I am fascinated with people who have hobbies.  Whether it is collecting antiques or building and flying remote controlled airplanes, I am fascinated by the dedication shown by the hobbyists.  Neither of those things hold any interest to me whatsoever, but I do admire the enthusiasm of those who do.  I have often thought about my hobbies or better yet do I have any hobbies.  My conclusion is that I like to listen to music and drink beer.  Fortunately, I can do both at the same time, which is very convenient. 

That being said, in the last five years, I have seen one band live in a bar, auditorium or club.  Why is that?  I wanted to find out why I no longer do something that was such a big part of my life. 

From the moment I saw Johnny Cash in Shreveport, Louisiana when I was five-years-old, I was hooked.  Once I was old enough to drive, I have seen enough shows that I have honestly lost track.  I lived in Austin when it truly was the Live Music Capital of the World and was in Seattle when Nirvana, Mudhoney, Mother Love Bone and the Seattle sound ushered out “hair metal”. 

 I’ve sung background vocals with the Beat Farmers in Tijuana (along with 20 others) and drank Jack Daniel’s passed from the stage with the Drive By Truckers.  I’ve also been so far from the stage at a U2 concert that I probably was in a different zip code.  I’ve had some incredible memories at concerts.  I’ve found love (at least temporarily!), and seen bands put on incredible shows that blew my mind.  On the other end, I have been puking sick and watched bands mail it in.  So why have I only been to one concert in five years?

The Song Doesn’t Remain The Same

The truth is, a lot of my memories are just that, memories.  Bands have broken up, members have died or they’ve just gotten old.  It is hard to watch one of your favorite bands still try to keep it going when they are well past their prime.  They no longer look cool wearing leather pants and the bleached hair has turned gray.  Many of the places where I saw bands no longer exist – they’ve been replaced by office complexes, chain bars or just leveled for parking.  I think it is better to remember them at their prime than to try to re-live it with a watered-down version.  I’d rather listen to them on my IPhone when they were at their best then see them live at their worst. 

I’m An Adult Now

I’ve never been a huge fan of mainstream bands.  While I do not begrudge a band for success and playing large arenas and stadiums, I tended to seek out the up-and-comers and that meant late nights in bars where the band might not hit the stage until 11.30 p.m.  When I was younger, I thought I would go see bands for the rest of my life but the truth is, they usually go on too late.  I remember seeing a comedian once talk about the idea that bands should have an early show for adults and then a late show for kids.  At the time I thought it was funny but now there is a sad sting of truth.  By the time most bands go on stage, I’ve been in bed for at least an hour.  I don’t like to think of it as getting old but more like I’ve got stuff to do, like go to work the next day.  The days of getting by on three hours of sleep and a hangover are long in the rearview mirror. 

No Mosh Pits – No Front Rows – No Festival

There was a time when being in the action was as important and being at a show.  I loved a good pit and had a battle tested plan for getting to the front.  If you want to get to the front of the stage, and there is not reserved seating, follow this simple plan.  When they zig, you zag.  Rock show crowds become a single living organism.  As people move through the crowd, holes open up, so you fill the hole and continue to repeat the process.  It takes about 20 minutes but it is guaranteed to get you close to the front. 

The truth is, now I would hate being up front.  If I were to go to a show, it would be very easy to find me.  I’m the guy in the very back of the venue, if there is ample space and not a bunch of sweaty 20 something’s around, that is where I will be.  

It is even more of a problem at festivals.  I used to be a regular at the Austin City Limits Music Festival, carting around my chair and watching bands in 100 degree heat.  Never quite understood the logic of having an outdoor music festival during one of the hottest times of the year in Texas, but I endured it for three days each year.  By the end of the three days, I needed an extra day to rest just to get over it but I did it.  Occasionally, I start to think of how cool it would be to go to Coachella or Bonaroo.  Then I start to think of what a pain in the ass it would be to sit out in a dirty ass field, sweating my brains out with 50,000 other people.  No thank you!

It’s Not Too Loud – I’m Not Too Old

As I write this, I realize that I sound like the guy that is always yelling at kids for playing in his yard.  “You kids get off my grass, ya hear!”  Is it too loud?  Am I too old?  Hell no!  I just have standards.  The truth is I’ve gotten spoiled.  After you’ve sat in a sky box at the Houston Rodeo to watch Toby Keith, enjoyed the free food, booze and other amenities, it is hard to go back to the old way.  I am not ashamed to admit that I like comfort.  It can be as loud as you can make it, as long as I have a comfortable seat, a cold beer and a little room, I’m good. 

No Regrets

There came a point in my life where I was no longer cool by the standards I’d set for myself when I was younger.  However, looking back those standards were pretty ridiculous.  While my nieces, nephews and friend’s children probably don’t think I am cool, I have developed a level of cool that will take years for them to achieve if ever.  I know what I want, am comfortable with who I am and am concerned with trying to be a good husband, friend and person.  I don’t need to be part of a scene.  My scene is whatever I choose it to be.  Now all I have to do is convince my favorite bands that a 7.30 p.m. show is a great idea!