the group when Steve Clark died) took their shirts off so we could all see how well they were holding up. Rick Savage wore a sequined top that looked like Frodo’s mithril vest in "The Lord of the Rings." One-armed wonder Rick Allen hid behind his drum set, but he got the biggest cheers anyway.

By the end of the encore, the crowd was screamed out and "Let’s Get Rocked" was fighting with "Armageddon It" for permanent placement in my ringing scull. Still, my friends sniffed that it was nothing compared to the Poison concert last month at Great Woods where they were deaf for a week.

We walked back to the minivan singing "Rock Of Ages" as shiny sedans drove by with the windows down, devil’s horns peeking out from seatbelted passengers’ hands, heads screaming "Woo!" onto the quiet streets of Manchester. At that moment, we were all headbangers again - housewives and little girls be damned.

By Seacoastonline 2003.

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