If what follows next appears to be a spiteful gutting of a concert foretold, please forgive me, you humble readers and devoted hard rock fans.

I am pissed off. And what seems even more aggravating is the fact that I cannot find anybody to blame. It is nobody’s fault.

British bands Whitesnake and Def Leppard were scheduled to perform at the Akademik stadium in the evening of July 4. The Snake is in Bulgaria for a fourth gig, whereas the Leppards are joining in for a first time.

What was supposed to happen: at 7pm Toma Zdravkov, the winner of this-year’s Music Idol, was going to warm up the crowd with a half hour of selected heavy classics, at 8 pm Whitesnake should have been on, followed an hour and a half later by Def Leppard. Simple math, is it not?

While the stadium was still filling in, Toma hopped about the stage, under the sound of the first metal accords. The randomly assembled band that accompanied him hit the first notes of AC/DC Highway to Hell and Toma began to sing, or rather scream.

Now, dude, I really liked you on that Music Idol show, you are driven, you seem to have a lot of potential and charisma. But, seriously, HANDS OFF that classic tune, because it is disrespectful, it is offensive to my gentle hearing, let alone the fact that you are annoying a die-hard AC/DC junkie such as myself. PLEASE. Stick to whatever you can sing, whatever it is suited for your vocal parameters. It is not your fault.

Anyway, that was just the beginning.

I waited for so long.

Technicians lingered about the stage for what seemed an eternity. For the longest time nothing happened, only the queues for draft beer grew longer and more impatient. People, it seemed, wanted to drink. And how would they not? Bursting out of the powerful speakers, Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus gave a nightmarish feel to the scene. Like when in your dream you are looking for one place, and suddenly, you get lost and enter some vast emptiness for no particular reason. I mean, I like Depeche Mode, but who cares?

Then someone got a hold of the microphone and announced that there would be a significant delay though the concert will happen as planned. While trying to pass the Macedonia-Bulgaria border, the trucks carrying the bands’ technical equipment have been stuck for three hours because of power failure, a voice said. An earlier rainstorm had done the damage. So, really, it is nobody’s fault.

Whitesnake will come out no later than 11 pm, the voice assured the roaring crowd.

I sat there and tried to remember why I wanted to come to this concert in the first place. It was some kind of sick nostalgia that sneaked upon me and made me do it. I saw myself back in my college days, hanging out at one of those so dear to my heart parties when friends played the guitars, the rest of us sang, and I was desperately trying to figure out “Is this love that I’m feeling?”

At 11 pm, Whitesnake did come out and the raspy voice of David Coverdale managed to sooth the crowd as if it was some loving lullaby. Ain’t No Love in the Heart of the City and Here I
Go Again, the stadium was packed, does it matter how many people sang along as one, how many people jumped to their feet as a tribute to a special moment reminiscent of the songs, or Coverdale?

I applauded the audience for putting so much heart into it.

It began to rain.

I saw Coverdale’s white teeth flicker in the dark. The staff ran around in attempt to cover the equipment, because at some point the stage drowned in water. No comment was made between the songs, but I could feel how the singer’s strained nerves radiated through the microphone. The people stood there, some covered their heads with bigger nylon sheets, some unfolded umbrellas, but the bulk just soaked the rain.

After exactly one hour, Whitesnake stopped playing, and left the wet stage escorted by anаemic applauses. No emotion, no call for an encore, just the rainy silence underlining great disappointment. But whose fault is it?

Another 40 minutes had to pass for switching equipment, preparing for Def Leppard, and sound check.

The band came out, and despite the fact that calm settled over the crowd as well as many people just left, it brought cheerful mood. Def Leppard were friendly, soulful, gave it their all, played and sang with passion, talked to the audience, apologising for not speaking Bulgarian. I almost felt bad that every new song they performed sounded almost identical with the preceding one, with the exception of their well-recognised hits such as Love Bites and Let’s Get Rocked. The frontman Joe Elliott warmly thanked the audience for sticking around and for being such loyal fans, which was nice.

But hey, at 2 am, amid chilling wind, rain and pain in the back from sitting forever in one position, little seemed comforting.

Nevermind. It is nobody’s fault.