This is it, folks. This One You've Been Waiting For. The Yardbirds: Live At The Anderson Theatre. March 30, 1968.
The Yardbirds had come to the Lower East Side's Anderson Theatre to make what was ultimately to be their farewell concert in New York. That had fallen on evil times, this most progressive of the English rhythm 'n blues bands that had coalesced around the old Crawdaddy Club in Richmond. And now they were entering the twilight, with rumors of an imminent break-up following them wherever they would go. Gone were the screaming girls, the anguished teenyboppers who would plaster themselves all over the stage as soon as Keith Relf stepped toward the microphone; gone also were the hit singles, the flash of a Clapton or Beck, the incredibly progressive drive that was so much a part of them during the good years. All that was left was the rhythm section of McCarty/Dreja, Keith's voice and harp and a good-credentials-but-who-is-he-anyway lead guitarist named Jimmy Page.
The Yardbirds had come to the Lower East Side's Anderson Theatre to make what was ultimately to be their farewell concert in New York. That had fallen on evil times, this most progressive of the English rhythm 'n blues bands that had coalesced around the old Crawdaddy Club in Richmond. And now they were entering the twilight, with rumors of an imminent break-up following them wherever they would go. Gone were the screaming girls, the anguished teenyboppers who would plaster themselves all over the stage as soon as Keith Relf stepped toward the microphone; gone also were the hit singles, the flash of a Clapton or Beck, the incredibly progressive drive that was so much a part of them during the good years. All that was left was the rhythm section of McCarty/Dreja, Keith's voice and harp and a good-credentials-but-who-is-he-anyway lead guitarist named Jimmy Page.
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