Concert-Going for Dummies

Me and March are big-time live music fanatics. I’ve been to like 15 shows this year and he’s been to even more. I was just at two last week and, surprisingly, everyone in attendance was pretty cool. But that isn’t always the case. And far be it from me to pass up the opportunity for a good rant. So, here I go. Consider this a “Concert-Going for Dummies” piece.

You know, before even dealing with yahoo concert-goers, it's bad enough that I have to endure a Torquemada-like request for information from TicketBastard or one of its demon-seed brethren prior to charging me a sum for concert tickets that's roughly the financial equivalent of getting a colonoscopy with a branding iron. Oh, and speaking of that, what's with all the charges? I'm getting pretty aggravated with paying 40% over face value for a ticket, just because they want to charge me for the "convenience" of ordering it through them (like I had another alternative, that didn't involve spending the night outside of a closed ticket booth, eating Fritos and peeing in an empty beer bottle) and for "handling" the tickets.

OK, here's something. It's REALLY convenient to sit at a computer for an hour and a half and clicking on a little "buy now" icon (after filling out unending requests for personal data), and have the little hourglass thingy pop up and sit there and sit there and sit there and mock me and sit there and mock me. And then, it's even MORE convenient to get that message "Server is busy. Please try again later", which assures me of getting a seat in a different postal district as the venue. And then, as if it hasn't been convenient enough, I have to RE-ENTER all my crap and go through the process again, ad infinitum, until I am left with seats on the Crab Nebula and an ulcer the size of Tommy Lee's...you know.... Can I please pay for that? Dearly? With one of my limbs? One that I use a lot? Whaddaya mean I have to re-enter my credit card information?!

And what's with this handling fee? I have to pay $7.50 a ticket for you to handle it from the printer to the envelope? I'd love a piece of that racket.

OK, back to me being pissed off at people at concerts. Please take note of this stuff, because I'm not doing it for you as much as I'm doing it for me. I just want to have a good time at a show without having to deal with idiots. If you happen to see an idiot at a show, please try to convince him to follow some, if not all, of these guidelines to become less idiotic. If you ARE one of these idiots...my condolences. Now, knock it off.

First things first. Attire. Do NOT, under ANY circumstances, wear a musical act's shirt at a concert. Hey, Sparky, I know that you are a Kiss fan not because you are wearing a Lick It Up tour shirt. I know you are a Kiss fan because WE ARE AT THE FREAKING KISS SHOW! AND YOU PAID $150 TO WATCH PAUL STANLEY SLOWLY MORPH INTO LIZA MINNELLI BEFORE YOUR EYES AND CROON "LOVE GUN" TO YOU!!!!!! Wearing the shirt of the band you are seeing is the absolute, number one, unforgivable Cardinal sin of concert-going.

Following closely behind it is wearing a shirt of a different band than the one you are seeing. Because people always try too hard to be different and wear a shirt that they hope will make the band stop, mid-song, point, and genuflect at the coolness of the shirt you have. The ONLY possible exception is if it is a band with which Mike Patton is somehow affiliated. I actually encourage the wearing of that, not only to concerts, but also weddings and other semi-formal occasions. Any time is a good time for Patton. But don't go to a Moby show, wearing a Joy Division shirt, because, one, it's dumb, and two, no one listens to Joy Division anymore. Not even you.

This one is for the ladies: Stop trying to rebel against your over-protective father with what you wear. A concert is not an excuse to "break out of it" and wear provocative clothing that should have no business on your body. I can't stand the people who walk around all gussied up with a "I wear this stuff all the time" look about them. The only ones who really look like that all the time are the redneck mulletheads and none of these rules apply to them. They rock hard, drink tons of beer, and can do whatever the hell they want.

So, wear something that you would normally wear. I highly doubt that your office manager gets a kick out of you looking a cross between Siouxie Sioux and Wednesday Addams when filing papers and I highly doubt that your roving Domino's store manager will allow you to deliver an order of cheesy bread wearing nothing but a bra and a skirt hiked so high, one can see your kidneys. If they WOULD allow such workplace attire, I'd like a large sausage and mushroom and an order of buffalo wings.

And the whole groupie thing is really getting tired too. So, stop dressing like you're actually going to get a little something-something from the band. Do you really think that Mick Jagger is thinking of you, with ribald thoughts in his brain, when he sees your eye makeup, fishnet stockings, and a shirt so tight that it makes you slightly rotund torso look like a Vienna sausage? He's just trying to get through the show without defecating on himself. Besides, you're too old for him.

Next up, if you are at an outdoor venue and people are hanging around in the parking lot, DO NOT crank up your stereo. I don't care if Marconi himself installed the damn thing. And even worse are the people who crank the entire discography of the band you are there to see. Just in case people didn't know who was playing. And there is always someone who has a louder stereo who is playing the same exact thing as you. And you have to outdo this guy in a fit of woofer and tweeter envy, causing both of you to distort the sound beyond recognition and causing everyone else to cultivate a deep, bottomless hatred for the very band you are there to see after hearing them sound like a cross between a jet engine and Joshua from War Games.

Which brings us to more personal social activities. A good rule of thumb is to leave me alone. Just because we are there to see the same band, does not mean we are pals. It doesn't mean that we have more than said band in common. In fact, I can take a nano-second peek at you and immediately find roughly 13 million things about you that I'm not crazy about (starting with your facial hair and slowly getting more personal), so just back away. If you want a hug and affirming pat on the back from someone with whom you have something in common, go to an AA meeting. I'm just here to see the band.

And, in case you were wondering, I don't have an extra (fill in the blank) and I can't spare a (fill in the blank). I have rationed out exactly the amount of food, beer, cups, snacks, tickets, condoms, cigarettes, and money needed by me and my associates. Bugger off.

