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It happens.
Here are some signs.
Yes, I am known for wanting to sit down now, please, and have been seeking that at shows for some time. I recently attended a show at The True Vine, a record shop and integral “third space” for the Baltimore underground. I was there to celebrate the tape release of a collaboration between Alex Homan and Suzanne Doogan, ably supported by opening sets from Mikey Powers and Ruby Mars.
The place was jumping as I arrived, shortly after “doors” (the shop may have been open before), There was one chair for show-goers, situated near the CD area, and it was already occupied. The person in the chair did not move out of it for the entire evening. And, boy, did I envy that person.
Shows can be a lot of standing around, often on concrete floors. When my discomfort in doing so gets to a certain point, I stop enjoying the experience.
This is not my first rodeo with getting burned out on shows. It is likely that every person who attends shows as frequently and for as many years as I have will deal with this from time to time.
A common “solution” is to lean into the low hanging fruit of drugs and alcohol, always around this world, to make things regain a certain intensity or spark.
This solution becomes its own problem, so I do not recommend it. Face the fear, the possibility that something is wrong with you, that shows aren’t going to do it for you anymore, instead of running from it. It is hard work, but it pays off.
There are, of course, other ways to party. One time, at an Unwound show in DC, (a person who I was told later was) Chris Bald stripped naked and began dancing on stage to the non-reaction of the sullen showgoers. He wanted us to party, I think, like how folks used to party at shows? But it was 1995 and that was not the vibe. He jumped back off stage, knocking Justin’s pedals and derailing “All Souls Day.”
If you want to get bummed, Google “48 Year Old Man”, which is what I currently am. There are not many fellow travelers who do what I do, have the experiences I have. I don’t think this makes me special or better, but it does trip me up. For example, someone at The True Vine show much younger than myself asked me if I knew a certain person.
If I followed the “script”, I would have said “no”, quickly proving the person’s point that said person wasn’t famous.
Instead, I apologized, saying it is possible I know the person, being as I have been around for so long going to shows, and started to drift into conversation.
The person then explained the “bit” and ended the conversation.
You gotta watch telling stories like the ones above, as we humans make meaning by telling stories.
You can turn any tale into one of bitterness or alienation or misery by the details you add or subtract.
This week’s column may feel like a big ol’ ride to “sad town”. I would rather write truthfully about how it is going than to hide or pretend. I find it cathartic, especially when you are not getting that experience elsewhere.
All in all, don’t get me wrong… I got to attend two shows on Friday, November 30th, both of which had strengths, merits and moments of enjoyment. The one at the True Vine allowed me back in the orbit of those folks who kept me going through their resilience during the depths of the Pandemic, holding the only house show I attended at the one moment it could happen safely. The other was an EP release show for a much lauded local band, Lathe. Everywhere I went in the days prior, I was asked “Lathe? Are you going to the Lathe show?” The show showed me why.
But throughout the evening I could tell I wasn’t being moved as I can be and often am. I don’t blame the bands. I know that something is going on inside myself. I push myself very hard to live the life I live, and, sometimes, something inside of me rears up to push back.
I greet it as part of myself, welcome it, listen to what it is trying to tell me, and act accordingly, to progress forward in a positive way.
Inevitably, I return.
On with the show.
