Nothing entertains more than people watching. Nothing is more entertainng than people watching at a rock concert. Last night, Mr. A and I hit the Bruce Springsteen concert. Our fair little city of Hartford looked as though New Jersey circa 1984 threw up. Fascinating. Everything from the female mullet to the bad 1980’s cropped leather jacket replete with shoulder epaulets could be seen. First, the rules of concert going need to be discussed.
1) You do not, ever, wear the tshirt of the band to the concert you are attending. Even worse? Do not wear one from 8 years ago. It is possible to wear your new one while at the concert if you fear leaving it under your seat. However, I promise you, your favorite rock musician is not going to recognize you from the 2003 concert you saw on his/her 2003 tour of multiple cities.
2) The posters. You are not 12. There is no need to make a poster if you have the nosebleed seats. In fact, handmade posters are rarely, if ever, acceptable. I’m sorry. It’s just the way it is. However, if you do see fit to make one of these signs? Try to at least get the writing to be straight across and not at some weird diagonal that makes it difficult to read when the sign is held up. It’s called a ruler. My mom made me use them for poster projects in elementary school.
3) You do not need to dress from the era of the band. Grunge had lousy clothes. The 80’s had lousy clothes. As did the 60’s and 70’s. Bringing back those tight black jeans that you wore in high school with that cropped leather jacket and the teased hair is not going to magically make you 18 again. It just makes you look like you’re older than you really are. Even if you’re seeing The Boss? You will not be able to relive your Glory Days. Just dress your age and yourself and get over it. You’re old. Deal.
Now, as to our actual seats, they were high up but pretty good. The concert itself was fantastic. While I’m not a Springsteen fan, in fact I probably only know about five songs, I can recognize his musical and socio-political significance in American popular culture. In a world where music revolves around the amount of money that can be made and the glitz and glamour of the dance crew, watching old school rock and roll concerts is a treat. The older musicians bring a life to the stage that is based on the music, not on the dance party. With Springsteen, as with Billy Joel and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, the glitz comes from the music not the stage pyrotechnics. There’s something energizing about a concert that focuses on the music and the love of sound instead of on glitzy dance routines and light shows. When it’s the music that energizes the crowd, the crowd comes together as one large entity, regardless of age, race or creed.
Speaking of the crowd, let me introduce you to all of the various fans that sat in the Section of Misfit Fans. As great as the concert itself was, the people surrounding me were the greatest entertainment possible.
First, we had Superfan. Superfan was “that guy.” Y’know, the one who stood up through the whole concert, sang every word to every song (even the ones that the singer likes and the crowd hates which allows everyone to go for a bathroom break), and pumped his fist at the exact moment that the cymbals would go off. Superfan seemed to think that he was, indeed, the star of the show. All hail Superfan!
Next, we had the guy that Mr. A called “Human Statue.” I have to admit, Human Statue sat next to us and astounded me. I have never seen someone sit through a concert without moving. This man sat, hands folded in his lap, knees together, not even grooving to the beat of the music. Five times he moved, not including his bathroom break before the concert started. His idea of a fist pump of excitement was more like a limp fish of mediocre motion.
Thirdly, I have to mention “Air Guitar Guy.” This dude came to the concert in the band tshirt. That should have tipped us off immediately. However, oh no. He was a classic fan. Balding, nearly 50. Normally, I would have just ignored him. However, for about three quarters of the concert the guy stood up, playing one mean air guitar. Not only did he do the rock arm swing of his imaginary strings, but he also had the fret finger action working hard. The man was a master of the air guitar.
Finally, we had the diametrically opposed “Hundred Year Old Lady” and the “Bored ‘Tweens Whose Parents Owe Them a Jonas Brothers Concert”. In front of us, about fifteen minutes into the concert, came an elderly woman and, presumably, her son. The poor older lady had trudged up the three flights of stairs on crutches. I give her a lot of credit. To come out like that, at her obvious age, made her one incredibly devoted fan. It must be wonderful to inspire that kind of devotion from people. It’s a testament to the music that someone would be so into the music that even though she was obviously finding it difficult to get to the seat, she still came to see the music. Of course, then across the aisle, sat the ‘tweens. These three kids looked beyond bored. One girl half-heartedly clapped to some of the music. The two boys looked as though having their brains scooped out with a melon-baller would have been preferable to suffering from the old fogie music. It’s great that mom and dad try to teach their children about what makes excellent rock and roll. Unfortunately, these poor kids were either overtired by 10:30pm or were just bored out of their minds.
Finally, there were the fans like Mr. A and I. We’re the ones who looked around at everyone and thought how old everyone was. Then, we looked at each other and realized, “Dear lord, if they’re old, we’re old.” We weren’t trying to relive anything. We weren’t trying to go back in time to a happier, simpler time. We were just there to enjoy some good rock and roll, in a concert where the average age had to be something along the lines of 40. 45 if you count the older lady sitting in front of us. Good times, good music, good fans. Is there anything better in life?
