Culture

Whenever I go to a gig these days I leave feeling a little disappointed. It’s not that the bands can’t play, or that the venue is shit, or even that I can’t stand the people who are at the gig, even though those are often problems too. What I am continually disappointed by is the lack of atmosphere and excitement from the crowd.

When I first started attending gigs about six years ago, it wasn’t the music that made the night great – it was the crowd, the size of the mosh pit, how many people fainted, the stench of sweat, blood, and spilled beer. The bands were often amazingly terrible, the venues even worse, and the majority of people borderline criminal, but the atmosphere was better than any drugs I have ever been on.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, including that incredible gig atmosphere. A mere two years after my introduction to the live music scene I felt like a disillusioned elderly man, lamenting about what things were like back in my day. We have left the gig equivalent of the 60s and 70s and entered the 80s and 90s – the decades that left us pining for the good old days and wondering how those who loved the Beatles and Bob Marley could let themselves be swayed into listening to, and enjoying, the soul-sucking vortex that is the boy band.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I think Dunedin’s current crop of musicians is amazing. Bands like the Dead Sparrows, Two Cartoons, TLA and Males are all exciting to listen to and watch, but that’s the problem – all anyone ever seems to do is watch. Barely anyone dances, half the time fuck-all people turn up, and most people who do turn up are more interested in reaching the bottom of their jug or that hot girl at the back of the room than the music. This worrying phenomenon is not restricted to students, who most people accept are generally apathetic. No, this disinterest has even seeped into our high schools. Not that long ago, I took my best mate’s little brother to his first gig. There was no difference between this gig and any other gig I have been to as a student, aside from the lack of alcohol and the fact that I was the only one in the room who could grow facial hair. I imagine that soon even preschoolers will do the zombie bob to the Wiggles instead of flailing their limbs in weird distorted patterns.

What worries me most is that I have only witnessed this decline in Dunedin. Gigs in Christchurch, Wellington, and Brisbane have all had the great atmosphere I remember. At a small bar in Brisbane in 2008, I had one of the best nights of my life. The music was amazing, and the crowd responded in kind. Admittedly an ambulance turned up and a pool table somehow collapsed, but the crowd of less than 50 people went absolutely crazy for every single one of the bands that played. I walked out of that gig with my shirt torn, somebody else’s blood streaking my face, and a girl who was convinced I was her ex-boyfriend hanging off my arm, none of which would happen in Dunedin these days. Even our biggest concert ever, Elton John, saw barely anyone dancing. I will concede that there was a fair amount of elderly people, but they seemed to be getting up and dancing more than anyone else. I had a great time skankin’ with this old guy from Ross Home Retirement Village, and he was a fan of the Specials!

So instead of standing back and watching these amazing bands play, get out there. Dance until you faint, crowd surf, and scream until you lose your voice instead of politely clapping at the end of every song. Jump on stage and be smacked in the face by a guitar (true story), and dance like a three-year-old on crack. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.