As a 24-year-old in Mullet Nation who went to Live Aid, it seems like only yesterday to me: The Mick Jagger and Tina Turner duet; Joan Baez telling us that this was our Woodstock; the surprise of the Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young reunion; Phil Collins jetting across the Atlantic to perform at both venues; fire hoses sprayed on the crowd to ease the sweltering heat; the huge "Feed the World Banner" at the top of one end of the stands; the handful of teen girls like Madonna who were heckled by a mostly hard-rock crowd; the huge reaction to Led Zeppelin; the iconic performances by U2 and Queen in London that we could see on the video screens; the Philly crowd booing the Soviet rock group Autograph as they appeared on huge screens via satellite, not because they represented the evil USSR, but because they were so bad; the pretty English twins who sat next to me.
There were some disappointments. Rumors of surprise appearances by Bruce Springsteen and Michael Jackson in Philadelphia were false. There was no Beatles reunion in London of Paul, George, Ringo, and Julian Lennon.
The video of The Who failed in the middle of their set, as did the audio of McCartney's "Let It Be." The flooded restroom resembled that of a Third World country. (Most of all, I didn't get the twins' phone numbers.)
It was music and fun and a bunch of drugs. (I swear I didn't inhale the secondhand smoke.) But it was music for charity with a social conscience. Interspersed with the great performances were poignant reminders of why the concert was needed, especially the Cars' video of "Drive."
"There was something totally unique, and I am not sure I've ever felt it since," said Francis Rossi of Status Quo, the first act to play at Live Aid in London, to the Observer newspaper in 2004. "They weren't just people paying to see a show. They were part of it. There was such a euphoric feeling in that arena."
