The SO and I went to see Sade last night. She’s a huge fan, and I like her just fine too. Spent about $180 on the evening.
So how was Sade?
She was quite good.
So how was the asshole sitting behind me?
He was louder than Sade.
Now I understand that a pop music concert is not the same as going to symphony hall, but Christ on a stick, why did this big fuck have to scream – SCREAM!!! – all the way through the show? He apparently was quite fond of Sade, to the extent that he could not keep himself from screaming all the way through the show. About every 2.5 minutes, this guy would let loose with a full bodied, throaty "YEAHHHH! or just a guttural sort of yowl that defies my onomotopaeic vocabulary.
Now mind you, this was not just a little yell to let Sade know that he was enjoying the show. Not just a friendly exclamation to affirm her talents. It was an all out, top of his lungs scream that one would expect of a drunken lout at a football game.
And this guy was big – considerably bigger than my big self – so he had quite the lung capacity. We’re talking some serious decibels here, folks. And because he was slightly elevated and about 8 inches behind me, it was all directed right at my head.
At first, I just grimaced and looked at my gal with bemusement. “Just a big Sade fan!” I thought to myself and hoped he would calm down. Nope…all the way through the damn show. And then there were the times when he had to SING the best parts of her songs so loud that he drowned her out.
And this is Sade music! Almost every single song is a sexy, breathy thing where you really want to hear her voice. It’s not heavy metal, it’s not a football game, it’s not a tractor pull.
Sit back and imagine hearing Sade sing “Is It a Crime?” to you, while some big fuck stands behind you and screams “WHAAAAAAOOOOWWWWW!!!”
No amount of angry looks from me and other annoyed people, nor several polite requests to ratchet down the noise, would convince him to stop. Once a few people left toward the end of the show, my gal and I moved a few rows away.
So to that guy, wherever you are now, I most sincerely say, Fuck you.
Or should I say, “FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK YOOOOOOUUUUU!!!”
– Greg, Atlanta
This is why I don’t miss going to concerts. Somewhere along the way I noticed that going to concerts was no longer about enjoying the performer, it was about trying to get everyone to notice you.
I realized this when I noticed that every show I went to, no matter who it was, there was a “mosh pit” or similar crap going on. Stage diving, crowd surfing, all that crap that is basically just some fool yelling “look at me, I’m in the pit!” (kudos to Evan Dorkin).
I saw a local band not long ago and had a crowd of four or five people yelling to each other throughout the whole thing. They had to yell to hear each other over the music, you see. Which means we could all hear them over the music as well. One of them even took a few cell phone calls, as cliched as that sounds.
So I don’t go see live music much anymore and I don’t miss it. Concerts are too damn expensive for very little payoff, to me.
So that was you sitting in front of me, looking all disgusted? So I love Sade. Is that a crime? 
Seriously, they should have a separate “screamers” room.
Ohmygawd…
I love Sade…
Just can’t WAIT for her to do a Playboy pictoral.
awwwwwww yeaaahhh!
Yep, buncha little posers, and the musicians usually don’t like it any more than you or I do. Here is a nice little essay by Ken Stringfellow, of the band The Posies, on just that topic.
Only takes one A-hole to ruin a public event. Maybe that’s why I’ve become a homebody?
And Sade might not be a tight end, but she’s got a tight end. 
I recently went to see some of my favorite classical music at the Hollywood Bowl (Rachmaninoff’s 2nd piano concerto and Pictures at an Exhibition, albeit the Ravel version) and, not being rich nor being able to finagle use of my dad’s company’s box seats, my family was in the benches. Not in the “smoking” section (anyone who’s seen a laser show there knows what I mean), but in the first section of benches.
My vast and seething hatred for humanity was renewed. In front of me was Tall Dickwad, who managed to eclipse my view of the ENTIRE Bowl (My brother’s 6’7" and he always considers the view of the people behind him). Behind me were the Noisy European Tourist family who had apparently never grokked the concept of whispering. Down in the front of the section was Cuntfunnel (my mother was much amused to learn this vocab word) whose stupid friends where obviously too dumb to get to the concert on time AND too effing blind to find their seats, so Cuntfunnel helpfully stood up during some Tchaikovsky and yelled to them for several minutes. My kingdom for a slingshot and some thumbtacks!
And to the several people who seemed to think they were auditioning for the Met, I came hear to hear the orchestra and the soloists, not your drunk asses! Cripes, you morons couldn’t carry a tune if it had handles, shut yer yaps!
You know Chekhov’s law, wherein if the gun is on the wall in the first act it must be used to shoot someone in the third? Likewise, if there is a wine/beer bottle sitting on on the ground during the intermission, it must be knocked down the concrete stairs during the most beautiful, quietest part of the music.
I love concerts, but sometimes I really hate the audiences … I learned Appropriate Concert Behavior when I was what, five? Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down, and enjoy the fucking music.
I’m gonna go eat some Kix now. Kix is a panacea.
I’d just like to know why Doc Holiday sits next to me at every freaking classical concert I’ve ever been to. ::dramatic pause during music::
Ahoo!, Ahhooooa!. Haaaawwwwkkk!
You can hear his phlemy sickness ratcheting around in his chest- as he waits for the quiet parts to let loose. WTF??
I think they should have a chest cold/TB section.
Zette
I totally agree with you. As soon as one concert goer commences the ole death rattle coughing, all the other phlegmmy folk nearby suddenly have an unbearable, irresistable urge to join in.
The crowds can border between amusing and so annoying you want to beat the shit out og them. I remember going to the U2 concert earlier this year, and there was a woman in front of us who must have been smashed after her first cup of beer. She was yelling random things and pawing at the air, like she could reach the stage like that. It wasn’t too bad, but the people with her just brought back more beer. Of course, she chugged it.
I envision winning the lottery and paying Sade to sing like that to me. Just sing, nothing else. While I lie naked on a pile of Circus Peanuts being fed seedless grapes by sumo wrestlers.
Shit, was that out loud?
B.
P.S. Hope the bad concert doesn’t come to mind when you listen to her songs!
She’s an extremely talented lady, but my wife gets pissed when I call her Sade.
“It’s prounounced “sharday”, you moron.”
Sorry. I keep forgetting.
Slip - (It’s pronounced “harry”)