I knew they were coming. Unfortunately, I lived five hours away from Chicago, their nearest stop.

But, I had an aunt who lived in Chicago. Fortunately, my aunt’s “friend” at the time, understood the gravity of my need to obtain seats for this particular concert and assisted me by procuring two tickets to ABBA’s September 30, 1979 performance in Chicago.

I invited a good friend, Robert, who was also a fan, to take the other seat. I remember that one of the major differences between he and I was that he didn’t mind going around school talking about liking ABBA. He was just naïve enough not to be bothered by all the laughs and giggles of others. I, however, discouraged talk among our mutual friends of our impending trek in the weeks leading up to our adventure. For whatever reason, I was never comfortable talking about my affection for ABBA. Football players and student leaders had to act "cool". I couldn't let my little secret get in the way of my status at school.

We boarded the AMTRAK (train) for Chicago on Friday after school. We had to drive about 50 miles to get to the train station. Our parents instructed us to park in a really safe place. Little did we know how safe it would be. (more on that later…)

Our train, I’m certain, left the station just when it was due.

Once in Chicago, I turned on the radio at every chance I got. I heard the ads for the ABBA concert several times Friday night and during the day Saturday. I recall As Good As New was a prominent part of the commercial.

My God, was this really about to happen to me?? In a few short hours I was going be in their presence!

This was my friend’s first trip to Chicago and I remember spending the day Saturday showing him the sights sounds and smells of Chicago. Though I wouldn’t live there for another 12 or so years, I was already pretty well versed in knowing my way around.

My aunt’s friend (who we were staying with for the weekend) took us for REAL Chicago-style pizza before the show. Afterwards, we hopped a cab to south Michigan Avenue; The Auditorium Theater a.k.a. ABBA The Venue.

As the cab pulled up, there was a tremendous line of people wrapped around the block waiting to get inside the theater. This was really the first time I had any idea that there were actually other people who loved this band from some remote part of the globe.

I was stunned.

We took our place in line, just around the corner from the building entrance, which was probably about ¾ of a city block.

While waiting, my friend talked with many of the people in line around us. In my mind they were making dull conversation and they didn’t appear to have NEAR the knowledge of these four Swedes we were gathered to see that I did. One of the lunkheads he was talking to had the marriage information wrong about who was/had been married to who, so I had to correct the inaccurate information. As usual, I was feeling superior, a frame of mind which to this day remains a part of who I am ;-).

Standing in the mild evening air, I was concentrating intently on taking it all in. I was ACTUALLY going to see my FAVORITE GROUP—Live!

Once inside the theater lobby, I remember the mad dash to the merchandise stand—-not by myself and Robert--but all the other maniacal, hysterical, sweaty, obsessed crowd. The crowd around this area was huge and I distinctly remember a fair amount of pushing, clamoring and shouting for merchandise.

“WOW!” Real Tour T-shirts with the map of North America and their stops. Mint green was my favorite. There were satin jackets, hats, buttons, Black FLASHING Disco Visors…and EVERY item had the correct font!

“OH, there’s a must have…give me one of those nice program booklets.” The blue Polar Pyramids were so cool on the white background. Being the rational person I am, I figured that would have the longest ‘shelf life’, so I opted for that item. My friend got the visor and it, of course, was the talk in the hallways at school Monday. He actually wore it in public. He’s never been modest and maybe that is a good thing. Maybe I’m a prude. But I digress…

Merchandise in hand, we found our way up the stairs to our seats in the balcony. Not on the main floor, but certainly close enough to take it all in…thank goodness I “borrowed” the school’s telephoto lens that weekend. I remember we didn’t have to wait too long before the show started.

There was certainly a broad range of ages seated around us. I remember a grandmother and grandfather had their two grandchildren seated to our left. Behind us were families, people of our own age and everything in between. Talk about harmony.

The house lights dimmed. Up came some strange music I didn’t really recognize. The curtain pulls away and there are two giant V’s standing there in a cloud of smoke…OH MY GOD IT’S THEM. I remember immediately getting the connection of the capes with two giant “Vs”—Voulez Vous! Sheer brilliance. These people knew how to do it right.

Cue the opening bars of Voulez Vous and away we went. Lights, sound, dancing…it was happening right there in front of me!

