Fleetwood Mac, Friends and a Frustrating Venue: A Night with Silver Springs

Last night was one of those moments I live for—making memories with the people who make life a little brighter. I spent the evening with my daughter-in-law Renee, one of my favorite coworkers Nikki, and my youngest son’s girlfriend Savannah. We kicked things off with dinner and drinks, sharing laughs, stories, and excitement for what was to come. Afterward, we walked to the City Opera House to see Silver Springs, a Fleetwood Mac tribute band that had us all feeling nostalgic and energized.

I was genuinely excited—not just for the music, but for the company. There’s something special about sharing good music with good people. And while Silver Springs was solid and delivered all the hits we hoped for (minus the song Silver Springs), the venue? That’s where the night took a turn.

As we settled into our seats, we noticed Savannah’s family up front dancing, singing along, and fully embracing the music. That energy was contagious, so naturally, the four of us joined them. We weren’t bothering anyone—we were just vibing with the band, feeding that electric exchange between performer and audience that makes live music unforgettable.

But then came the moment that nearly sucked the soul out of the evening: we were told to sit down. Apparently, this was a “sit-down show.” At a concert. I was appalled. Since when do you have to stay seated at a concert? Isn’t that the whole point—losing yourself in the music, letting the rhythm move you, and showing the band that you’re feeling every beat they give?

It was frustrating, especially knowing that bands thrive off the crowd’s energy. You could tell Silver Springs wanted that interaction, that back-and-forth spark. We still sang from our seats, we swayed as much as we could, but it wasn’t the same. And the final blow? No encore. The venue cut the band off right at 9 p.m. and flipped the lights on like it was the end of a PTA meeting. Just… done.

It’s wild because I had seen The Verve Pipe at the same venue before, and the crowd was lively—dancing, standing, singing. It felt like a real concert. So naturally, I assumed this night would carry the same spirit, especially for something as beloved as Fleetwood Mac. But now? I don’t think I’ll be returning to the City Opera House for a concert again. An opera? Sure, I get sitting. But a concert? Hell no.

After the show, we walked over to Union Street bar and had one last drink together. We laughed, we vented, and we did our fair share of bitching about the venue. Then, like a well-rehearsed post-show ritual, we dropped each other off at home, one by one.

I’m so thankful for Renee, Nikki, and Savannah—for the music, the laughter, the connection, and the memories we made. Even if the venue fell flat, the night still hit all the right notes where it mattered most.

Tonight, I’m supposed to be going to see Tantric—but that’s another story for another time.

Peace, Love and Loud Music,

Mickey 💜🎵