I love Rock and Roll

I love rock and roll crowds. I love the smell of someone else’s armpit, in my face. I love the refreshing shower of someone else’s beer, drippling down to my socks. And I love the crush of humanity that sways to and fro without any semblance of rhythm. Really I do.

I spent New Year’s Eve among the bright and brightest of New Zealand’s youth. Amidst the sartorially-challenged, I fitted right in. Beneath the moon, in the crisp December air, the sounds of Salmonella Dub and Cornerstone Roots floated over the bluestone ramparts of one of the oldest buildings in Christchurch. We rocked and we rolled. And as the beer flowed, the stupidity followed, and another imperfect meeting of minds and bodies was begun.

Live music is essential. It is the proving ground that winnows out the auteur from the merely angry. It feeds the artistic soul, both literally and as a participatory sport. Live music is music at it’s rawest, with all of the flaws and all of the beauty. On a magical evening, it is transcendent. On an earth-grubbing occasion, it epitomizes banality and self-indulgence. This night had a bit of both.

So, I’m in the midst of the crowd. Have you ever noticed how difficult it is to maintain your position in a particular spot? I mean, what is it that people feel the need to push up against you, placing you in the dilemma as to whether you should push back (with distinct frottage overtones) or whether to just go with the flow and drift aimlessly wherever the crowd should take up. Someday, I suspect I will find myself on the stage, wondering, well, how did I get here?

Ah, but there is something about mass movements of mindless morons. In the middle of all that peer group pressure, there is a crowd identity and with it, a crowd moment. It is easy to get swept up in it all. You let go. You give up. And in doing so, you find nirvana. The pulse of the moment, the pleasure of being lost in something bigger than yourself. One has become all, and all has become one.

And I find that moment addictive. I keep searching for it, always looking for the next great high, the next great band, the next great concert. I love losing myself in my music, and I am constantly hungry to discover what will be my next great obsession. Because that is where you’ll find me, lost in the crowd, searching for something. Maybe for my wallet or my cellphone, which I swore used to be comfortably in my pocket before some dickhead decided to liberate it from there. I guess I'll just go get another beer ...