I couldn’t stand it. I started crying. I have no idea why, but I just cried tears of joy. The rush was too much to take in I suppose.

For the next two hours I focused, listened and screamed at the top of my lungs occasionally remembering to flash some photos. I vividly remember Frida doing WDIHTBM in a Chicago Blackhawks jersey (Hockey)…Benny’s white piano on the pedestal that spins around…the solo number by the guy in the band. (I wrote his name down and kept it for many years because I wanted to get a record by him…the paper has long since disappeared, but I never forgot the performance. Thanks to ABBAMAIL, I finally have a copy of Not Bad At All by Mr. Ledin)…I remember the girls “sauntering” to the front of the stage singing TACOM…Bjorn rocking out during DYMK.

I don’t remember disliking IHAD with the choir nearly as much as I do now.

I spent most of the night all tingly with shivers running up and down my spine. Everytime I recognized the first few notes of song, I got that rush. So, pretty much every song was that way for me. I was mesmerized from note to the last.

I hadn’t expected ABBA to sound just like they did on the records. But their sound live was sooo different. And I know that even when I listen to ABBA Live (or “Dead” as Ian would say) now, it was still a different tone and feel to their actual performance. I know it has been used to death, but it was raw. Their sound was deeper and more stripped down, even “rockier” I suppose. The polished sounds of synth pop are difficult to reproduce outside of a studio. But I loved what I heard that night.

The only thing that did bother me was when they didn’t sing with the correct emphasis on some songs. I was like, “no, no, no, you’re supposed to go up there or you should have sung that line with more gusto.” But that’s the unique thing about hearing someone live. There was a different sound from that specific performance that will never be heard again. I got to hear that sound and that performance. There are bits of it that I still do remember. Waterloo had a significant quality that remains with me as strong as anything did from the show.

And of course there was the signature flashing lighted ABBA logo towards the end of the show. Frankly I preferred the Pyramids which were a part of the backdrop for most of the show, but I guess ABBA in lights was inevitable.

I’m pretty sure I floated out of the theater. I remember the remnants of the merchandise stand were even more crowded on the way out of the theater.

The next day, I picked up the review from the Chicago newspaper. You can read it here tomorrow.

Oh yes, when we returned home late Sunday evening, we found that my car was hostage in a parking deck until Monday morning at 6:00 a.m. Being the resourceful lads that we were, we eventually got the owner to come down and let us out. I guess Frida was watching over us, because he didn’t even charge us the normal fee because we were so young and naïve I suppose.

These impressions have stayed with me for twenty years.

I know that I’ll never see another show by these four. I doubt I’ll ever experience the same euphoria from a concert that I did on that night 20 years ago. I’m grateful I had the one chance.

Sometimes, life is as good as an ABBA song, sometimes, its as good as Dancing Queen! ABBA live in concert is even better.

Some afterthoughts. When I began writing this (as Ian suggested recently), I wasn’t sure how much I would be able to recall. With some prodding and poking around in my brain, I was able to open the recesses of my mind and go back to that special night. I’ve also been thinking about the meaning of being a fan all these years later and what it has brought to me.

No, there may never be another new ABBA song to hear. But I do have some special things today because of this music and my love for it.

I still go to the Auditorium Theater from time to time for other events. Each time I’ve been there since September 30, 1979, I always have a little smile to myself as I reminisce about Benny, Bjorn, Agnetha and Frida being on that stage. It is a private moment I share with only Me and I.

Because I’m an ABBA fan I belong to an internet mailing list and I share a special bond with some truly special people from around the world. Go ahead, call me a loser, call me a sap, call me pathetic. I can’t help it. I love talking with someone else who “gets it”. Someone who knows what it means to be an ABBA fan and who experiences the same kind of adulation for this music.

I’ve met someone who was at the same Chicago concert and who shared some wonderful pictures with me which make the memories from that evening even more special.

I also love going to tribute concerts, clubs and discos and dancing myself silly with other fans when an ABBA song comes on.

Some drown in alcoholic stupors, others shoot-up or pop pills to feel better. The best remedy I’ve found for Kevin Evans is ABBA.

Kevin - Chicago, USA