Going to gigs is different these days. The gigs themselves aren’t different. Though, many of those old-time venues have closed down. It’s me that’s different. Older.
Last night a group of us went to see The Presets. We were those haggard-looking people sitting at a table in the corner of the lobby with wine in small plastic glasses. We were those people reminiscing about the 90s music scene and bothered by the misspelling on the door to the ammenities [sic].
In the 90s my internal monologue was a bit like this:
This is awesome!
Buy a tshirt.
This is awesome!
Last night it went like this:
Note where the exit is in case I feel like I might faint. (I get claustrophobic in crowded places.)
Gee, the Enmore has a nice ceiling. I’ve never noticed that before.
Oh! cool graphics on the screens.
Hm. The audience smells nice. Not like in the bloody 90s.
Glad we’ve all only got one square foot to dance in. My un-co white-girl dancing is less obvious.
The keyboard/singer guy is quite attractive from back here.
That stack of amps looks like a spine.
I think the Ecstacy just kicked in for those people over there.
Gah! strobe lights! Just close your eyes and clap, for god’s sake.
Why can’t these bitchez stick to their square foot?
Oh! I think I recognise this song.
Beer cans get really flat on a general admission dance floor.
I like those wall sconces.
“I’m here with all of my people..” OH I KNOW THIS SONG!!
Guy in front tries to take photo with old-skool Nokia. His girlfriend and I look at each other and chortle.
It’s hot. Peg an open bottle of water over this direction!
Scan across audience fashions.
Good lord. My back is sore.
Leave at the end of the gig impressed with the Presets and remind myself to listen to them on Spotify tomorrow.