The independent music lover's dilemma
Maybe it's a festival performance that can't be believed; or maybe an open mic you wander into; or a showcase performance that leaves you breathless. However it happens, you have discovered your new favorite band.
You know the band I'm talking about. They're incredible. They perform (not recite), if for no other reason than they don't even have a CD available. Their songs sing to you. There's just something about them that makes you wonder why the whole world doesn't know about them.
So, you sign up for their mailing list, buy the home produced demos they sell only at the shows, sign up as a friend on MySpace and go to every concert. You go to open mics, hole in the wall bars where they play two songs in a showcase, coffee shops and even house concerts. You talk to the band before and after the show, hang out posters when they come to town and e-mail them on their personal e-mail accounts. All the time wondering, why doesn't the world know about them?
One day you hear them on a local radio show at three in the morning. Or a mention in some bizarre music publication or on a blog. You mention them in your blog, just to get the word out. Why doesn't everyone listen to them?
And then it starts happening. First, the performance venues get a little bigger. Then, shows start to sell out. Pretty soon, they're playing on bigger bills, opening for better known acts. One day, they're on the marquis of a local music hall. But with this popularity comes other things. You actually have to buy tickets in advance, and sometimes they sell out before you can get there. They have more friends than ever on MySpace. The band no longer has time to say hello before the show, and - if you're lucky - only a quick word after. More people than ever know about them.
Herein lies the dilemma, the warring instincts. As a fan, and almost friend, you want them to make it big. Your instinct to celebrate the success they have worked so hard for, and deserve so much. But, as a longtime fan, you're a little sad about the loss of intimacy. Concerts aren't as much fun, suddenly you get there hours early and still end up at the back of the concert. You instinctively wish for those more personal performances. Don't you deserve some recognition of your unflagging support?
Okay, so I realize most will not see this as much of a dilemma: the first instinct is pure, the second selfish. But, what fan hasn't experienced this at one time or the other? It's almost as if it's a different band - and often it is, as egos and eccentricities are magnified to fill the larger stage. But you still cling to the old days and offer your support and fight for a place at every show. After all, you want these people that have done so much with their music to be rewarded, you just wish it didn't have to change the experience.
You know the band I'm talking about. They're incredible. They perform (not recite), if for no other reason than they don't even have a CD available. Their songs sing to you. There's just something about them that makes you wonder why the whole world doesn't know about them.
So, you sign up for their mailing list, buy the home produced demos they sell only at the shows, sign up as a friend on MySpace and go to every concert. You go to open mics, hole in the wall bars where they play two songs in a showcase, coffee shops and even house concerts. You talk to the band before and after the show, hang out posters when they come to town and e-mail them on their personal e-mail accounts. All the time wondering, why doesn't the world know about them?
One day you hear them on a local radio show at three in the morning. Or a mention in some bizarre music publication or on a blog. You mention them in your blog, just to get the word out. Why doesn't everyone listen to them?
And then it starts happening. First, the performance venues get a little bigger. Then, shows start to sell out. Pretty soon, they're playing on bigger bills, opening for better known acts. One day, they're on the marquis of a local music hall. But with this popularity comes other things. You actually have to buy tickets in advance, and sometimes they sell out before you can get there. They have more friends than ever on MySpace. The band no longer has time to say hello before the show, and - if you're lucky - only a quick word after. More people than ever know about them.
Herein lies the dilemma, the warring instincts. As a fan, and almost friend, you want them to make it big. Your instinct to celebrate the success they have worked so hard for, and deserve so much. But, as a longtime fan, you're a little sad about the loss of intimacy. Concerts aren't as much fun, suddenly you get there hours early and still end up at the back of the concert. You instinctively wish for those more personal performances. Don't you deserve some recognition of your unflagging support?
Okay, so I realize most will not see this as much of a dilemma: the first instinct is pure, the second selfish. But, what fan hasn't experienced this at one time or the other? It's almost as if it's a different band - and often it is, as egos and eccentricities are magnified to fill the larger stage. But you still cling to the old days and offer your support and fight for a place at every show. After all, you want these people that have done so much with their music to be rewarded, you just wish it didn't have to change the experience.
posted by Chris at 4:24 PM
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