Last time I was at Brixton Academy was earlier this year to see this band and I was there again last night to see Editors. It was a good gig, but that's all it was - good. There was no excitement, no getting lost in the music, no hot and sweaty jumping up and down, living just to sing along to the band. Where's it gone, that missing ingredident that sets a gig on fire and gives it some spark? It was the first gig I'd been to since the smoking ban came in so there was no smoking and not much drinking going on either. While that might bode well for gig goers' livers and lungs, it did nothing for the atmosphere and made the gig seem like a well mannered if noisy middle-class school assembly. When the band did their encore it wasn't the power of clap and cheer that brought them back on, it was probably written into their contract before they went home and had a cup of tea. Which I guess is what most of the audience did too. Bring back the hot and sweaty, noisy raucous gig.
Discover my Cosy Crimes & Historical Sagas
Discover my Cosy Crimes & Historical Sagas
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Bring back the hot and sweaty gig
Last time I was at Brixton Academy was earlier this year to see this band and I was there again last night to see Editors. It was a good gig, but that's all it was - good. There was no excitement, no getting lost in the music, no hot and sweaty jumping up and down, living just to sing along to the band. Where's it gone, that missing ingredident that sets a gig on fire and gives it some spark? It was the first gig I'd been to since the smoking ban came in so there was no smoking and not much drinking going on either. While that might bode well for gig goers' livers and lungs, it did nothing for the atmosphere and made the gig seem like a well mannered if noisy middle-class school assembly. When the band did their encore it wasn't the power of clap and cheer that brought them back on, it was probably written into their contract before they went home and had a cup of tea. Which I guess is what most of the audience did too. Bring back the hot and sweaty, noisy raucous gig.
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One of the bed gigs I ever went to was Killing Joke at The Institute in Birmingham. I spent the entire set crushed up against the stage barrier with a variety of meatheads waving their fists over me and was drenched with enough sweat to hose down a wet t-shirt contest... but it was the best night ever; sheer exhileration, up close and personal with the band (I managed to shake the lead singer's hand afterwards) and absolute magic. It's never been beaten.
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