photo courtesy: Richie Wireman
I attended your conversation last night at Coveleski Stadium. I heard about office politics, investment opportunities, old girl/boyfriends, and why your car broke down. I tried desperately to focus on the reason I was there, but the volume of your words rose quickly to overcome the sound originating from behind your turned back. Laughter was exaggerated to convince your mates that either their comments were "hilarious' or that your punchline was worthy of a physical expression of joy. You were not alone. Every lull, every nuanced moment in the music was overshadowed by a crowd that overwhelmingly seemed more interested in saying they were there or that they went to the show, than actually trying to listen to the music. For many, the efforts of two great bands still in their creative prime were lost in translation between their instruments and your ears. I don't know how you can go to a concert and not even turn around and give a cursory clap of approval. It was annoying, disrespectful and I don't know why you were there. I hope the next time, you stay home. Live music deserves more than you can contribute to its audience.
After Yo la Tengo finished their intriguing hour-long set of pop, art noise and drone'y grooves, I used my years of concert training and moved close to the stage where the volume of your voice could not be heard above the amps and PAs. I spent the next 2 1/2 hours interacting with the headliners letting the drums fill my chest, the guitars spike my skin, and the musicianship inspire my soul. When I went home you didn't matter anymore.
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