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A Visit To The L.A. Sports Arena A closer look at the surprising Floyd connections Story and photos by John Valenzuela
Back when it was decided that the theme of this issue of Spare Bricks would be the post-Waters era Floyd, I was a bit stumped as to where I would "visit." I knew I would be short on time, I knew that I didn't have any work-related travel scheduled, and frankly I just couldn't think of a place that would tie into the theme. Most — if not all — of the photography for Momentary Lapse and Division Bell was shot in Europe, so that was out. The marina where the Astoria lives was out. I was just drawing a blank. Then I recalled that David Gilmour had recorded the opening of "Sorrow" at the L.A. Sports Arena. Well, it was a bit of a stretch but I needed something, so that was it. One weekend afternoon, I'd pop over to the Sports Arena, snap a few pictures, see if I could get inside, and do my best to make an interesting piece out of it. As the weeks went on, I discovered that the L.A. Sports Arena has more of a Floyd connection than I had given it credit, plus I have a personal history with the arena as well, and this project was becoming more and more enjoyable every day.
My prep work for this trip was simple: listen to all the post-Waters Floyd albums. Now, for you regular readers of Spare Bricks, you know that I have been heavily immersed in Roger Waters' efforts of the past two years, and admittedly I was a wee bit hesitant to revisit the post-Waters albums. Before I continue, let me make it clear where I stand on the "which one's Pink" debate. To me, Pink Floyd is Roger, Dave, Nick, and Rick. Period. Not to say that the post-Waters Floyd isn't good, but I feel comfortable in saying that it's just not the same without Rog. And frankly speaking, as much as I love the "golden-era" Floyd (i.e. Dark Side, Wish, Animals and The Wall), I've really come to embrace the post-Syd/pre-Dark Side era as my favorite. This, to me, was when they were truly a band, with each member making equal contributions, and no one person dominating. Do I think they'll ever get back together? Um, no, not at this point, probably too late in their careers for that. Would I like to see it happen? Of course! But I digress. The L.A. Sports Arena. Yes, that Los Angeles icon of blue and white that has played host to some of the most amazing concerts I've ever seen, including my very first rock concert (The Motels opening up for The Cars). Pink Floyd's history with the Sports Arena started in 1975, when they stationed themselves for five nights there during the Wish You Were Here tour (April 23-27, 1975). This was back in the days before Ticketmonster didn't care about you, and Ticketron did. When camping out in front of the Ticketron window the night before did mean you'd get front row seats. Before there was such things as "convenience charges," "handling charges," "first day of sale charges," "service charges," "f*ck you charges," etc. Back when you paid the price printed on the ticket. Unfortunately, the Floyd's five-night run was also the time when the L.A.P.D. used Pink Floyd as bait to make hundreds of arrests and cause the general anarchy that is depicted in the opening montage of The Wall movie.
And speaking of The Wall, let us not forget that it was at the L.A. Sports Arena on February 7, 1980, when The Wall was debuted live. I wasn't there (Mom and Dad, I'll never let you live that one down), but my boss was, and he's often told me it was one of the most incredible things he's ever witnessed. If you think I've seen a lot of great shows, you should hear the stories this guy has! Classic story about opening night. Some curtains above the stage caught fire during "Empty Spaces," and he and his friends didn't know whether or not it was part of the show. He tells me that they sat there watching the flower film start, and this single flame high overhead. Could have very easily been part of the show, ya know? Oh, and the story about the night that Jim Ladd handed the two-foot joint into the crowd before the show? All true, all real. Jim told me so. Oh, to have been at those shows.
But in late 1986 or early 1987 (any speculations?), David Gilmour returned to the Sports Arena to record the introductory moments of "Sorrow." I recently came to learn that he didn't actually play the licks at the arena, but instead recorded the guitar aboard the Astoria, then took the tape to the Sports Arena, played it through a loudspeaker and recorded that. Still, seems a lot of extra work to accomplish what a nice digital reverb probably could have done, but it is this grandiose way of operating that has always endeared me to Pink Floyd. The funny thing is that now, as I listen back to Momentary Lapse, Delicate Sound and Pulse, I would have to say that the studio version of "Sorrow" probably sounds the smallest of the three, which I guess negates the real need to go to such lengths to record, but again, this is one of the reasons I love Pink Floyd so much. In November of 1987, Pink Floyd returned to the Sports Arena for 5 nights. The first night was Thanksgiving here in the states, and since I knew I would be with family that evening I didn't get a ticket for that night, but I was going to the other four. As luck would have it, Thanksgiving dinner was served at my dad's house at 3 PM that day, and the Sports Arena just happened to be on my way home. As I neared the arena freeway off ramp, I looked at the clock and saw that it was a little after 8 PM, so I got off the freeway, found a parking spot and walked up to the building. I didn't have enough money on me to scalp a ticket, but the doors on the south side of the building were propped open (guarded, of course, no gate crashing). So I spent the next three hours hanging out at the south doors with a few other Floydheads just listening to the magic that was happening inside. Every now and then we caught view of a laser or a VariLite, but it was the sound, the music that was so compelling that night. I went home and told my roommates about it. "You just couldn't wait until tomorrow, could you?" No, I couldn't. The second night my friends and I were way up in the rafters and way off to one side. I felt too detached from the show that night, and more like a voyeur watching the concert taking place but not actually being a part of the event. Still, the music was phenomenal.
