The first concert I ever went to was at Canberra’s Bruce Stadium in December 1991, where I got to see dIRE sTRAITS, one of the first bands to suffer from the dreaded caps lock problem.
Rather than sit in the grandstand with the mums and dads, I stood in the centre of the arena with the “kids”, soaking up the atmosphere and, as the heavens opened, half the Pacific Ocean as well.
(Ironically, the support band was Hothouse Flowers, whose hit at the time included the words, “I can sing clearly now, the rain has gone”.)
Well, for my birthday in December last year my wife gave me tickets to see Mark Knopfler, the man responsible for both the band’s music and a worldwide shortage of headbands. And this week I got to see him in Brisbane and, more importantly, indoors.
They were great seats, too – about fifteen rows back, directly in front of the stage. Unfortunately the two tallest people in Queensland were sitting directly in front of us, so we had to lean from side to side whenever they moved so we could still see past them. (This is why people sway gently from side to side during the show.)
At 36, I thought the place would be full of teenyboppers (which for me means “anyone in their 20s”). But when I looked around the stadium, everyone seemed to be a lot older. In fact, by the looks of things I was one of the youngest people there. (My wife was the other one.)
Admittedly 1991 was a long time ago. Even Mark is starting to show his age – his hair is now silvery grey, and the headband has been replaced with a pair of glasses. But the kids I stood with in the rain all those years ago were nowhere to be seen, and I was about to spend a night with the parents.
Fortunately there was no support band this time around, or someone in the audience surely would have complained (“Who the hell is that? That’s not Mark. I didn’t pay to see this idiot. Where’s the manager…”), at which point the person beside them would be legally obligated to ram an Official Program down their throat.
Of course, when you realise their ticket cost over a hundred dollars (as did the babysitter), and they won’t enjoy another night out until the kids leave home, you can understand why they were so keen for the show to start. (And end – they still had to get up early to make lunches and go to work.)
Unfortunately, being surrounded by people with poor communication skills (children, bosses, etc.) for so long means they’ve forgotten most of their social skills. And that’s a bad thing when you’re with thousands of other people who’ve also bought tickets (not to mention Official Programs).
If you’re one of these people, and you’re heading off to a concert soon, here a few ways you can avoid spending the night in hospital getting an Official Program surgically removed.
Don’t sing unless you know the words.
Unlike a church service, no-one expects you to sing along to every song. If you know the words, then go ahead. But if you don’t, just keep quiet and wait for the next karaoke night.
Clap in time.
If you’re going to clap along, clap to the rhythm. Otherwise it sounds like someone has set off a load of firecrackers, and the building will be evacuated.
Don’t try to dance.
Remember how your three-year-old jumped up and down at that Wiggles concert? Well, that’s what you look like when you try and “dance” in your seat.
Now that you know what to do (and what not to do), I hope you have the time of your life at the concert. Who knows? I might even see you there.
I’ll be the young guy buying the Official Program.
