Today, I’d like to give flowers to a total stranger who reminded me of the youthful exuberance of loving music, or loving anything that’s meaningful to you.
Last week I took some time off of work to attend a free concert. I didn’t know the artist performing, though being that it was part of WXPN’s Free at Noon series, and being that it was at a venue not far from me, I figured why not take a chance? It allowed me time to have some afternoon drinks, listen to live music and hang out before needing to get my daughter from school.
I don’t want this post to be about how people should enjoy live music or something. I really don’t, though it is my post and my views do come through. But also, the person I’m highlighting here exuberated joy, was glowing in happiness. For the sake of context and building a focal point, there will need to be some less-than-great things pointed out.
I arrived a little before the set was to begin and watched as people filled in. At first, I felt young, even though I’m 40. Eventually, the venue filled in and the crowd became mixed ages. The radio station’s DJ Dan Reed came to the stage to kick things off, introducing Joe P and his band, who launched into their with a fun song.
This post also isn’t meant to be a review of their show, or their music, though it’s hard to not add some editorializing here. I didn’t know the music, it was really enjoyable, I’ll likely listen to his stuff again on streaming, though I don’t think I’ll make a point to follow their career. But, there was someone in attendance that I think will, and that’s the person I wanted to give flowers to in this post.
Before, during, and after the set, there was a group of older attendees sitting at the bar, having conversations. For the life of me, I’m not sure why someone would go to a bar with a live band playing to chat with their friends when there’s plenty of other bars on the block. Yeah, it was distracting while listening to the softer moments during songs, but I also can’t imagine that it was fun to have to yell over the music for your friend to hear what you’ve got to say.
Another group of concert goers that distracted from the enjoyment of listening to a new artist were the cinematographers documenting the show on the phones, held up in the air. I’m short, so anyone of normal height will likely block my view. Holding up your device over your head just makes it worse for me.
Now, I’ve used my phone for pictures and videos, and I will do it again in the future. I did it a couple of months ago when I saw Jawbreaker, one of my favorite bands of all time. I did it a couple of weeks prior when I saw Tim Barry opening for Dave Hause for my first concert since the pandemic started. As someone who has done this, I know I don’t often return to those pictures and videos on my phone. If anything, it lives for a short time as a social media post. If people have ideas on what can be done with these pictures and videos beyond that, I’d love to hear. Otherwise, it feels like a waste of battery usage and storage space.
OK, this seems like this post is about types of concert goers that annoy me, even after I said it wouldn’t be about that. But really, in a crowd of about 150-200 people, these personas account for maybe 30 people. Most people were enjoying themselves, including the group of older women just off the side of the stage who opted for chairs instead of standing with their canes. Or, the old man standing in front of the stage, likely too old to have hearing damage from the sound system. I also saw an infant with headphones covering their ears and their eyes glued to the stage. Even the videograpers were having fun, and that’s important. It’s more important than my earlier rant. But, there was one person who was having what seemed like the time of their life on a Friday afternoon in a small club out in the suburbs of Philadelphia.
During the set, I noticed a younger guy, likely early 20’s, mouthing along to the songs. I could tell he wasn’t singing aloud because of the soft moments in the songs where I could hear the bar patrons' conversations, I couldn’t hear him. He was doing it all, fist in the air, pointing into oblivion, very much living in the moment. My man knew every word, every riff, every key change, every drum fill. He was loving the set like no band had ever let him down, dancing like no one was watching.
Well, obviously I was watching him, and I loved it. It was simple in the best way, exuberant in a spirit that seemed to allow others to enjoy as best they could - no real distractions from allowing the senses of sight and hearing from doing their things. Even with the hand in the air, it wasn’t even constant. For him, that set was all about the joy those songs brought him almost to the point of bursting. It was endearing to watch this dude just live in The Moment.
I stayed a little after the set to enjoy some time with my adult beverage before sobering up and to finally start my Christmas shopping. Many people left not soon after the set was over, though there were a few folks that took the opportunity to engage with that band and front man, seizing on the intimate setting of the small club. While sipping my suds, I saw groupies trying to get in on the ground floor of an emerging enterprise, while there were others who really just honestly wanted to show appreciation of the set and get to know the band a little better. In the line of well wishers, the one with what looked like the most patience, while also being the most eager to converse with the singer? My man.
I very much enjoy music and attending shows. Most weekends in high school, I could be found at the Troc, a squat in West Philly, or maybe even the Electric Factory if the band was big. I attended so many shows it’s unlikely I’ll ever be able to properly calculate how many bands I saw play live. I was also very close minded about music in high school. I know I wasn’t alone in this, though I do feel like I’m constantly battling that sense of elitism and snobbery that I had. It kept me from hearing other bands, other music styles that I love now. I missed out on seeing bands and groups I consider vital to my musical identity while they were still together, still alive. What was meant to be just a break in my daily schedule became a reminder of how fun music is and should be. Not just music, but passion - how embracing a thing that you’re passionate about, that inspires positive emotions in you can be akin to air and breathing, or water washing away the debris of life left shipwrecked on your shoulders.
I knew in real time that I wanted to express appreciation for this person, for the example they showed that day, yet I didn’t take the time to engage them or get to know them. Partly it was to allow them the ability to be pure, untouched by my cynicism. But also, he was discussing the show with the drummer, and then the singer. He was showing his appreciation, giving his flowers. Who was I to get in the way of that?
Comments