The third night, however, was still to this day one of the greatest single concert nights I've ever had. My friends and I were about eight rows behind the soundboard, center stage, and absolutely stunned by the performance. Pig, bed, mirror ball, lasers, quad sound, films, dry ice galore, VariLite assault, and the music we had all dreamed of hearing live. When we all got back to my apartment late that night, it was clear that we had all been moved. It took us all hours to come down from the night, and my buddy Trevor and I ended up playing chess until sunrise. The last two nights were brilliant as well, and I had fairly decent seats for both of them, but nothing stood a chance at rivaling night three. So now I find myself driving on the 110 freeway south towards Exposition Park, home of the L.A. Sports Arena, listening to the first cassette from Pulse and reminiscing. Damn, I love Pink Floyd. I pulled into the parking lot and with camera in hand made my way towards the blue and white house. The Sports Arena is still active, but with the construction of the new Staples Center in downtown L.A., the arena's heydays are behind it. The basketball team doesn't play there anymore, and the Staples Center seems to be the first arena of choice for concerts. Add to it the fact that the Sports Arena is in a pretty crummy part of town and you have all the makings for a building to go derelict, but somehow the arena still prevails.
The day that I was there, a film crew was shooting inside for a movie about Muhammed Ali, so I already knew I couldn't get inside to take pictures. I did, however, try. First I tried to pose as an extra on the shoot, but I couldn't scam a badge from someone, so that was out. I then tried the official way and inquired at the office. Even if there wasn't a film shoot going on, I doubt the woman I talked to would have given in to my request. I don't think she had a clue who Pink Floyd was. I really don't think she knew what the Internet was. Frankly, I don't think she spoke enough English to know what I was even saying, and her simple "no" was the easiest way out of it. Oh well. I made my way to the south doors to at least take a picture at the sight where I first experienced live Floyd. There was a guard there, so once again no gate crashing for me, but he was kind enough to snap a picture of me at the doors. I told him my story, but he too didn't seem all that interested. I stood there for a few moments just gazing into the arena concourse, remembering what is was like hearing the opening strains of "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" and catching a small glimpse of a laser. Oh, the excitement that night; I could easily recall it. Then I looked up at the "rules and regulations" sign. Reading the list of things not allowed, I mused, "pretty sure every one of those things happened inside." I know there was smoking going on that night. Before I left, I walked over to the other facility that makes up Exposition Park, the L.A. Coliseum. Pink Floyd returned to L.A. on April 15, 1988, and played here at the Coliseum. I went, but having seen four nights of the same show in a much smaller venue, I remember being underwhelmed. The funny story of that show involves the date I didn't have for it. I was a senior at Loyola Marymount and had scored 11th row tickets for the show. I asked this freshman girl, Denise, if she was interested in going. She said "no" because she had some homework to do that night or something. I said, "well, you sure you don't want to blow it off for a night? I mean, we're talking about 11th row center for Pink Floyd." Her response was, and I kid you not, "yeah, well, if it was Bon Jovi I'd totally be there." This girl was totally cute, but that was the last time I tried to ask her out.
One more walk around the Sports Arena just to relive the feelings again before I leave. Yes, seeing Pink Floyd here in 1987 is certainly one of my live music highlights, and I still get a shimmer of excitement when I think about it. It is my hope that Pink Floyd will tour again, and it is my hope that they'll play the arena when they do. I doubt they will, as it seems they would rather play a couple of nights in a stadium than several nights in an arena, but if for no other reason than nostalgia, I'd rather see them here. Yes, the sound is better, the visuals are better, and the connection between band and audience is easier to achieve, but all that aside, Pink Floyd has a history with the L.A. Sports Arena, and I see no reason not to honor and continue that legacy. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we? I can promise you this: if they do tour again, and they do play the L.A. Sports Arena, I will be there... every night. And on the off chance I can't get inside on one of those nights, you can find me stationed at the south doors. John Valenzuela is a staff writer for Spare Bricks
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