I just checked another box on my 1970s Super Group Concert List.
This summer, I saw Foreigner.
“Feels Like The First Time” was a cherished 8-track tape of mine in 1977. I bought it at a mall in Owensboro and then tortured my parents with it during the 45-minute return drive home.
Foreigner was not a foreigner to the top tier of the weekly music charts during my formative rock and roll years, but only recently did I finally see them in concert while fully knowing that their original lead singer, Lou Gramm, hadn’t led the band since 2003.
I used to be a music snob, refusing to see any band sans the original lead singer. Journey without Steve Perry – forget about it. Styx without Dennis DeYoung – seriously, dude, I already sailed away from that shipwreck. I refused to give replacement singers fair shakes, let alone first listens.
This stubbornness changed though in 2015 when Boston made a stop in Evansville. Their 1976 release, Boston, has always been my favorite rock album (the tracks are solid from start to finish). Lead singer Brad Delp’s 2007 suicide didn’t deter me from attending. I still wanted to see founder Tom Scholz and his “just another band out of Boston.” Tommy DeCarlo, Delp’s successor, taught me that an old band could still sound like the new band it had once been.
Seeing Journey in 2017 reinforced this lesson. Arnel Pineda sounded more like Steve Perry than Steve Perry sounded like Steve Perry. Journey still sounded like Journey.
When Foreigner announced its 50th anniversary (and final) tour this year, I was hesitant to purchase a ticket for the Indianapolis area show, not because Gramm wouldn’t be part of it, but because not even one original band member would be on stage. Repeat: zero original members! A band without its original singer is one thing, but a band without any original members!!! Wait … what? Couldn’t they at least toss in a grizzled, original roadie?
“That’s not Foreigner. That’s a tribute band,” a friend of mine snarked.
“The high cost for my Foreigner ticket proves otherwise,” I said defensively, even though I knew he would hear none of it.
“Cover band,” he harumphed.
“My ticket cost three figures. And I’m near the back row. Cover bands can’t charge that much,” I said. “I don’t care what you think. It’s still Foreigner.”
My rock purist pal remained OK with Van Halen lead singer Sammy Hagar being in the mix, even though David Lee Roth had been the original singer, but I didn’t even try to exhume that now dead debate. For the record, I refused to see Van Halen without Diamond Dave at the helm.
To finally see Foreigner live 46 years after cranking up that 8-track tape for the first time in my parents’ car was partly due to the gravitational pull of nostalgia, the same reason I pay good money to see any veteran rock group. Plus, it was an easy checkmark to make on my 1970s Super Group Concert List since the venue, Ruoff “I Still Call It Deer Creek” Music Center, was just five minutes from where I live.
Foreigner did not disappoint. Double Vision. Head Games. Cold as Ice. Waiting for a Girl Like You. Dirty White Boy. Say You Will. Feels Like The First Time. Urgent. Juke Box Hero. I Want to Know What Love Is. Hot Blooded. Despite having no original members, Foreigner held my attention the entire show. Lively singer Kelly Hansen, with the band since 2005, sounded just like Gramm, and Foreigner still sounded like Foreigner. I was happy to get tickets for what appeared to be “a sold-out show.”
Foreigner lead singer Kelly Hansen performing at Ruoff “I Still Call It Deer Creek” Music Center in Noblesville this summer. (Photo courtesy Live Nation Indiana and Amplified Photography)
Most original ‘70s rockers are now deep in their 70s. Many super groups still tour. Some lead singers became casualties of the solo artist itch, but their former bands refused to let the fans down. Chicago still sounds great live. The Doobie Brothers still keep us willingly listening to the music. The Eagles continue to fly without Glenn Frey (I’m fortunate to have seen them when he was still alive).
When a singer exits, the group has likely charted its final hit. The replacement singer willingly becomes the vocal executor for tunes he never originated. He will never hear his own voice singing them on the radio. If he does write a new tune to perform with the band during a show … well … let’s just say beer sales at the concert will spike at such a moment. Venues love new songs.
Kudos to the replacement singers who bravely take the stage, deliver their inherited hits, and help sustain the spirits of our favorite bands while keeping the band’s brand alive.
Maybe we should view our favorite groups the same way we view our favorite sports teams. Sports team rosters constantly change. A team you followed 10 years ago doesn’t have the same players today. Still, you go to the games, root for the newer players.
As long as the music continues to move us, let’s support our favorite, former arena rock acts, our golden oldie ghosts of 8-tracks past. Once a jukebox hero, always a jukebox hero. Hail! Hail! Fossil Rock.
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