Concert Culture

Name: Jeannie Marie

Codename: “Blondie”

Mission: Your mission is to infiltrate the crowd gathered at the Fillmore, Detroit on 4/7/2015. You must get as close to the stage as possible. You must not fail.

Mission Results: FAILED

So, last night I got to see one of my favorite bands, Walk The Moon, live in concert. Not gonna lie, it was kind of a dream come true for me – I haven’t been to a concert in a really long time, and I haven’t really been to any while I’ve been in Michigan (Houston native, in case you’ve forgotten). So when I found out that someone from [arts]seen was driving to Detroit for the Walk The Moon concert, I knew I had to go.

Now, since she’s reviewing the concert on [arts]seen, I won’t do that here, but on my way to the concert and even during the concert, I started to think about live concerts and how they’ve shaped music history.

I’m sure everyone who reads these articles knows about the famous ones, Woodstock and the like, and the current resurgence of the music festival has it’s roots way back into the 60s. Concerts have been a staple in music practically as far back as music has been around. I mean how else would you get to listen to Beethoven in the 1800s if you didn’t go see him live? But rock concerts specifically have a really interesting place in music history.

I say this because rock concerts have a specific connotation to them. It was a lot harder back in the 60s and 70s to spread music; it was a slower process using the radio rather than the internet in order to garner popularity. In the same way, concerts were a lot different back then. You couldn’t just go to YouTube and look up your favorite band singing a Queen cover live. Thus, if you went to a show, you had bragging rights. I got to see the Rolling Stones live. Suck on that.

And I’d argue that it’s much the same today, perhaps even more so. Concerts lend an aura of authenticity to someone claiming that they like a band. They show dedication and love for a band; you aren’t a lukewarm fan that just listens to them on the radio, you actually go see them live. This might also come from the fact that concerts typically cost between $50-$100, and that’s for a cheap ticket, gas, parking, and a t-shirt. Your expenses can reach even higher if it’s a high-ticket act like Beyonce.

But even so, when I got to the venue in Detroit, and made my way towards the massive crowd of people, I realized something else. I in no way could make it anywhere near the front of the stage. And I was kind of annoyed.

Why did I even come? I spent (well, my dad spent, thanks daddy) $30 + fees to see the back of some tall dudes head for the duration of the concert? If I was in Houston, I probably would have done some slipping around, gave a couple of “excuse me”s, and pushed my way to at least the middle of the crowd, perhaps even in the front half of the crowd. But I’m unfamiliar with the concert culture in Detroit, and seeing how this was my first concert I really didn’t want to do anything stupid. So I stuck it out in the back.

But then, as time went on, the songs just got louder and louder, the people around me jumped higher and higher, and I jumped with them. I remember looking around me and seeing a guy completely drenched in sweat, grin plastered on his face, never faltering. People around me were dancing and screaming and clapping, and even though I could only see the singers face every other second when I jumped, I could hear him singing, I could hear the guitarist playing, and I would give anything to relive the memories I have.

So was I in the front? No. But did I have an amazing time? Of course. And to me, that’s where the true richness of going to a concert lies. It’s not whether you get the t-shirt or if you put on face paint (though I wish I had some, it was kind of epic looking). It’s about how you feel in the moment. And even if you’re not that big of a fan or you didn’t know every word to all the songs, you’re still welcome. Because a concert welcomes everyone. You don’t know anyone around you besides maybe your friends, and that’s okay. Because that means you’re all equal. For better or worse, you’re all in this hot, sweaty, probably dehydrated crowd together.

Concerts aren’t about authenticity. They’re about togetherness.

Random side note: This piece of writing doesn’t encompass even half of how I feel about concerts, so expect a part 2 sometime not soon. Concerts are crazy man. But I love them so much.