FOOMP!

That was the sound of a dancer’s hand slamming into my cheekbone as I was minding my own business at a recent Cut Chemist show in Nectar Lounge. This incident—which caused no bruise, but did leave a psychic scar—illustrates three key rules of attending music shows: Be aware of your surroundings. Do not invade other people’s space. Understand that you do not exist in a goddamn bubble!

Now, as someone who’s been going to gigs, indoor and outdoor concerts, DJ events, house parties, raves, and record-shop in-stores for 45 years, I’ve picked up some hard-earned wisdom that may benefit the public. Much of what I’m going to say here should go without saying. Y’all should’ve learned most of this stuff before puberty. But each generation yields a high percentage of doofuses who need certain guidelines repeatedly drilled into their thick crania. And even then, many fuck up. Those Devo guys were right.

Okay, let’s go over some basic rules of attending music shows in an allegedly civilized society. 

STFU when musicians are performing. 

Literally nothing you’re saying at a show should take precedence over the sounds emanating from the stage—unless you are suffering a medical emergency. Or if you want to tell me that you dug that one blog post I wrote in 2013. Otherwise, zip it. We didn’t shell out $35 + fees to hear your inane babble. Some years ago at a J.R.C.G. show in Barboza, a few people nearby were shouting at one another in order to be heard over the band’s boisterous horns. Never, ever be those assholes. 

Do your damnedest not to obscure the views of others when taking pics/video with your phone. 

This is a corollary to the dictum in paragraph one. Sure, it’s crucial that you document shows on social media for street cred/brand-building/inducing FOMO in your followers. But be mindful about it.

Don’t sing along with the music... unless you have good pipes. 

We didn’t shell out $89 + fees to hear you mangle our favorite tunes with off-key showboating. If the urge strikes, just take your ass to the nearest karaoke joint.

If you jostle somebody or step on their toes by mistake, apologize. 

Sure, it’s super-important for you to rush up front so you can ogle that hottie at the mic stand, but a quick “Sorry” after a bodycheck or foot stomp goes a long way toward avoiding bad karma. I’m still fuming at the rude boy who rammed into me at Neptune Theatre circa 2017 as he sprinted to get close to King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard. 

Don’t be a sex pest. 

Always respect boundaries. Music shows aren’t CPACs.

Don’t bring food into the club.

Back in 2018, a dude carried some Bok Bok chicken tenders into Neumos, and the aroma was downright foul. However, if you must consume food while experiencing music, go to the Triple Door or Jazz Alley, venerable nightclubs with quality kitchens and classy decor. The bookings are often great, too. 

This edict applies mainly to jazz audiences: For the love of Alice Coltrane, please do not applaud until songs are finished. 

I don’t care if it’s “tradition”; clapping after solos or particularly delicious passages drowns out the very great music that we paid handsomely—or strenuously pulled strings for guest list—to hear. Such applause is more about congratulating oneself than rewarding the players. “Hey, everybody—look how awesomely I appreciated this part!” Yeah, yeah... don’t strain a muscle patting yourself on the back, bro.

If you stand over six feet tall, don’t post up near the stage. 

Look, you won the genetic lottery, so the least you can do is hang out near the back or off to the side.

Tip your bartender well—even if you’re buying non-alcoholic drinks. 

They have to put up with a lot of drunken shenanigans, cringe-y flirting, and, often, lousy music.

Bring breath mints. 

Nobody—especially me—wants to smell your rancid beer-and-cigarette breath... particularly when the band I spent $48 + fees to see is tearing the roof off and you’re jabbering in granular detail about the features of your new effects pedals. Not the time and place, Poindexter.

Wear deodorant. 

Yes, even you, Phish phan. It’s just common scents.  

Don’t fart, unless you’re in the bathroom.

Ancient Greek philosophers observed that sphincter control is crucial to the maintenance of civilization. And you know what? Those geezers nailed it.  

Don’t wear any MAGA paraphernalia.

Unless you want your head to be used as a speed bag. After all, this is the “Communist” paradise known as Seattle; be aware of your surroundings.

If you’re wily enough to sneak drugs into the venue (which I don’t condone!), offer me some. 

I’ll trade you for a breath mint.