Concert Etiquette
The sorority girl in front of me is belligerently whirling in circles, like a dervish with a drinking problem. My personal drinking problem is that her long, curly hair is dangerously close to dipping in my glass of beer. It is taking some severe concentration on my part to try and pay attention to the Liz Phair show unfolding in front of me and at the same time, keep my beer from being violated.
My concentration is broken by an eardrum shattering “WOOOOO!” screamed out directly behind me in literally the shrillest female octave I have ever heard. Liz is in the middle of singing “Flower,” and as she croons about wanting to be your blowjob queen, the mentally abbreviated frat boy to my left excitedly shouts to his friend to determine if they too had heard this wanton hussy singing about oral sex, and after his friends answer heartily in the affirmative, he throws both fists in the air, shouting “Yeah!!”
Meanwhile, a group of girls uncomfortably sipping Bud Lite on my right appear to be very put out by the sexual content of this song, and are vocally (and again, loudly) displeased that they are “bored” because Liz is not playing “any songs [they] know.” One must assume that it is due to this boredom that they begin shrilly gossiping and trying on each other’s lip gloss, straining their vocal cords to be heard above the music, apparently unmindful that they (and the unfortunate people around them) paid $35 a head to TicketBastard to attend the show that night.
I am still awed that my head did not just explode from sheer frustration and annoyance.
What has happened to concert etiquette?
At what point did it become acceptable to be so incredibly unmindful of your fellow concert-goers? When did it become acceptable to engage in any of the following acts (please keep in mind that the following examples are actual incidents that have happened directly to me or to friends of mine)?
- - In a crowded club, a girl who was apparently bored with the show her boyfriend had dragged her to, decided that instead of paying attention, she and her friend would break out their hairbrushes and French braid each other’s hair. This resulted in their hair getting all over the place, including on me, which was gross. - A highly intoxicated man insisted that he dropped a joint into my friend’s bag during a Coldplay show, and repeatedly (and with increasing urgency) tapped her on the shoulder to insist that he “must” be allowed to rifle through her bag and find it. When refused, he then turned around and screamed unintelligible bloody murder at the people sitting behind him. - A man who spilled half of his watery, over-priced beer on my boyfriend’s jacket because he (the man, not my boyfriend) was trying to carry his jacket, his ticket stub, a lit cigarette and five extra cups of beer while navigating his way back to his friends, says “Thanks, asshole” to him, insinuating that it was, in fact, my boyfriend’s fault that he was clumsy, uncoordinated and possessed of poor judgment.
For those of you who find yourself identifying with any of the above behavior (e.g., spontaneous French braiding, arbitrary screaming, unwarranted jostling), I’ve provided a handy list of the “do’s and don'ts” of concert behavior. Please feel free to print this article out and stick it in your wallet, in order to reference it at a moment where a crucial decision must be made.
1. The band doesn’t care if you love them; neither do I.
When I was ten, I went to a New Kids on the Block concert, and felt the need to inform my love for Joey McIntyre to my fellow concert-goers by repeatedly shouting “I looooove you Joey McIntyre!!” in my piercingly shrill prepubescent voice. The aforementioned anecdote is the only time when it is permissible to scream about your undying love for a band – you must be ten years old. No exceptions. If you are over 18 years of age at a Placebo concert, it is entirely unacceptable for you to shatter the eardrums of the poor person standing in front of you by screaming about your love for Brian Molko. See, he can’t hear you, because he’s singing. Which is, presumably, why you came in the first place – to hear Brian Molko sing. If you want to profess your love to him, there is probably a group of people by the tour bus who want to do just that in a more straightforward and less publically offensive manner. You should probably go join them.
2. Shut the hell up.
You would think that this notion would be widely accepted – you might even think that there should be no need for me to say this. If you think this, you were certainly not at the last Keane show, where the group of six twenty-something ladies (and I certainly use the term loosely – pun intended) behind me shrieked to each other for the entirety of the show. Shrieked. As a form of communication. It is one thing to have a revelation about a particular song and its profound effect on your life during a concert, and the need to share this information with a friend is entirely without question. However, the realization that the drummer of the Stereophonics looks like the paperboy you had a crush on in the sixth grade is really not all that important, and can surely be saved until after the show is over. Better yet, take your inane babble over to the bar, where there is someone who gets paid to listen to bullshit all night.
3. Realize that you are tall, and act accordingly.
Maybe you have trouble finding pants that are long enough, or jackets that fit the linebacker-esque breadth of your shoulders. You might only be aware that you never have a problem seeing the movie screen or stage, regardless of the hairstyle or size of the person sitting/standing in front of you. Either way, the clues should lead you to one undeniable conclusion: you are tall. And as such, you should behave in an appropriate fashion. For starters, you could try not standing in front of me. I will happily work around you if I see that you have already staked out a spot for the evening before I had arrived. It is, however, entirely unacceptable for you to waltz into a show 20 minutes into the performance and park your pole-like body in front of me. Tall people should realize their place at a show, and it is either getting there early and letting people work around you, or if that’s not a possibility, go hold up the wall in the back.
