Thursday 8 December 2011

Look Alive


There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is gigs.

Welcome to this, the second instalment of my trilogy of blogs that I'm calling: Failing My Degree.

I hate music gigs. Which is why I go to so many of them. Actually, seeing my favourite bands play live is one of my favourite things in the world. But there's always that annoying virus at every gig; Other People. So here's the 5 worst things about gigs, starting with when you first arrive and try to buy...

5. Overpriced drinks - One of the great things about the fact that loads of my favourite bands are relatively unknown is that I can see them live for around a fiver. Unless I want to buy a drink. In which case I need to sell my liver. Which renders the entire drinking operation redundant. How much?! £4?! For a pint of disgusting beer?! Which I'll inevitably get spilt all over me anyway?! Yeah, 2 of those please. Then, plastic cup of watery piss-beer in hand, you run to the front, unless there's a...

4. Barrier - I understand why you'd need a barrier between the crowd and the stage at a venue like the O2 Arena, but at this tiny punk venue in Camden I want to be 2 metres closer to the lead singer of Capdown! And even if you do make it to the front, there's the inevitable...

3. Pushers-in - Didn't I start at the front and in the centre? How come I'm now 3 rows back and next to the speaker? Oh, it's because you all thought it was OK to push me out the way. Even though you're all about 8 foot taller than me, you have a mohawk, and you're covered in tattoos. Not to mention that you're all...

2. Sweaty, topless men - And you have dreadlocks. Which I love, by the way, but not when they're in my mouth. I leave gigs covered in sweat, most of it not my own, desperately wanting to bathe in acid. It's even worse when these sweaty, topless men are...

1. Moshing - If the gig is punk or metal or whatever then knock yourself out. In fact you may well do exactly that. But most gigs I go to are reggae or ska and people still mosh! And no, I can't ignore them, because this venue is the size of a child's bedroom. And that child is Linda Blair in The Exorcist; I cannot ignore them. In fact I'm tacitly participating, according to the people flying into me while I try to enjoy The Skints. Presumably you paid to see this band, fucking watch them! At least face the right way.

Thank you for reading, and thanks to Ben for helping to compile these and for protecting accompanying me at these gigs, which despite the ranting, are some of the best things ever. I'll leave you with the brilliant Incubus song that this blog is named after, enjoy (Incubus)!

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