Tuesday, March 06, 2007

So for example I'd quite like to see Panda Bear, Thursday night. But, it's at 93 Feet East. Which means the Hoxton Gabarati will be in full gum-flapping effect throughout the entire set. These people go to see bands in order to have ticked them off their checklist of hip-prerequisites for the day. I'm still semi-traumatized by the sheer disrespect and basic rudeness shown to David Thomas and Two Pale Boys a few years ago in Spitz when the crowd seemingly consisted of one fan (me) and a hundred and fifty other shrieking semi-hysterics who obviously had to talk louder once the band came on, otherwise how would they hear each other over the music, yeah? People yelling into their mobiles a few feet from the stage, the general attitude that the gig was an unwelcome intrusion in the dull, endless narcissistic self-assertion availed by telling other people what you are into and who you know and what your current projects are and dispensing acute cultural observations that are designed to show just how far ahead of the game you are as your friends go through the same grotesque rigmarole, around over and under you, nobody actually listening to anyone despite the volume and the sweaty, desperate animation. The gig's just another space for you to roll out your threadbare "personality", even when they’re up on stage, it's still all about YOU. It never stops being all about YOU, does it? The witty asides you rehearsed, the books you want to name drop, the casual references to cultural goodies that show just how deeply mired you are in all things left-field and laudable. Social space is just another arena, after all, get the weapons out, attack. Almost as though gig-going were a professional obligation to be undertaken with fellow professionals in a spirit of aggressive competition rather than any kind of shared experience. Is there any substantive difference between this mentality and the Philistines over in Canary Wharf who still have Phil Collin’s CD's in their collection and stand around bellowing about their Salaries/bonuses/houses/holidays and spend all night in bullish but brittle ego battles? I find this professionalization of culture, the character of my fellow gig-goers, so downright fucking irritating that it makes me think twice about going to see stuff I really like. Clearly this is more exaggerated at certain gigs than others and in certain parts of town but Jesus, I ask you. Creatives!

"Come friendly bombs and rain on Hoxton..."
Update! This would be a good example of both the Panda's genius and the abominable, interminable chatter of the evil, Hydra-headed, Gabasourous Wrecks.

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