It was back in 1931 when our founder, Festus Pollstar, dared to dream of a day when tour information could be dispersed far and near to an entertainment-starved humanity. A day when Bruce Cockburn fans would receive notification of concert announcements and fans of The Divine Comedy and Erasure would never miss a ticket opportunity. Festus hung on to that notion and clutched it tightly to his breast like the last bottle of Night Train on a Saturday night, while his lips pulled back in a rabid-like snarl served as an effective warning to all those who conspired to take his dream away.

And that dream turned into a vision. A vision of an entire network of concert fans staying up-to-date with their favorites, such as Madonna and Usher. A vision that additional dates for Gov’t Mule or a new routing for George Benson would bring joy and glad tidings to the live music fans of the world. A vision so strong, so real, it took Ol’ Festus’ breath away.

And then that vision turned into a prophecy. A prophecy heralding a new way to disperse information, where concert dates, such as Tim McGraw playing not one but two shows in Green Bay, Wisconsin, would be broken down into zeros and ones and electronically transmitted around the globe. A prophecy so authentic, so bona fide, that even Festus was blown away.

And then that prophecy turned into a full-blown hallucination. A hallucination that filled his senses with wonder as Festus ran through the muddy streets of Fresno drooling, ranting and raving about a day when people would spend every waking moment tracking their favorite bands and artists. A day when each and every citizen of the world would be plugged into a mammoth electronic netherworld, causing them to shun conversation, personal relationships and friendships in order to remain glued to little glass windows that opened onto a world that offered dates for James Taylor, Bonnie Raitt and Van Halen. Yes, Festus believed he saw the future in that hallucination and the future’s name was!

And that’s when they took him away.