Over the past few days, I've seen a couple of concerts by two bands I both admire and adore. Both had their moments of transcendence that everyone looks for in a live show. And yet, both had some significant flaws, ranging from technical problems with sound to the ticket price. But nonetheless, I won't say they were bad shows. Part of this of course has to do with the fact that I screamed my head off in joy a number of times at both events, and that was in response to the performances. But I also think part of this has to do with what is expected from concert goers in this day and age.
Whenever anyone goes to see a band play live -- a specific band, not just a random night of let's-see-who's-playing-tonight -- there is an investment made in time and money. The last thing anyone wants to say about their investment is that it was worthless. If the band you love is having crippling technical troubles in the middle of a song, you want to see them fix it fast and regain momentum. You want to see them power through the technical problems of their equipment and rock without abandon. Or, if two tickets for one night of two bands costs more than a three-day pass at a outdoor summer festival thanks to all the lovely hidden fees Ticketmaster/Livenation gets away with, you want that band to be phenomenal and mind-blowing, the best concert money can buy.
But does this genuine desire cloud the mind from seeing things as they truly are?
At what point after so many experiences does someone learn what separates the truly magical from the mundane?
When I say something is amazing, do I mean it or am I just going though the motions of what I'm expected to say?
Should I just except the good and the bad as unique ingredients of an experience that will never happen again, and just enjoy it on those grounds alone... even if they did cost hundreds of dollars?
No comments:
Post a Comment