Fans filming gigs on their smartphones : our writer is laughing at you…
Imagine, your favourite band is coming to town, it’s £50 a ticket plus booking fee. Steep, but you’re not going to miss it for the world. You’ve got all the albums, all the singles. You’ve got vinyl, CD, tape, minidisc, the lot and so many memories.
That first lad’s holiday, the girl you met, she loved them too. She’s your wife now; you’ve got kids together and guess what? You guessed it, they also love the band. They sing the songs as you hurtle along in the car.
This band is still creating memories for you even today. You smile as you imagine looking back on these times as you reach old age, as the soundtrack to your life with even more precious memories shaped around their songs.
You LOVE this band. They are actually like family. If you met them, you’d fall in like old mates reminiscing about old times. Beer bottles would clink until the small hours when the first grey light of morning signals the dawn. There’d be man hugs and you’d shuffle off to bed brimming with content.
So, you WhatsApp the lads. Who can make the show? Everyone can make the show! Of course they can. Whoop! You’ve all been living parallel lives; they’ve lived this band with you. Their memories are your memories.
You arrive at the gig. You all walk in reservoir dog’s style, in slow motion, cool and self-satisfied. The ballroom smell hits you like a harpoon to the senses, the polished sprung floor, the grime and smell of economy burgers cooking in their own fat and seeping up the stairs. The smells cling to you like old relatives, it’s been a while but they’ve not forgotten you. You breathe it all in through your nose and exhale.
This is the gig of a lifetime; you’ve got butterflies in your belly. The lads arrive with pints of snake bite, CHEERS! Glasses crash and the sweet and sticky mixture runs over your hands and it feels good to be alive.
There’s tumult as the gods take the stage. There’s a rush forward, everyone sways but you lot stay.
You reach deep into your pocket and get out your phone. You raise it aloft in triumph, with sideways smirking glances you all raise your cameras and start filming. You stop and watch back what you’ve just filmed, it’s good, more memories. All your mates gather round they’re uploading their videos on Facebook, twitter and to other mates on WhatsApp. The song plays on but you’re watching back the first verse, who has got the best angle? You’re all watching and laughing as the song plays on. Who’s got the best memories?
The song plays on.
You’re king of the dicks!