Once inside, the idiocy usually continues. One of the more annoying things are the people obviously not sitting in their correct seat (this is also HUGELY in effect at sporting events, but that's a ramble for another day). I propose some sort of electronic tracking device on the ticket. The ticket is juiced and calibrated with its corresponding seat. So, if a person sits in the seat assigned by their ticket, all is well. The juices neutralize each other providing the concert goer with a pleasant entertainment experience. However, if a person tries to sit in a seat without a ticket, or in a seat that is different than the one assigned by their ticket, they are given a non-lethal, but unforgettable electric shock that tells them "You are being an idiot. Sit where you are supposed to."

Anyone who shows up late, is not allowed in. It's not like these shows take place at 7:30 in the morning. You only had ALL DAY to get there, for crock's sake. And in a general admission show, if you show up late, you stand in the back. I can't stand these dinks that show up as the lights are going down and then steamroll their way to the front of the stage in a fog of Bud Light, nachos grande, sweat, and Drakkar.

Once in the show, shut up. You can yell and cheer after the song is over up until, but not after, the next one begins. Anyone in the mood to have a running conversation with the person next to them about the objectivist theories explored by Ayn Rand in Atlas Shrugged and how it relates to how they can't get laid, really needs to be flogged about the head and neck with a blunt, metal object. Repeatedly.

Also, quit yelling out song titles for the band to play. Unless there is a public address announcement roughly along the lines of "The band doesn't know what to play. They do, however, possess the ability to play every single song in the history of music at a moment's notice, so feel free to yell out any song title that comes to mind at the precise moment that the other fifteen-thousand people yell out different song titles and the band will be sure to get to it. As a special bonus, the first person who yells out "Freebird" gets a free punch in the nuts.

And if you are gonna yell out a song title, yell something obscure for the love of God. It's like going to a Nickelback show (Note: I have never attended, and never will attend, a Nickelback show. I am merely placing myself there artistically for the benefit of my argument. Rest assured, as soon as my argument is made, I will return, screaming and in need of therapy)...so it's like going to a Nickelback show and screaming "Play 'How You Remind Me'!!!!" Like the band is sitting there going, "What was our money song again? What is the only hit we will ever have? Can't.....quite....think of it...."

Finally, stand still. I know, out of all of these, that this one is most likely to fall on idiot ears. People sure do love to mosh. And I am one that can admit defeat. So, despite me imploring you not to, if you MUST mosh please follow these rules of etiquette:

I hate to be the one to break this to you, but moshing went the way of the dinosaur around the same time as the last good Pearl Jam album. But if you are one of those people who really likes throwing their drunk, sweaty flesh into the flesh of equally drunk, equally sweaty men, then by all means. But before you put on that muscle shirt, those earrings, and that University of South Carolina hat with COCKS emblazoned on the front, it is in your best interest to learn a few simple rules of etiquette.

1. Pick Your Spots - not every show you see is conducive to slam dancing. Look around first and gauge the crowd. If the scary looking people are moshing, then it is probably OK. If the only ones doing it are an underage kid with an Iron Maiden tee shirt and some chick who is dancing the Elaine Benes, you may want to pass. Also, check your ticket. If it has the word "Rollins" on it, you are in the clear. If it says "Backstreet," well....

2. Work the Perimeter - if your fellow moshers are old-school, a pit will form and most of the damage will be contained to the inside. Hang out around the edge of the pit first to get a feel for exactly how much hurt you are in for. Once you come to terms with the fact that you may be just nanoseconds away from having a jackboot surgically implanted in your ass, go on in. If there is no pit and everyone is just running around maniacally...get out. The place is on fire.

3. Keep Your Elbows Down - it may have worked wonders for Bill Laimbeer in the paint, but unless you want to get up close and personal with a tattooed pro wrestler wannabe with more holes in him than Sonny Corleone at the tollbooth, leave your elbows at your side.

4. No Crowd Surfing - you know how lame it looks when those arena-rock fans flick their Bics during the power ballad? Well, crowd surfing is the moshing equivalent. Besides, nothing riles up a monster with a bolt through his nose more than getting clocked in the mouth with one of your Doc Martens.

5. Don't Mosh Angry - if you encounter a fellow idiot who is blatantly disobeying the rules of moshing, your best bet is to call it a night and go hang near the bar. It is likely that the offender will not be in a learning mood and any attempts to educate him will result in multiple hematomas. Pogo your ass out of harm's way and live to mosh another day. Note a little caveat about pogoing: You know what they say about swimming after you've eaten? Well, triple that for pogoing. After downing a thousand Icehouses, some undercooked meat hopefully belonging to a beast of some kind, and a unique delicacy called a "gooball", if you're not careful, you're liable to yak up not only the buffet you devoured hours before, but also every semi-solid in your digestive system going back to the now-petrified Necco wafer you got on Halloween, 1983 if you get rambunctious too soon. No one (except for GG Allin and he's dead), especially Bad Religion fans, likes getting vomited on.

6. Bow Out Gracefully - this is rather difficult to do when you just got kneed in the groin, but never let them see you in pain. And keep your mouth shut. You may think it is cliched, but when you try talking after you just got the jewels rattled, you really do sound like Barry Gibb. Stand up as straight as you can, go over to the tee shirt stand and ask the guy when Clay Aiken is coming to town.

See? It's really pretty simple to not be an idiot. So please, help me to help you to help me to have a good time at concerts and take heed. And don't even think of singing along with the band...

And if you made it through this totally laborous post, first, thank you. You are truly a dedicated resident of Dim City. Second, please join me in wishing Rusty a very Happy Birthday!