I STILL HATE CONCERTS  

You might have read, what I experienced at the Will Oldham-Show last year and, as you might wouldn’t expect, there is something I have to add. Or to insist on. Or just to strengthen the point: This is what I realised (again) on Sunday the 27th in Vienna, when Howe Gelb played a fabulous gig in the local B72. (read more here): I hate concerts.

Most of the time and usually, I hate concerts. Some are great and lots of fun. Others are a drag. Most of the time and usually it is the other people that get me down. Obviously, there are way to many of them. This time around, I was there about 21:30 p.m., a good time to start a show, you might think, and obviously a lot of other people had the same thought. Because the place was already nicely filled. Many people. Not enough for the promoter, since he waited until 22:30 before the show to begin. At that point of time the place was packed. And I mean 3-week-vacation-small-suitcase packed. I mean tuna-in-a-tincan-packed. I mean hot and smoke-filled. It was so hot and full of smoke, that even Howe Gelb complained. Well he did it in his gentle, southern-gentleman-like manner, so people who pack people into stacks won’t realise anyway. At this evening you didn’t have to bring your own cigarettes. If you wanted to smoke, all you had to do was to inhale. Pure craziness, still people around me were puffing away like there was no tomorrow.

This time around I also had some bad luck. I found myself right next to the “I know the DJ”-crowd. You know the typically 2 girls and 2 boys, looking about themselves very important and knowledgeable and trendy, because every once in a while the DJ might exchange some words with them. Usually what DJs have to say is something very funny in the lines of: “Did you see, how I just used the cross fader” or “Guess what I will play next?”. I could write a hundred pages about why I don’t like the average DJ, but that is boring. This time around the DJ was hit. She played good music, I give that, slow alt.country from Gary Floyd to (lots of) Ryan Adams. But the thing that made me nervous, was that she constantly banged her head and danced about as if she wasn’t playing “Wayfaring Stranger” but some Metallica ca. “Master of Puppets”-era while constantly sucking on her cigarette. People are so cool when they hold their cigarettes up like that, supporting their elbow with the other hand. Boy, they don’t even know how stupid they look. Change of subject, please.

During the concert I had to endure a young couple next to me, that was constantly breaking into laughter for no reason at all. Howe Gelb plays Count Basie on his CD-player, they laugh. Howe Gelb says that it is toasting on stage, and they cackle. Howe Gelb plays “El Paso” by Marty Robbins and they cajole. Howe Gelb plays “Out on the weekend” and there is no reaction. Explain that to me, please. They don’t know Neil Young? They realised that they are stupid and had to think about that? The went out of laughter? I don’t know, but I remark and then I have to think about it and that ruins my concert.

Now you might ask yourself, why didn’t I just change my place. Well, did I mention the place was packed. There was virtually no room to move. Yeah, promoters, do you hear me – suck every cent out of your customers, they want you to! We are stupid, we are sheep! We deserved that treatment! No go and fuck you. Start shows earlier. Get new air-condition. I don’t want to pay 10 Euros for a smoky lung, stinking clothes and people that annoy me. Howe Gelb, of course, was grand. But that is no reason promoters have to treat the audience that way.