It Just Ain't What It Used to Be

Allow me to drop some personal science on the ongoing music discussion. I went to a concert last night (an increasingly rare occurence for me), and the experience is relatively fresh in my mind.

After standing in line for nearly an hour outside (surrounded by legions of 13-year-old girls), I was treated to another hour of standing inside as Amanda, Stuart, Stephen and I stood as close as we could to the stage in anticipation of The Main Event. My feet started to let me know they weren't having much fun, but I assured them it would be worth it. Presently, the opening band, the Damnwells, emerged to start the show. Their first song featured a thundering bass drum beat with equally bombastic bass line. We all immediately became aware that we were standing right in front of the subwoofers, as our breastbones violently vibrated to the 80hz beat. It was unpleasant. No, it was painful, but in the following songs, as the beat settled down, real pain birthed and grew in my ears, especially the left one, which was so serendipitously positioned to receive the most sound possible from the nearby overhead speakers. The Damnwells weren't bad, but they weren't good, either, and I didn't appreciate their damaging my hearing with their mediocre music. So, I did something I haven't done in 20 years, I moved to the BACK at a rock show.

When my head cleared, I realized I've only ever enjoyed two "opening" or "support" bands (those bands put on the bill ahead of known performers, for purposes of exposure) in my entire concert-going career. The first was the legendary Buddy Guy, who opened for Dave Matthews Band at Soldier Field (before it was converted into a space station). Let me tell you, Buddy has some soul, and it was a blessing to have his acoustic waves wash over me. The second opening band I really enjoyed was an little band the Fray, when they opened for Ben Folds. They were upbeat rock rock that employed a piano as a featured instrument, and I liked their sincere sound with a pop sensibility, so I was very willing to pay $20 to see them again.

Back to the show: last night, the Fray did alright, yep. They played the songs from their album and one cover. Maybe in my younger days, that would constituted a divine experience. Now, it's just not enough. I wanted to hear songs from their little-know EP. I wanted to hear more covers. I wanted new work. I wanted...to feel like I felt back in 1994 at the Audio Adrenaline concert, when the sea of people in front of me was jumping up an down in unison, or how I felt a year later at an outdoor Jars of Clay show, when I was the one jumping and I didn't care if anyone noticed I had no rhythm.

I think those days are gone. I gotta find something else to appreciate in music. I'm starting to find it, I think. Small things, like a catchy little tune, or the simply lyric, "Some times the hardest thing and the right thing are the same." Nothing earth shattering, but then again, was rock ever that big of a deal?


*Listen to the Fray. I like!
*Are you a rockist?