The first big-time rock show I saw was Styx, on the Kilroy Was Here tour, on my 15th birthday. In the subsequent 27 or so years, I couldn't even name off the top of my head how many shows I've seen and which bands I've seen live, or how many times I've seen some of them. A concert in which one of your favorite musical artists performs can be a transcendent experience. Even if it's not one of your favorites, it can still bring you to a level of connection with the performers and the music that you didn't have before that you'll carry with you afterward. Concerts are great.
But they also suck. For several reasons, few of which have anything to do with the music.
To qualify: This post is following last night, when I saw Rush at the Minnesota State Fair. Second time I've seen Rush. Great band, easily in my top ten. More than 200 Rush songs on my iPod. The show was great. Pretty good sound for an outdoor show, great visual accompaniment like Rush is known for, and they played several songs that have great personal meaning to me, many of which I've been quoting on Facebook throughout the summer to mentally prepare myself for the show: "Time Stands Still," "Subdivisions," "Red Barchetta," "The Camera Eye," "2112" (though not the complete 20+ minute version) to name a few. Outside at the grandstand, warm and windy, beautiful night.
But that was the performance. What sucks about concerts is the peripherals.
(1) The merch line. I'm one of these people who will buy the t-shirt, $35 price tag be damned. Not every time, but often. And even if you get to the show early enough to buy your shirt or poster or keychain or CDs or RUSH SOCKS for crying out loud, you're stuck in the line surrounded truly bizarre people. Last night, it was the 5'2" dude with only most of his teeth and the shoulder-length graying pony tail sticking out of his beer-advertisement ball cap who had some personal vendetta against a woman further up the line he was convinced was personally responsible for the line moving so slow. On the other end of the spectrum, thankfully not in our line but in the one my cousin was trapped in, was the woman he said got to the front of the line and thought she was shopping at Kohl's, having the stoner behind the counter bring her each shirt so she could examine it closely. And you know, back in the old days, you just got up there with your handful of cash and walked away when you were done. Do we really need the credit card machines at a concert?
(2) The dancers. Invariably there will be someone in your section, usually in the row right in front of you, who decides to get up and be the only one dancing the whole time. If everyone communally decides to stand, fine. I can get behind that. But a solo performance? UNNECESSARY. I almost started writing this section ready to tell the female concert goers of the world to STAY IN YOUR !@#$%^$!! CHAIR!!! I don't care how many beers you've had, I didn't pay to watch you stand right in front of me and dance all night!! And I'd argue that most of these offenders are women, but last night I was reminded that is not always the case. Two 30-something dudes (I'd usually supply more descriptive language here but since I strive for a PG rating on my blog, I'll let you imagine) spent way too much of the night on their feet dancing and waving their cell phones around while their embarrassed girlfriends or wives tried to get them to sit down -- right in front of my nephew and his friend. Who couldn't see unless these two went to get refills. It's a cyclical irony that the people who can barely stand up are the ones who feel like they're the best dancers in the place.
But we did also have Captain Air-Guitar in our section, and he was pretty entertaining to watch. Though I'm sure the couple sitting behind him would not agree.
(3) The yeller. The person who goes "WOOOO!!" with the regularity and volume of a mid-July storm siren thoughout the show to make sure everyone within 20 yards knows how happy they are to be there. Which is even preferable to the knucklehead who thinks yelling out the title of his favorite song from 300 yards away means the band will hear it and change their set list to accommodate him. When my sister and I saw Peter Gabriel years ago, we had a guy in front of us yell "BIKO!" a minimum of thirty times. I was so happy when it wasn't played.
(4) The traffic. This could be the traffic exiting the venue after the show, the mass of people filling the walkways that separates you from the rest of the group you came with; thank God for cell phones. It could be the traffic in the parking ramp after the show that takes eight times longer than normal to get you to a main thoroughfare. It could be the drunken masses waiting for the shuttle bus and riding the shuttle bus away from the state fair that crushes your faith in humanity; I will never ride that shuttle following a Grandstand show again. Waiting for that Northtown bus to arrive was dangerously close to going all "Red Sector A" in a heartbeat (Rush reference there -- if you don't get it, it's your own fault).
I love music, as any of the anonymous readers of the blog out there would know. I love the experience of hearing my favorite songs played by the artists who created them, and the memorable moments that come to life from that experience. But as far as attending concerts goes?
I love my DVD player and my big TV.
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