February 14, 2007
Happy Valentines Day ya’ll!
Last weekend, the combined thoughts of great music and this exceedingly overrated occasion brought one thought to mind…. And I may be channelling Larry David here, but what’s up with couples at gigs??
The darkened recesses of a bar is the perfect place for those who enjoy indulging in gag-educing public displays of affection (or those attempting to escape painful support acts). Thus, I propose said couples must be banned from taking residence at the front of the stage, obstructing genuinely interested punters or vertically challenged young lasses.
If I see one more young man watching his favourite band intently, while his girlfriend slouches, back to stage ,arms draped around his neck, vying desperately for his affection I may cry.
Surely one’s attention must always primarily be directed at the band, whether it be the drummer drowning in his own sweat up the back, or the dead-sexy front man spilling his soul out to aficionados in the front row (this is not gender specific, many of my male friends harbour slightly concerning feelings –possibly of the sexual nature- towards several male singers).
So who are these people? Why are you attending the gig in the first place? How horribly cruel to distract your beloved from enjoying live music, unmolested.
Heaps of new tours have been announced this week, and I’m perhaps inappropriately excited by almost all of them. I’m warning guilty parties, if there is one bored, slightly randy significant other obstructing my view of mysterious bassists, there’ll be my horrid temper and an empty pot glass involved and it won’t be pretty.
Last weekend, the combined thoughts of great music and this exceedingly overrated occasion brought one thought to mind…. And I may be channelling Larry David here, but what’s up with couples at gigs??
The darkened recesses of a bar is the perfect place for those who enjoy indulging in gag-educing public displays of affection (or those attempting to escape painful support acts). Thus, I propose said couples must be banned from taking residence at the front of the stage, obstructing genuinely interested punters or vertically challenged young lasses.
If I see one more young man watching his favourite band intently, while his girlfriend slouches, back to stage ,arms draped around his neck, vying desperately for his affection I may cry.
Surely one’s attention must always primarily be directed at the band, whether it be the drummer drowning in his own sweat up the back, or the dead-sexy front man spilling his soul out to aficionados in the front row (this is not gender specific, many of my male friends harbour slightly concerning feelings –possibly of the sexual nature- towards several male singers).
So who are these people? Why are you attending the gig in the first place? How horribly cruel to distract your beloved from enjoying live music, unmolested.
Heaps of new tours have been announced this week, and I’m perhaps inappropriately excited by almost all of them. I’m warning guilty parties, if there is one bored, slightly randy significant other obstructing my view of mysterious bassists, there’ll be my horrid temper and an empty pot glass involved and it won’t be pretty.
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