Things I hate: Gigs
Posted: 11/03/2012 Filed under: Things I hate | Tags: gig etiquette, talking at gigs, using iphone at gigs, why I hate gigs 16 Comments »
The thrill of seeing my favourite band was once enough to eclipse the terror that accompanies spending time penned by a mass of sweaty, idiotic and tactile public. For the well-seasoned gig-goer, nothing rouses disdain like the realisation that in order to fulfil a rapidly fleeting interest in music, we’re to endure wretched people for extended periods of time. I’m talking about gigs.
Problems with attending gigs stem from the fact that you’re observing something highly personal in a public space. Regrettably, people that may or may not give a toot about the artist you’ve paid hefty pound to watch are invading the 20 centimetres of personal space you hold oh so dear, and most of the time they’re intolerable morons. There are several abhorrent behavioural traits that your common gig-going goon will observe, but for the sake of brevity I’ll limit myself to my five biggest gig grievances:
Claiming a place
You have to get to a gig early if you’re to secure a good spot. Fine, drink beer, but beware: once you’ve left your space for a piss/top-up, it’s fair game. Drunkenly elbowing a path back through the crowd and expecting your place to be there when you return is a definite no-no. Should you require a solid real-estate investment, why not consider booking a seat on the balcony? Although, no matter how much you try and justify sitting on your arse up in the nosebleeds, remember that you’ll garner nothing but disdain and expressionless stares from the floor dwellers who look like dumbstruck UFO witnesses among a mist of fart smells.
Filming/Taking pictures
Hi, budding Donn Pennebaker: No one wants to see your ill shot, shit-sounding home movies from three miles back. You’re not in the press pit and your slipshod Youtube video won’t make you Internet famous. If you insist on taking grainy shots of the poorly lit fop on stage, do as the professionals do: take pictures for three songs, then put the camera away and enjoy the gig IN REAL LIFE! Equally as intrusive are those who, once filming’s begun, insist on holding their camera aloft, only to gaze into the diminutive LCD screen that now draws the gaze of everyone behind like moths to the flame.
Talking
Where’s the pickaxe? If there’s one thing that detracts enjoyment from a gig the most, it’s the number of blathering shits that find it impossible to cement their frothing rents shut. I’m always disappointed that an artist will simply play over the inane murmur of yammering dolts, knowing they’d have the support of the audience were they to unplug their guitar and dash it round the hollow skull of the discourteous shit who feels that his/her feckless conversation is more important than my £15…and the music, or something. There’s nothing wrong with the odd sentence here or there, but to be ignorant of a performer so much so as to engage in a full conversation is downright rude.
Bands
Bands! What the hell are you doing? You’re dull. This could be symptomatic of my once rich and varied gig attendance, but have you noticed that bands don’t put in the effort any more? There are, of course, exceptions; however, I’m getting a little tired of the endlessly dreary stream of tepid, guitar weary piss that dribbles onto stages of late. You know you’re onto a loser when the band takes to the stage with about as much gusto as a fart in a care home. I’m sure getting blown by groupies night after night, living on the road with no responsibilities and fulfilling your life-long dreams must be a real kick in the balls, but could you please try and make it worth me missing that breast examination special on The One Show to be here? Thanks.
Molestation
Not just one for the girls. Having survived many a near buggering at an all boys’ school, imagine my horror upon learning that my sweet arse is fair game in the real world. You’ve managed to secure a great spot at the front. At first the pressing weight of the crowd provides a welcome support, but as the main act settle into their set and everyone begins to sweat, you wonder if that warm, throbbing protuberance you assumed is the soft hand of a fair maiden is in fact the bulging jeans-cock of a hairy sex offender. There’s nothing you can do. Your arms are pinned. You’re Bobby in Deliverance, but there’s no duelling banjos, just Mumford & Sons.
Have I missed any? What do you hate about gigs?
Even more so that iPhones at gigs, people recording shows on their iPads is worth a whole section on it’s own. In the end I just watched the whole show on his screen, the picture was lovely, almost like being there.
Oh wait….
An iPad!? It almost makes me wish this would happen.
I will never understand why people talk and/or film at gigs. I go pretty regularly but am less inclined as at every single one, theres’s always someone who talks all the way through. At the last gig I went to, the couple behind me discussed their travel plans home, interspersed with arguing about the best angle to take a video at. I would have asked them to be quiet, but the numerous times I’ve done that I’ve been met with disdain or outright aggression, and it doesn’t stop people talking either. In fact, the last time I asked politely that the girls behind us refrained from talking during the beautifully quiet, acoustic gig, they talked more loudly, punctuated with “Oh I forgot, we’re NOT ALLOWED TO TALK”.
I’d love to talk to someone who talks through gigs. Films at the cinema, too. Why do they do it? They can’t all be sociopaths.
/rant
Exactly the same thing happened to my girlfriend when she confronted someone during The National. It got ugly. And this was at Latitude. LATITUDE!
Inappropriate footwear. Specifically girls in heels: what are you doing?
People tweeting at gigs. I mean, come on.
I’ve been known to do that. Probably telling twitter how much of a rubbish time I’m having.
Over-protective boyfriends who cocoon their girlfriend and then stare angrily at anyone who comes within a 1metre radius, as if the aforementioned ladyfriend couldn’t possibly handle herself at a gig with all these sweaty men around.
Backpacks, since they seem to give the wearer the authority to take up roughly 3x more room than they need in whichever direction they choose to move.
nine times out of ten the boyfriend has little understanding of the way a crowd works at a gig, has no interest in the band and is only attending because his girlfriend wanted to, yet thinks it’s normal to stand still three from the front in a sweaty mosh pit. Twats.
You forgot twats in bobble hats. Indoors.
People who aggressively point at the stage. Yes, that’s where the band are. Fucking morons.
Merch tables that charge £40 for a sweatshop made hoodie that costs $23 on the webstore.
Devil horn fingers. It’s not 2002, and you’re fucking watching Friendly Fires, not Limp Bizkit.
people who karate kick to hardcore bands.
Couples! Especially guys who insist on clutching their maiden in front of them right on the edge of a circle pit/general dance area. Of course you’re going to get banged in to you silly bastards, why fucking stand there? No one should be allowed to hold hands at a gig unless they’re planning to double clothesline during the chorus of Duality by Slipknot. Bastards!
Porn dancers at a Metal concert, going all swirly and waving their hair and their asses, wobbling on their 6 inch high heels, in front of the stage so your eye is constantly distracted by them and not the brutal, kick-ass, death metal band you came to see/hear.
Can’t freaking stand ‘em. And before you give a shit, I love a hot woman with the best of them. Just these ladies don’t seem to “get” it is moshpit-tastic METAL, and doing their thing right where you want mosh or headbang is annoying.
Can’t say I’ve ever witnessed porn dancers at a gig before. I’m obviously going to the wrong gigs.
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