Wednesday, 4 April 2012

I Want To Be In A Band

The trill of concerts are what I live for. I'm never going to be the one that says that 'music has changed my life' because it hasn't, the people who are gifted enough to produce such sweetness for your ear holes have changed your life, not the petty 6 strings or the sequence of drums. I love to feel the passion of a band. When I haven't heard a band's song before I look at how they portray it, regardless of their background, for example I have no idea why, but the Carly Rae Jepson track, Call Me Maybe, makes me feel like a 7 year old pop fan girl whenever I listen it, and more surprisingly I love it. I  don't even care about how she has no initial fan base in the UK. Pop should be feel good music, none of this pretentious rapping about diamonds and taking pictures with some hot girl, which in reality probably works in dead end job or some shit.

I'm the girl that will happily sing and/or (if possible) mime to my favourite songs in her bedroom and perform to an 'in the brain audience' - I would say an imaginary but I'm fear of being locked up in some sort of institute. So when I got to a concert, I don't care for the theatrics. I want the feeling of being in your band, not just a fan. I want to feel the adrenaline, the alcohol, the drugs, the guitar, everything. And when you perform you should be showcasing you, not the corporate hot shots, because they have no musical talent, you do. When I hear new bands I love just standing in a crowd and feeling totally free about jumping around like a fruit loop. Support bands in venues like Brixton are the best because they're like wine tasting, you see their influences, who they're supporting and the vibe off the crowd to get the overall flavour. Mayday Parade for example, are all of this. They have great great hair, I could probably join their band with the length of hair on my head, and they probably have an initiation process in which you have to show you're preferred conditioner, which by default isn't a problem for me. But regardless, they made me feel like I wanted to be in their band and shake my brain around a bit.

I like the feeling of being involved with an artist. I'm going to be really really sad when they stop  producing CDs. They're special aren't they? Not in a 'special' way but more of a glittery shiny way. Literally. Whenever I buy one I feel like I'm contributing to the artist personally, like I'm physically holding a piece of their talent in my hands. Let's face it is the closest I'm going to get to actually making an album, so holding someone else's is the way to go.

2012 is going to be the year that some major labels are going to stop producing CDs, I understand that it's more ethical for our beautiful planet and technology is evolving rapidly, but what am I going to get my Mum for Mother's Day 2013?! I love getting a cheap album now and then off of Amazon or somewhere, but my Mum doesn't have an iPod, we have a record player and a CD player, that be all, somehow I don't see how she's appreciate an iTunes voucher.

But back to concerts, - and FYI mum, I've learn't how to spell concerts now. The best ones are the loudest. Basement Jaxx, put simply, blew my mind. I have no connection with mediocre volume concerts, I like it loud and there should be a law against non-ear shattering concerts. Always.

I realise I'm rambling, however there is one last important point I must stress; NEVER WEAR A SUIT TO A CONCERT. I hate it. I think it annoys me to the point were I will push you into a mosh pit and not care about your further well being. I've not had great experience with people in suits at gigs, one pushed me whilst trying to get out of a circle of death and knocked me over with his briefcase and backpack, maybe the world will never know how much I wanted to shout briefcase wanker at him, but hey, my dad simply said something on the lines of 'watch where you are going' and the overweight bald guy, I can't even believe it, poked my dad in the cheek. IN THE CHEEK, not even in a treating way, just like 'I'm not going to punch you, or even have a come back but this poke, this here poke entering your cheek right now, will let you know how much I wish I even wasn't here'.  I don't know, maybe that's were my aggression stems from, one guy that was too busy to change from work and foolishly had a brought standing ticket at Shepard's Bush.

And the moral of the story kids is to never chuck a full cup of beer over a man with a suitcase and join a band at the nearest opportunity.