4. By all means, follow the immortal directions from Clueless and “do a lap” before committing to a location – but for Chrissakes, do it before the show starts.
Of course every concert-goer wants to stand in the best possible spot. And one should obviously traverse the concert floor and seek out the best of what’s available. However, once you are late, you are late, and at this point, you should prowl around the back of the venue to find a place behind all the people who got there on time, or go hang with the tall folks by the wall. You should not push people who are firmly ensconced in their positions for the evening out of the way in order to try and force your way into a better place to stand. You are late, and you must reap your bitter harvest. This rule also applies to the charming groups of people who send one representative from their ground of 20 people to the show early, in order to stake out a place for the group to stand in, allowing the other 19 people to show up two minutes before the show starts and push people out of their way because, in the immortal words of a man at a Twilight Singers concert, he is “saving this space,” gesturing to the six inch circumference of free air surrounding him. Yeah. Keep in mind that general admission shows are first come, first served, and that laying your jacket on the floor to save space will only result in you having a jacket with my footprints all over it.
5. I’m sure that your musical knowledge is vast and all-encompassing. Again, please shut the hell up.
No one wants to go to shows where they don’t know much about the artist – the best concert experiences come from loving the band and knowing the songs. Though I am something of a huge music geek, there are fans out there who are far more involved than I am, who memorize liner notes, producers, and musicians who contribute to each album. I applaud people who take the time to learn more about artists they love, but I must insist that during the show is not the place to share this wealth of knowledge. At a Liz Phair show, two
aging hipsters planted themselves beside me. At first, I didn’t mind --
because as they were older, I figured that they would not engage in fist
pumping, gloss-applying, or out-of-control dancing. These men, however,
horrified me by talking nonstop – no joke, nonstop – throughout the entire show. Somehow, they kept up an hour and a half long
conversation through Ms. Phair’s entire set, taking their conversation
cues from whichever song she happened to be playing. They covered every
topic – who produced the album, which musicians played on each track, and
any tangents remotely relevant to any of the above topics. Needless to
say, they found it necessary to elevate their voices to shouting to be
heard over each of the songs, which, I reiterate, they paid $35 a head to hear. This is an easy one, and it’s a retread of Rule #2 – but
come on, people. Just shut the hell up. I don’t want your limbs in
my face, and it’s as simple as that. I don’t want to dodge your hair,
your arms or your feet when trying to enjoy the show. Basically, there are two places where your spastic "dancing" is acceptable: in your bedroom at home, where you can practice looking like a goofball without putting someone's eye out, or in the mosh pit at the front of the venue. Retract your limbs, get your hair out of my beer, and get there, pronto.
7. You will also note that Texas Chainsaw Massacre auditions are not being held at Axis tonight.
Stop screaming! Stop "WOOO!"-ing, stop yelling like a maniac for the lead singer to notice you, and please, in the name of all that is holy, stop screaming like you are being chased by a lunatic with a machete. I'll admit it -- I used to be a screamer. I was one of the worst types, as I favored the type of screaming that would shatter glass. I have to thank my friends for telling me that was I was doing was unquestionably wrong. Everyone should have such conscientious friends -- I wish that the guy standing behind me at the Tool show last year had such comrades. I honestly didn't think a man's voice could get that high unless he was in some serious pain, but he screamed and hollered (with apparent enjoyment) through the whole show -- before songs, during songs, even before the show. Dude, Maynard is not going to come out any sooner because you are doing your best impression of a banshee. Shut it. There is really no exception to this rule -- just have some consideration for the people around you, and don't shatter their eardrums by screeching.
8. Leave me alone.
Perhaps the most important rule in the book. If I am not talking to you, it is safe to assume that I don't want to. I cannot count the number of times I've been at a show, taking notes for my review, when someone taps me on the shoulder or nudges me in the arm to get my attention, and shouts "What are you doing?"
Well, let's see.
There is a show going on, so I'm trying to listen to the music. My pen is moving across the paper, so I'm writing something down. These are things that even the most mildly astute observer could deduce from a sideways glance in my direction. So, hey -- stop talking to me.
This also applies to ridiculous men who are so full of themselves that they find it necessary to interrupt your enjoyment of the show to hit on you. If someone is watching a band intently, why on earth would you approach them and holler, "Great show!" in their ear? You are hollering, which is unattractive, you are probably inadvertently spitting on them as you try to project your voice, and they, as we've discussed, are not talking to you. So why talk to them? Moreover, why would you be incredulous that they either ignore you or immediately dismiss you? I've been called a bitch and worse for acknowledging these asinine inquiries with a dirty look.
How is it my fault that you possess no powers of observation? Save us all the trouble -- just leave me the hell alone. You'll notice that all of these foibles can be avoided by using just a little bit of common sense -- the basics tenets of concert etiquette are not too difficult to grasp.
However, it all boils down to this: when in doubt, SHUT. UP.
--JN, 6/29/04
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