There’s one in every crowd. The person that doesn’t seem to grasp where exactly they are. They walk into a concert venue, already having decided how they’re going to act. They are immovable, unchangeable forces. They threaten the sanctity of the concert experience.
These people can show up at any type of concert. Last night it was a Swell Season show. For those unfamiliar with the band, you should go to their website and listen. They are wonderful. A laid back, heartfelt band full of amazing musicians. It’s the kind of show that mesmerizes you, drags you through a full spectrum of emotion, and leaves you exhausted and inspired by the end.
I settled into my seat last night, ready for the experience. The opening singer, Rachel Yamagata began performing. She was sweet and acoustic. At the end of her first song, before anyone had even raised their hands to clap, all of us in the theater learned who the inappropriate concert goer was. Two rows behind me it was the man who yelled
“YEAAAHHHAAAHHH”.
He yelled
“YEAAAHHHAAAHHH”
after each and every song for the first half of the concert. I don’t know what happened then. Maybe someone leaned in close to him and informed him that this just wasn’t that kind of concert.
I saw Andrew Bird about a month ago, and there was a blond woman who made her way, sloppily, down the aisle with a cup of beer in each hand and proceeded to dance her sloshy dance in front of the stage. It wasn’t that kind of show.
At the Pearl Jam concert in 2006 there was a young kid sitting next to me. I wondered if he had even been alive when Ten came out. He held a sign with the name of a truly obscure track from an album no one, not even fans, liked written large enough for the band to see from the stage. An hour into the show, he gave up on the sign; instead turned to his glow sticks. Yes. Glow sticks were twirling through the air. I tapped him on the shoulder and informed him that it wasn’t that kind of show.
Jesus Christ Superstar, featuring Sebastian Bach of Skid Row as Jesus. At least five people in the audience threw up devil horn hand gestures. It wasn’t that kind of show.
It’s the people who clap between movements at orchestra concerts.
The woman who complained about how smoky it was at the Frightened Rabbit show.
Worse: the guy who complained about a different kind of smoke at the Dave Matthews concert.
I called Atticus to tell him about the concert, and my inappropriate concert goer.
“Yeah I had one of those at the concert I saw too.
Only mine said sweeeeet.
It wasn’t that kind of show.”
This past summer, at the Counting Crows/Augustana/Steeledge blowout they were calling a Traveling Medicine Show: the woman who decided the aisle was her personal dance stage and all but forced every man passing through to participate in her show. Polite "no"s didn't count. I think she was a telemarketer in her day job.
ReplyDeleteSo, being the bum I am, I had not completely read all of your entries until now. Liz, I loved every word of it. Every word. Wish I had done it before.
ReplyDeleteAs for the topic, I recognize I'm dating myself, but ever since the "Dancing in the Dark" video came out, the volume of silly women jockeying for positions in the hopes of being pulled onstage has quadrupled. At NIN I saw such a person in front of the stage with a hopeful look on her face. If only I had read this blog beforehand. I would have been able to say "this is not that kind of show."