Living & Arts

Concert etiquette needed by all

In print | April 17, 2008

While the nearly successful attempt I made last week to attend four concerts four nights in a row may not have done much for the stack of unopened books sitting on my desk waiting to be read, it did remind me, often through the figure of the large, sweaty, swaggering and rowdy Drexel frat boy, of the unspoken rules of concert etiquette and of why these rules were nonverbally but communally accepted in the first place.

Though I don’t mean to encroach on The Etiquette Fairy’s territory, I felt compelled by all of last week’s mishaps, the faux pas and the breaches in proper concert conduct to dedicate this column to the pierced, polo-wearing boys with the Yuengling, to the unattractive couple with the wandering hands, to the solitary boy with the red waist-length mane who wouldn’t tie his hair back and to the obnoxiously chatty girls who made sure everyone around them heard about their desire for Dirty Projectors to finish their set. Though most of these “rules” are very commonsensical, people, it turns out, often don’t think or act very commonsensically.

Firstly, don’t push your way to the front if you don’t really want to see the band. No, seriously, I mean it. If you’re going to be up front and situate yourself right in front of other people already standing there (me), you better be having a damn good time and I better be able to see it. Don’t stand there motionlessly, whining about the opening band’s set, loudly wondering how much longer they’re going to be playing for and chattering above the music. If you don’t want to see the band that is currently on, get out. Go to the side. If you’re just going to talk to your huddle of broskies while you have some brewskies, remove yourself from the front where I have to look at you while I’m trying to dance and go somewhere else.

If you are over 5’7", do everyone a courtesy and stand a little to the side rather than the middle of the very front. People need to be able to see over you. That close to the stage, you’re only creating a vision-obscuring shadow over the place bigger than the dust cloud that killed off the dinosaurs. We are not all as tall as giraffes, be sensitive to those of us under 5’4" and stand somewhere that allows other people to still see.

If you do have a really compelling need to be toward the front of the stage, say “please” as you ask those around you if you can get through. Stepping on my feet and passive-aggressively elbowing me to try to break through the amorphously messy rows is not going to win me over and instill in me a desire to let you pass through.

If you’ve brought your camera with the intention of taking pictures recreationally, please don’t use your flash. It’s annoyingly distracting to both those in the crowd and the musicians. If you have some sort of really compelling reasons as to why you need to turn on your flash and get perfectly non-grainy pictures, please don’t take 50 shots per song. That’s highly unnecessary and makes me think you’re here to record the fact that you’re seeing the band rather than to actually see the band.

Sitting down before or between sets is not acceptable; it’s wimpy. If you’re at a standing show and are going to whine about being tired, then you clearly need to toughen up a bit or head over to the back where you can sit on a banister or some sort of ledge. Sitting down in the middle of the floor just makes it difficult for those around you to navigate the space and is, plainly, just not a privilege that’s been awarded to you. Everyone has to stand, I don’t care if you’re tired, so am I. If you feel like sitting, do it somewhere that’s not the middle of the floor.

On a similar note, if you can’t deal with sweaty bodies jumping on top of you, people’s elbows coming in from all directions crushing your ribs, being kicked or head butted or shoved around, or if you just generally can’t handle the feeling of being in a human trash compactor and are going to complain about needing personal space, then please stay away from the front of the room. Personal space does not exist on crowded dance floors, and if you expect it, then you’ve been severely misled. If you’re going to complain about not being able to breathe, leave and find somewhere you can.

Anna is a sophomore. She can be reached at azaloko1@swarthmoe.edu.