Ah, the holidays. A time for loving and family and warmth, teeth-rottingly bad Christmas songs and diabetes-inducing themed coffee products.
It is also the time of year to highlight one of my biggest gig-going pet peeves: people who talk loudly at live shows.
This is when it’s okay to talk at gigs:
- If you’re at the back, by the bar. Unless the back of the bar is, like, 10 feet away from the lonely guy on stage strumming his geetar.
- If you’re in the bathroom. Unless what you’re saying is “Oh yeah baby! HARDER!” and you’re shagging the bassist from LouisXIV while your boyfriend calls you. (Wasn’t me. No, really, it wasn’t! But said musician did look pretty damn pleased with himself when he did finally return to the bus, that much I can tell you.)
- If you lean in to whisper to your friend: “Fuck, man, I love this song!”… as long as that’s pretty much it.
- It’s okay to talk if the band is, say, Grinderman or Mogwai or Dinosaur Jr., and you can hear them from space.
Here’s when it’s NOT okay:
- “HEY EVERYONE! IT’S MY FIRST NIGHT OUT WITH MY GIRLFRIENDS/GUY FRIENDS IN LIKE FOREVER! I GOT A BABYSITTER AND EVERYTHING! I’VE HAD ONE SHANDY TOO MANY AND NOW I’M HAVING SO MUCH FUN! WOOOHOOOO!
- You’re in the front row, inexplicably. You look bored as fuck, you’re rolling your eyes and talking to your girlfriend. While the performer is playing RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.
- The musican(s) are playing instruments that are actually quieter than your voice. Acoustic guitar, for one.
- OH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOUR HECKLING BETWEEN SONGS IS SOOO FUCKING FUNNY!
- You are singing along to your favourite song, volume cranked to crappy 11, at full-throttle. Hey guess what? Dude, I know you’re, like, the band’s biggest fan, but I didn’t pay $80 billion dollars in “convenience” charges to inconveniently listen to you.
But bands are fighting back. And while Japanese shirukens are probably the most effective when they make contact with a main artery in the throat, they’re not often employed. So here’s a selection of my favourite SHUT THE FUCK UP videos - really shitty quality videos, but REALLY EXCELLENT SENTIMENT.
Let’s start with the Grand High Poohbah of Shut the Fuck Up, Mr. Mike Doughty.
Now, Doughty may seem really crotchety (he’s had people thrown out of gigs for nattering too loudly) but his entire show is acoustic with a cello, and his banter is actually part of the show. He only comes to town once every year or so. You probably live here. I can listen to your idiocy anytime. So STFU. (Go to 0:28 for the SAGE WISDOM OF MD.)
Then there’s my other boyfriend, Lou Barlow.
Lou sometimes doesn’t mind if you’re chatting politely, it kinda takes the pressure off him, he’s said before. But you know, it’s just a guy singing quietly with a guitar or ukelele. RESPECT, people. If you don’t dig the music, go get a beer and talk back there. Or here’s a novel idea: don’t show up in the first place.
Ah, the Beatles. I mean, Tegan & Sara. “Your screaming is making me feel like I need to take a Xanax.” Yeah, me too.
Here’s Regina Spektor being incredibly politely pissed off. It’s kind of cute:
Not to put too fine a point on it: “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE” - Roger Waters, in 1977.
Finally, my favourite. Zach Galifinakis, tickling the ivories. He gets right to the point and has my eternal gratitude.
The moral of the story? If it’s THIS BAND, talk as loud as you like. And frequently. And in the front row. Hell, heckle all you like. Your talking will vastly improve upon whatever travesty is happening on stage. If it’s not? SHUT THE FUCK UP. \m/