by Eileen Cannon, Laurel Springs, NJ

Stones July ‘72 remains — after attending hundreds of concerts — one of the top 5 all-time best performances by anyone, EVER. I totally realize how huge that statement is. All who were there are likely to agree. The lineup was amazing– - Nicky Hopkins on piano, Bobby Keys on sax, Mick Taylor — and the band was never tighter, more energetic, raucous, bluesy, and raw. Ingrained forever is a memory of Mick Jagger dancing to Jumpin’ Jack Flash at a stand-up mic, moving around the mike as if he were made of rubber bands… a most amazing night. No one could sit down! I’ve seen the Stones a number of times since — but they’ve gotten progressively more staged and certainly less physical (tho Jagger still has a zillion amazing moves). None of the subsequent shows, as great as they were, could light a candle to the July 1972 show.

Stevie Wonder opened with a wonderful performance previewing Talking Book (Superstition, You Are My Sunshine), though his genius might have been a little lost on the Stones crowd. Getting there was intense — the tickets went on sale one hot June morning. There was no concept of wristbands or signup sheets at the time, and the Stones tickets went on sale for the OUTRAGEOUS price of $6.50, breaking the $5 barrier — you just showed up at the ticket office at the Spectrum. We got there at 6 am, hundreds were there, and when the tickets went on sale at 9, there was a mad dash. Being a small female amid a crushing crowd of guys, I nearly suffocated — my nose was literally in people’s armpits (yeccch!!). The Philly police, in their infinite wisdom (Frank Rizzo era) brought on the horse police to ‘herd’ us. The Spectrum turned on those heat lamps. It was very nasty, but people were kind, just getting crushed. Some guys tried to help me out, but I was getting overcome.

In the midst of the pushing and shoving, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was some guy I knew from school. I handed him my money and asked him to buy me tickets. Then I turned around to the guy in back of me and said: “Move or I will puke all over you.”

That statement “Move or I’ll puke” cleared an instantaneous path out of the crowd. I straggled out, soaked to the bone, long hair drenched, as some guy popped open a Fanta. “Here,” he said as he handed me the soda “You need this more than I do.”

Eventually, my friend got tickets. Two lifelong effects of the Stones 72 show: crowd claustrophobia, and a potent musical memory that is still vibrant so many years later. Worth the claustrophobia!