Splendid isolation

So Nick Cave was… alright. More on that another time. What is really on my mind is the fact that I don’t really go to gigs very much these days. Why not? Is it the bands that play? Is it that I’m too old to stand up for two hours? Of course not. It’s a family tradition that’s creeping into my own life. It’s other people.

For as long as I can remember my dad has parked as far away from other people as possible, and as a family unit we have shunned the social scene in favour of splendid, bucolic isolation. And that appears to be affecting me in my old age also, just like gardening, and the looming threat of high cholesterol. Rock’n’roll concerts have lost their tang, their flavour for me, based on the horrors and the hideousness of Other People and their lack of respect for the conventions of civility and social etiquette.

The Hammersmith Apollo is a nice theatre. If you went to see a play there, or perhaps a comedy gig, you wouldn’t expect to find people climbing over three rows of seats to get out. Nor would you expect to find drunk, hairy men finishing the comedians’ jokes for them, a little out of time and in a distinctly ineloquent fashion, while bouncing off the people around them. A little social skill would go a long way in a venue such as this, but such is the rock’n’roll show, for some reason: you have every reason to be loud, lairy and annoying to others around, y’know, cos it rocks and it’s fun. Right?

WRONG.

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