the art of going to concerts alone

There's nothing more unnatural than going to a concert by yourself.

Concerts by their very nature are social events, a mass gathering of people coming together for the sole purpose of watching an artist perform their art. Every good concert has a way of bringing the crowd together as a whole, so that random strangers within the crowd become best friends for a short few hours, yet there is no feeling better than sharing that experience with someone you already know.

Sadly, this is an experience I've become more and more unaccustomed to as I get older.

It's not that I want to go to concerts alone. Quite the opposite, really. If I could talk every friend I have into going to every concert I went to, I would. My problem is that I can't even talk one person into going with me these days.

I'm a weird guy, but it's not like I don't have friends. They all just hate my music.

It's hard to blame them, really. Just listen to some descriptions of the last few bands I saw alone:

“Deerhunter is an experimental noise rock band from Atlanta, fronted by the compellingly odd singer Bradford Cox. Cox is a striking on-stage presence: the exceedingly skinny 6'4" lead singer has Marfan syndrome, a genetic disorder of the connective tissue that gives him abnormally long and spindly limbs.”

“The Japanese musical group Boris are as prolific as they are experimental. They are known to regularly switch musical genres between albums, drawing from a wildly diverse variety of musical styles including psychedelic rock, punk, sludge, doom metal, drone, pop, noise, shoegaze, ambient, and more.”

“By turns cuddly and chaotic, San Francisco's Deerhoof mix noise, sugary melodies, and an experimental spirit into sweetly challenging and utterly distinctive music.”

Aside from the odd “deer” element found in two of the band names, these bands have little in common.

The first two bands put on incredible shows, some of the best I've seen in a long time, yet I saw them by myself. For some reason people are freaked out by terms like “experimental noise rock” and “Japanese doom metal,” yet I bought tickets to these shows immediately.

The last band I haven't seen yet, because they aren't performing until Monday, February 7^th. At 7 pm. At the 9:30 Club. For $15.

(Spoiler alert: this column is a thinly veiled attempt to get someone to go to this concert with me.)

Even if I do end up going to this show alone too, it won't be that bad, because I won't really be alone. The 9:30 Club will be filled with kids that night who went by themselves. We're not loners, we just have better taste in music than you all do.

Just kidding. Well, sort of.

It's a testament to the incredible power of live music that people like me are willing to stand by themselves in a crowd of people, silently swaying or screaming at the top of their lungs or running around in a circle randomly hitting strangers. You know, whatever the situation calls for.

The next time you go to a concert (which could be this Monday, wink-wink), take a moment and look around. You'll see us—the people there for the music, and only the music. Come and over and say hi, we'll appreciate it.

- 2/1/11

Note: A review of the concert I was alluding to can be found here.

Double note: The picture up top is of me talking to Beth from Times New Viking in Dublin. It's not really appropriate for this story. I just wanted to brag.