There he sits. And he looks exactly like the pictures I had seen. Worn pants, long black hair, a mysterious twinkle in his eye, and an almost constant crooked smile. The chair he’s sitting on seems way too small, and his legs follow the rhythm of the guitar in an oddly syncopated way. He is alone. Solo. Next to him, there’s a small table with two glasses of water, one for thirst and the other to dip the harmonica in. Some say it was water, I think it was whiskey for the harmonica – to get the right sound, he said. And it seems like he has a harmonica in every pocket. He searches, fumbles, talks, babbles, and tells stories. And sings. Loudly! He switches instruments, from guitars to piano, and everything is goosebumps. I remember the intense anticipation; I had huge expectations. I was nervous for some reason.
Neil Young had finally come to Norway. And to a gymnasium in Oslo, Ekeberghallen. It’s winter and 15 March 1976. In the minutes before the concert, the smell of foxy weed was heavy in the air. – This is going to be big, a guy nearly shouts at us. My brother and I don’t know him, but we nod in agreement and show thumbs up. Two minutes later, he’s asleep, and then the concert starts… It feels like ages from when Neil comes on stage and starts to play. He strolls towards the chair. Sits down. Looks out. Thunderous applause ensues, followed by excited cheers and shouts in the hall. Sad Movies starts, and everything is just magical. His voice fills the hall, and at that time, the high notes go straight to the ceiling. We’re sitting in row 24, my brother and I, it’s a Monday and the clock has passed 8 PM – and for a few hours now, everything is timeless.
Neil Young and Crazy Horse shuffle in for the second set. Electric, sharp, and delightful. The wind cannons are set to full storm, literally, because it’s happening right here, right now: They play “Like A Hurricane,” my favorite song above all favorite songs. I’ve never heard the song before now, but everyone understands that we are part of something big and eternal. The sound is wonderfully loud, it’s full throttle, powerful, it tears – and we fly…
In seat 14, there I sit, 14 years on the age account, and naturally, I have no source of income, no money to go to a concert. And that’s exactly what this story is really about. Atle, my older brother, understood what Neil Young meant to me and treated me to the ticket. A few years later, I was part of creating a campaign for saving: “Give away a gift that lasts a lifetime!” Success – It was the Neil Young ticket I was really thinking of: Thank you so much, Atle. The next concert in Norway was in Drammenshallen on 7 October 1982. “Computer Age” hit the mark! But that’s another story. This was a double love story, for Neil and Atle.
Sveinesund Øvregård with his ticket t-shirt.