Badfinger: My Near Encounter with the Legendary Rockers
Early in the summer, during my first weeks at my new job at PAR Associates, I was working in Denver when I spotted “Badfinger” spelled out in haphazard fashion on a weathered marquee in front of a small white building on the south side of Alameda Avenue, not too far east of Sheridan Blvd. The worn-out structure, a longtime bar establishment that had carried a bevy of different names through the years, was now, in mid-1982, called Eddie’s. I did a double take. The renowned Badfinger? Really? Could it be? But at Eddie’s?
Three years prior I took notice of the band after hearing “Day After Day” and “Come and Get It” for the first time in ages, recognizing both tunes from the music-filled days of my childhood, only ten years past. Finding inexpensive cassette copies of Magic Christian Music and Airwaves, Badfinger’s work from polar ends of the seventies, I listened repeatedly to both albums on my brother Todd’s single-speaker portable tape player. After unearthing four Badfinger LPs at a record sale at Target, I then — as if meant to properly rediscover Badfinger — began hearing, in early 1981, “Hold On,” a new song by the band. [1] Badfinger? Really? Could it be? Back on the radio? Now, a year later, here I was with an unforeseen chance to see the celebrated rockers, the most successful act to spring from the Beatles’ Apple label, as they worked themselves back up with a stop at the lowly Eddie’s. [2]
Sadly, this narrative does not have a satisfying end. Just a month or so away from turning 21, I knew gaining entry to the bar was unlikely. Still, I called Eddie’s and pleaded my case — I loved Badfinger, had this one opportunity to see the band, but was slightly underage — then received the expected reply: No, there was no condition under which I would be granted admittance. Because I was young, I accepted this answer as final without much of a fight, without even attempting to bargain my way into the club. Why I didn’t offer to sweep floors or wash dishes in exchange for entry, in exchange for a seat before the band, is unclear, yet my quiet submission to rules and perceived authority troubled me then and has haunted me since. My regret was soon made more stinging when on November 19, 1983, Badfinger bassist and cofounder Tom Evans committed suicide (like bandmate Pete Ham before him in 1975), putting an end to Badfinger forevermore.
Badfinger bootlegs, live recordings, unreleased albums, and reissues with bonus tracks, along with solo records by guitarist Joey Molland (and drummer Mike Gibbins too), would follow, appearing at a regular clip throughout the eighties and into the nineties, most proving more than mere curiosities, especially Molland’s excellent 1983 effort After the Pearl, with its “Moolah Rey,” “Here Comes the Heartache,” and “Too Late to Cry.” Nonetheless, nothing could (or can) erase the knowledge that once upon a time I was denied my one-time chance — my platinum-plated opportunity — to see the legendary Badfinger merely because I was a few weeks shy of my twenty-first birthday.
Above piece excerpted from the forthcoming It’s Only Music: A Musical and Historical Memoir.
[1] “Hold On” by Badfinger; #56, 1981.
[2] Badfinger’s lineup in mid-1982 at Eddie’s was most likely Tom Evans (bass), Mike Gibbins (drums), Bob Jackson (keyboards), and Adam Allen (guitar).
