Augusta Rocked, but Not Politely

Augusta Chronicle December 11 1998

The Augusta-Richmond County Civic Center rocked last Saturday.

Quite literally, the sonic boom of Finger Eleven, Jimmie's Chicken Shack and headliners Creed could be felt outside.

The first major rock show at the venue since private operators Leisure Management International took over in February 1997, the concert attracted 4,972 revelers. (We're not counting September's B.B. King Blues Festival because of the slight difference in genre.)

While not a sellout, Saturday's showing was good enough for the Cellar Door Cos., which promoted the show, to consider Augusta in the future when booking shows.

"We'd love to come back," said Cellar Door talent buyer Richard Levy. "It's a matter of finding the right acts."

While in town, Cellar Door also looked at the Bell Auditorium.

Now that Augusta has proven it will show up for rock shows at the Civic Center once again, it's time to learn how to behave.

I'm all for getting rowdy and letting it all hang out, but throwing bottles and other items at the band is no form of gratitude, even if you dropped $20 for a ticket.

Creed lead singer Scott Sapp was not amused at the objects hurling by his head.

He warned the swirling, moshing crowd on the arena's floor that he wasn't going to take foolishness.

"I came here to show you a good time -- not to get my head knocked off," he admonished the crowd between numbers.

Civic Center marketing director Christine Loftin, who used to work at the Super Dome in New Orleans and knows nose-bleed seats when she sees them, is fond of saying that there isn't a bad seat in Augusta's largest indoor venue.

the view from my seat in aisle 211 at stage right was obstructed by huge speaker towers stretching from the stage to the lighting rigs above. I couldn't see Creed's drummer, Scott Phillips, and caught glimpses of guitarist Mark Tremonti only when he stepped to the front of the stage.

here were plenty of seats available in which the view would not have been obstructed," said Mrs. Loftin. "Mr. Kimes chose one of those (obstructed) seats just to raise a stink."

True, it was a general-admission show, and I could have gone on the floor (and had my teeth knocked out) or gotten there earlier to get a better seat.

In any event, Mr. Stapp proved to be a formidable showman, although not flashy, dressed casually cool in jeans and a black, button-up shirt.

There was no doubt who was in charge as he prowled the stage, crouched on the speaker monitors like a surfer tackling bodacious waves and gestured into the air for emphasis during the band's dramatic songs.

In an ode to Mr. Stapp's idol, Jim Morrison, the band from Tallahassee, Fla., performed a rocked-up version of the Doors' classic Riders on the Storm during the encore.

It also made the crowd wait for its best and most popular song, What's This Life For, until the end.

In a moment out of Arena Rock 101, Mr. Stapp held out the microphone and let the crowd sing the lines "We all live under the reign of one king," the phrase repeated several times over in the second half of What's This Life For.

.Kent Kimes Columnist