One of the many benefits of living in Charlottesville is the city's music scene. C'mon, we gave Dave Matthews his start. During the past year, students had the opportunity to see U2, John Mayer, Metallica, Wiz Khalifa, Iron & Wine, Taylor Swift, B.o.B., Dave (x2), Sam Adams, Sugarland, Bob Dylan, Matt Costa, MUSE and Lady Gaga - to name just a few.
Often, the venue in which these artists perform can make the experience even more fantastic. Downtown has great venues such as the Paramount and Jefferson Theaters - both of which are absolutely beautiful and provide awesome live-music atmospheres. On the other hand, people you share your musical experience can in fact detract from your concert night.
Last weekend, I found myself at the Jefferson for the first time. Call me a nerd, but the interior is gorgeous. Walls that gorgeous do not deserve to see something as rowdy as a concert. Classical music concerts and operas are the only events classy enough to be seen by those walls. Not that the concert wasn't awesome, because it was one of the best I've seen, but somehow the middle-school students in attendance ruined the atmosphere.
I don't dislike middle-school students anymore than I dislike first-year students. Just kidding, I retain a certain fondness for the firsties. I remember those awkward middle-school years and pity those going through the pain now. I wanted to tell them, not to worry because their awkwardness would subside soon. But as soon as the band started playing, my pity for the early teenagers disappeared and my distaste for them onset. I'm sure these were the cool middle-school kids, the ones cool enough to go to a concert with high-school and even some college kids. And, obviously, the kid in the plaid fedora was his grade's Colin Farrell. But I realized these kids weren't like me at their age - they were unaware of the judgmental glares being shot their way.
I was not only put off by their appearances but also by their crazy behavior. Arms flailing, belting out every word at the top of their not yet fully developed lungs. I didn't come to hear the angelic voice of the 13-year-old next to me - I came to hear the band. I may sound like a conservative grandparent, but I've always been an old soul. Their behavior was appalling. I don't know which was worse - the kids trying to start a mosh pit or the couples who had not yet hit puberty gently swaying to the music. Settle down, children. It's not that kind of concert and especially not at the Jefferson. Have some respect.
To avoid the child in the fedora and his female counterpart - the girl with half a stick of eyeliner on each eye - I turned to see who was standing toward the back of the crowd. Clearly, it was the adult section. The adult section was divided into two subgroups - the 30-year-olds reliving their childhood and the parents keeping tabs on their children. Each group had beers in hand. The 30-year-olds were closer to the sloppy side while the parents were more reserved.
I found myself in an awkward place in the Jefferson that I am in real life, standing with some good friends in a place between child and adult. If you want to get technical, I'm an adult. I can vote, smoke, get married and fight for my country. If you want to get realistic, I'm a child. My true age is 7. Most days, I can't believe I'm allowed to drive a car. I am still dependent on my parents, from paying my tuition to telling me what I need to buy to make guacamole. Child? Adult? I don't know.
Do I try to push my way up to the front of the crowd in attempts to get six inches closer to the lead singer? Do I stand in the back watching the insanity from afar? Do I settle for the subtle head nod, or go for the rocker fingers thrusting in time with the music?
I'll go for the middle ground - arms to my side or out in front with knee bends. I'll move my mouth, like I know the words to every song. Who knew these middle-school kids could make me feel self-conscious? That's not what the concert is about. The music is meant to take you some place free and relaxing. But somehow, at this performance, I wasn't being taken away. I was right where I was in life, confused, filled with questions. Midway through the set, I calmed my racing mind. I relaxed and thought only about the music and the band. I let the music take me away.
Next time you find yourself at a concert, take a look around. See the crowd for what it is. Shake your head at the crazy young'uns and nod your head along with the old people in the back.
Abigail's column runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at a.sigler@cavalierdaily.com.
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