To the twenty-something hipster with form-fitting sweater, shaggy hair and those hip, thick-framed glasses: I saw you at least, like, 50 times last night. You were on the balcony, at the bar, leaning over the stage, and at the other bar – all at the same time. Why did you spend the entire concert texting on your Motorola RAZR? Who were you talking to? Why weren’t they right there with you? Couldn’t you achieve the same effect by just staying at home in bed, putting on headphones and turning up some minimalist post-rock and electronica extremely loud?
To the teens-something hipster with the form-fitting sweater, shaggy hair, those hip, thick-framed glasses, and a girlfriend who was way, way too hot to be your girlfriend: Goddamnit, I used to be you. I saw you about 30 times, spurning your girlfriend’s affection in order to better enjoy what was, admittedly, a very good set from Mogwai. You have absolutely no idea how unbelievably lucky you are, a fact which you were totally ignorant of. If I had better basic motor skills at the time, you would have been running the risk of a serious head injury at the hands of my then-half-empty Guinness.
To the white guy showing his appreciation for the show by tapping his right foot and bobbing his head in a rhythm that somewhat matched the rhthym of the music being played on stage (but not quite): You’re making the rest of us look bad.
To the white guy showing his appreciation for the show by rocking out on air guitar regardless of the looks being thrown at you by the uncomfortable 15-year-old girls surrounding you: You, sir, are awesome. I want to be you. Well, I am you, but generally only when not surrounded by other people, except with the assistance of more alcohol than would have allowed me to safely (and legally) drive myself back home.
To Fuck Buttons: What the hell are you guys on? I’m not trying to knock your musical prowess or anything, but there was nothing about your stage presence that led me to believe your musical talent extends to pressing ‘play’ and some other buttons on a lot of little myriad pieces of electronic equipment at just the right time. I guess I’m impressed, but only in the same way I’m impressed by somebody who’s really good at F-Zero GX. I’m sure it takes skill, but not the same kind I admire in, you know… actual musicians. At least you tried to make fiddling with knobs really badass: you guys were like chimpanzees on Korgs, jumping around like knob-twiddling rockstars.