Read this and was wondering (1) what boardies think of going to shows alone, (2) do you do so often, (3) if so, got a great story or particular band you *must* see alone?
The Glutton: Raw Power!
By Dalton Ross
EW.com
I go to movies by myself. I suppose the first time I did it I was a bit embarrassed, but I got over that pretty quick. In fact, I pretty much only go to movies by myself these days. There are two reasons for this, the first being that my wife and I have extremely different tastes in film. I usually prefer something involving a person chowing down on a live octopus or a posse of killer robots, while her two favorite movie stars of the past decade are Hugh Grant and Mandy Moore (which makes it even more surprising that she was only lukewarm on American Dreamz, a film seemingly cast solely for her). The second reason is that one of us usually has to be home with the kids, since we never seem to get our act together to secure a competent babysitter. So I got to movies by myself.
But this isn't altogether too odd. I sometimes see other people hanging out by themselves at the multiplex. So I decided to take it to the next level the other week by flying solo at a concert. Truth be told, the tickets fell into my lap at the last minute so the wife couldn't attend, and I did try to guilt a friend into going with me, but when she couldn't make it I became my own one-man army for rock! The venue: an ornate old theater on 175th Street. The act: the Stooges.
I guess a little background is in order. The Stooges are my favorite band ever. Unfortunately, the original lineup disbanded before I was born, but I went on to see their lead singer, Iggy Pop, countless times while growing up. I also caught the reunited band on their first tour back together a few years ago. They were awesome then, and I knew they'd be awesome again, so not only would I go see them by myself, but I would in all likelihood go see them by myself while wearing a San Diego Chicken costume if that's what was required. (C'mon, you know you loved The Baseball Bunch, too! Don't even front!) Apparently, I am the only one who felt that way (or, perhaps more likely, the only one dorky enough to not have a friend), as everyone else there was in groups of two, four, or even more. But as my millions of hours of solitary television-viewing should have taught me, company is overrated. Once the songs start, who wants to talk, anyway? And if you do try to converse, the person you're with can't hear you and you start to yell, and then they yell back, and then you both nod pretending you understand what the other person has said, even though in actuality, neither of you have a clue. (This exchange is usually punctuated with a high five of some sort, as a universal way of acknowledging that while you may not know what the other is saying, MAN DOES THIS ROCK F&#$ING ROCK!!!!)
That's my observation on attending concerts by yourself. But this show was particularly enlightening in another way as well: Age really is a state of mind. First, you have Iggy Pop, now 60 years old, running, jumping, punching, and stage-diving for 90 minutes straight. The guy was a nonstop lunatic, even allowing his ass crack and ''Little Iggy'' to sneak out on occasion. Every time I see Pop, I expect him to slow down and he never does. What was far more curious, however, was during the punk-rock anthem ''No Fun,'' when he invited the entire theater-full of fans up on stage with him. About 100-200 people took him up on the offer. Now, this is not the first time I've seen folks flood the stage, but it is the first time where the average age of the person banging into other sweaty bodies was in the 40- to 50-year-old range. There was one cat wearing skinny pants and no shirt with a huge ''I NEED MORE'' tattoo sprawled across his entire back. Again, not all that unusual. But the fact that he was completely gray and probably in his 60s certainly was.
I have to say, seeing this was the most exhilarating part of the show. It was one of the most communal rock experiences I've felt in a long time. The Stooges were always at their best when it felt like they were gonna tear down the place, and in this instance I actually found myself wondering if the stage could possibly collapse. Honestly, if it had, the people up there would have most likely been even more psyched. I'm not yet as old as some of the revelers that evening, but when I am, I hope I still have that fire in my heart, that passion in my belly, and someone to catch me when I no doubt awkwardly crumple to the floor in a pathetic heap. And who knows, maybe when that day comes, I'll even have someone there to share it all with.
