live music

I recently went to a Sam Fender concert. I’d never heard of the guy before going to the show and knew nothing about his music. I was played a few of his songs on the way to the venue and thought they might make for a good show, but I was mistaken. It was quite boring. It was one of those overproduced shows where there are too many people on stage and no individual instrument seems to make a distinct, discernable sound besides the drums. The keys, keys, guitar, guitar, bass, background vocals, occasional sax, and occasional trumpet just blended together to produce a constant fuzzy hum that adulterated my favorite sense (olfactory 2nd place, eyeballs 3rd). Okay maybe I’m being dramatic, but I was a) bored and b) annoyed that I was causing irreversible damage to those tiny-ass hairs in my ears that help me hear. And I promise I did sort of try to like the music but found myself looking up the setlist four songs in to see how much was left because I couldn’t bare being there any longer. If Fender were playing the same song over and over again I wouldn’t have known the better. Anyway, I realized I had to entertain myself somehow for the remainder of the show, so I just let my mind drift and pondered a bit. Hands in my pockets, rocking back and forth (because no matter what, you can’t be one of those guys who just stands perfectly still at a concert), I gazed upon Samuel Fender and thought to myself: Why the hell is everyone here?

This sounds pretentious, but I don’t mean it that way. Like, why did everyone come here? What was everyone hoping to get out of this experience? Many people claim to love live music (myself included), but I’ve realized that different forms of live music satisfy such wildly different sets of needs that we might not all be talking about the same thing when we say we love live music. Allow me to elaborate.

I often say I love live music. Over the years, I’ve spent a decent amount of money on tickets for music festivals and concerts featuring artists whose music I enjoy. These are usually fun, but rarely out-of-this-world. I usually go because I already know I like the music, and it would be interesting to see the person who made the music, whom I’ve only ever seen through a computer screen, in real life. And really, I’m not quite seeing them in real life, but rather through a different kind of screen, that of the production. The artist towers over me (I usually get GA floor tix), in costume, through fog, and under spotlight. The crowd is drowned in darkness and disappears. The whole experience is pretty mythical and fabulous, and in a big way, I am there to consume the artist just as much, if not more, than the music - after all, if I was primarily concerned with the music, I could have just stayed home, thrown on some headphones, and called it a night. I find that this kind of experience is often more fun shared with friends, which I believe is further proof that such concerts are not so much about music. We go to become enchanted, and to experience each other’s enchantment. When all of life’s knobs are turned to just the right settings, these kinds of moments feel so special, and I do believe they can induce transcendence. There is another form of live music, though, that feels quite different to me: the jazz jam.

I guess it doesn’t have to be jazz, but in my own life, I’ve mostly experienced it when jazz was being played. But so like in essence, though, I’m talking about live music where I am going for the music. I either have no knowledge of the personnel or am indifferent to them.

[unfinished]