After being a sullen hermit for most of 2019, I’m finally getting my groove back. I’m not big on pub outings and other activities that set off my crippling social anxiety, but there’s one thing that always gets me out of the house:
music and concerts.
Getting back into the gig scene feels like getting back to my old self. I just love music, from open-mic nights at my local bar, buskers on the streets, seeing a friend’s group, to crossing an ocean to see my favourite band…music is one of the few things keeping me alive.
My most recent musical outing was a half-day of diverse punk sets, the evening culminating with the outrageously awesome Svetlanas. My body took 3 days to recover from the aggressive headbanging and other pogo bruises and injuries.
Every one has their own rightful way of showing musical enjoyment, and so we all should. However, I think it’s plain dumb to refrain from fully rocking out because of what those around might think.
Music is freeing. A live show unites strangers in such a profound way that the crowd eventually becomes one. It’s comparable to fervent religious trances and mind-bending LSD trips: it bonds people. Concert crowds are composed of an array of individuals, all different but with a common element: we came for the same thing, and within the space and time of a gig, we will go through the same experience.
(Of course, I’m not talking about the crowds made of twats who attend shows solely to film them on their phones and regurgitate it all over social media as a testament of having lived once. These people don’t count – they were never really there.)
So here’s why I think it’s ridiculous to abstain from wholeheartedly showing enjoyment at a gig by fear of what the rest of the crowd might think: if you’re surrounded with like-minded fans, they wouldn’t care.
Even better – you go to concerts for yourself, not for others. As long as your fun doesn’t get in the way of theirs (by simply being mindful of how brutally you flail your limbs), then who gives a shit? What are they gonna do? Mock you for having too good a time when they clearly should focus on the show? I’m barely ever aware of who’s around me at gigs, unless it’s a tall dickhead blocking my view, stomping on my feet or repeatedly drenching me in beer.
Concerts are liberating and fulfilling on so many levels. I get my fill of social interactions without the awkwardness, since most conversations revolve around music and a shared love of the band playing or related musicians. It’s satisfying on a personal level as well, because I get to see beloved artists in the flesh. On top of that, it’s also incredibly cathartic, emotionally and physically, as I absolutely, wholly release whatever feelings triggered in me by the songs and electric atmosphere.
It doesn’t matter if I’m the only one in the crowd going batshit crazy; I like to think it encourages the band, to some extent, to see the effect their music has on someone, throwing them in a frenzy with a big-ass grin on their face. And if I’m lucky, there’ll be another stranger raging out as hard as I am, and that’ll bring us together. No words needed, just a glance, a shove or a smile and boom – concert buddies!
My usual gig companion has a different attitude. He doesn’t go mental at the front like I do – he prefers standing a couple feet behind me, soaking up the vibe and observing stuff I don’t notice until he points them out (my head’s too busy bopping back and forth). I love sharing these moments with him, albeit in distinct ways, and we have an equally brilliant time. He’s my gig partner because I’m comfortable being myself around him: I know my gesticulating doesn’t embarrass him, and he knows he doesn’t have to force himself into a moshpit just because I’m in it (unless he wants to).
Him and I have more gigs lined up in the coming months. I’ve already thrown up with excitement twice at the thought of seeing some of my favourite bands live. I still have a few weeks to calm down a little…but not much.
BASIC HUMAN WRITES 