Spring Chickens

There comes a time in our lives when we’re awakened by the startling reality that we are no longer spring chickens.

This depressing moment came for me some years ago when I realised the All Blacks – who I’d always looked up to – were all younger than me.

For a friend, it came 25,000ft up in the air when she caught sight of her pilot, who looked all of 15-years-old.

It occurred again at the Eminem concert at Western Springs last weekend.

Present, were those like myself - fans since his first hit “My Name Is” broke out in 1999, which sparked the closely-followed Slim Shady phenomenon - who looked vaguely blank for most of the duration of the show as rap after unfamiliar rap played out.

And then there were the clued-up teenage homie g’s.

As an estimate, from where I was standing, I would guess around 80 per cent of the 55,000 swarming the hillside amphitheatre were in their teens or early 20s, which would mean they were practically still in their diapers when these earlier songs were hits.

This means that, either they’ve grown up listening to their parents’ CD’s or, sometime over the last decade Eminem had gone on to release more albums.

Where have I been?!

Last I heard he was taking a break and saying goodbye to Hollywood, still spitting venom at his mum every chance he got, his daughter Hailie was seven and he’d broken up with Kim for the umpteenth time.

“Oh no, his daughter Hailie is now in her late teens and a beautiful cheerleader,” some teenage girls informed me whilst waiting in the port-a-loo queue which spiralled up the hill into infinity.

I felt the need to explain my ignorance was due to being snowed under with babies and pre-schoolers over the past almost-decade and, therefore any extra noise, like the radio, had not factored in. However, despite the big gap, I had finally come up for air and had the latest new releases on my ipod, I proudly informed them.

Such was the wait, that they brought me up to speed on the whole lowdown of Marshall Mathers’ life over the past ten years-plus so I thanked them before we departed and re-joined my “geriatric” buddies to share my learnings.

It didn’t matter, the songs were catchy and, at times, he blew the crowd away busting out rhyme that defied the speed of sound. He pleased all by, not only playing his latest hits but belting out a remix of the original Slim Shady series, followed by his movie hit as an encore.

Many, including myself, agreed it was the best concert they’d been to and it says a lot about an artist to satisfy multiple generations.

This was evident the next time I jumped the queue at the port-a-loos and be-friended the lovely teenage girl who let me in.

She had travelled up from Wellington with her 50-year-old father – they were both fans.

And as I followed the mass exodus of teenage homie g’s towards the gates, I wondered if one day I’d see myself back here as a parent-pushing-50, accompanying my own teenagers.

That could be seen as tragic, but, actually I think it would be pretty cool.