I very rarely go to pop concerts. I wasn't really into music as a young man, hating the way people defined themselves by it and finding too much of it silly and pointless. But I was defining myself by this ridiculous stand and only hurting myself in the long run. Because music is obviously one of life's great pleasures and by denying it to myself I have only made my short time on this planet less amusing.
I am getting over this, but going out to a gig is still something I would rarely think of doing, despite having enjoyed
The Go! Team so much last year and resolving that I would live like a 21 year old from then on in.
A couple of weeks ago I realised that my favourite musical artist, Ben Folds was playing a short walk from my home at the Hammersmith Apollo. I tried to get a pair of tickets, but only single tickets were available and so I considered not bothering, but then I reasoned that it was better to go on my own than not at all. It was Ben Folds. He is my hero.
It was amazing.
Just as with the Go! Team within minutes I was thinking I had wasted my life by avoiding this kind of event - though the realisation last March has clearly not made me rush out to music events, proving that I am nothing but a prevaricating dick.
Folds was funny and charming, but mostly it was inspiring to watch such a great poet and musician performing live. It's incredible to think how many awesome songs this man has written. I had hopes of about four or five that might get an airing and the fact that most of them didn't even make it on to the set list shows how much he has created.
And being on my own was not an issure. Though it might have been nice to share it with someone else, it was also kind of cool to be able to enjoy it selfishly, unsharingly and imagine that the whole thing had been put on for me, which meant ignoring the 3000 people around me, but I was more able to do this as I didn't have to talk to them - perhaps they were just robots who had been placed in the auditorium to give a sense of atmosphere, as just Ben, his band and me sitting way back in row N of the Circle might have lacked the necessary fizz. It's a shame the organisers chose to put in the drunk cock about three rows ahead of me, who kept getting up to try and lead the crowd in cheering as if he was the centre of attention and who had to keep going out for more booze and to go to the toilet. I remember Daniel Kitson saying he had been annoyed by the audience at a Ben Folds gig he had been to and how it had been full of wankers who ruined the thing for him, but aside from this over-excited and crapulous fellow everyone seemed polite and normal.
It was very inspiring and emotional though and did set me off thinking about my script quite a bit, so maybe I should go to gigs every night and do my work while I am there. My favourite bit was at the end when Folds threw his piano stool at his piano in a rare moment of rock n roll excess.
Watching him banging away at the piano and his range of smaller synthesisers made me wish I had worked a bit harder at my own piano lessons as a kid. Who would have thought playing the piano could be so totally cool?
I ran home from the gig through the cold West London streets, feeling happy and alive. And that's all you can really ask from a night out. To make you happy and to remind you that at least for the moment blood is pumping through your body.
