My anthem of '87 was 'She's Like The Wind'

I'm watching 'Anthems of the Year 1986-2000' on the middle-aged person's version of music television. 'I Wanna Be Adored' by the Stone Roses was the choice for '89. I think it was my summer anthem of '91, so at least I was only a few years behind. I know there are a few people waiting to hear about all the great shows we've been to, and I'm embarrassed to admit there haven't yet been any. We DID buy concert tickets, but ... (ducks head sheepishly) ... they're for Broken Social Scene. Yes, we came all the way over here to see a Canadian band. We may also see British Sea Power, but since we've already seen them in Toronto, that doesn't really count either. What can I say, Oxford isn't London to start with, most of the bands playing we haven't heard of or have and weren't blown away, or else the show conflicts with something else. Also, I'm old. And on that note, I've been reflecting on my changing attitude toward live music.

The phases of a former music snob’s concert-going life:

Ages 15-16:
Convince someone's older sibling to purchase alcohol months in advance. Get parents to drop you off ten blocks away. Arrive hours early to hang out and hopefully meet some cute boys. Watch opening bands closely, because they could be the next big thing and seeing them BEFORE they were big makes you cool. Then rush the stage when the main act goes on, and watch every minute in adoration. Scream yourself hoarse for an unprecedented fourth encore. Go home and cry yourself to sleep because the object(s) of your affection was/were so close, and your one chance of ever meeting them has passed. Relive the memories for months.

Ages 17-19:
Arrive hours early, but at least now you have driver’s licenses and someone has grudgingly agreed to stay sober (thanks, Chelsea!). Hang out and hopefully meet some cute boys. Watch opening bands closely, because they could be the next big thing and seeing them BEFORE they were big makes you cool. Then rush the stage when the main act goes on, and watch every minute in adoration. Remain standing and cheering for three encores. Hang around afterwards, until the designated driver gets fed up and announces she is leaving NOW. Relive the memories for weeks.

Ages 20-23:
Arrive just before the opening act, jam in as close to the front as you can get, and scrutinize the openers critically. Decide they’re derivative of Sonic Youth or just wanna-be Inspiral Carpets and feel superior. Lose your cool cynicism and go mad for the main act. Stay for the second encore. Afterwards, shrug, say, ‘enh, they were better in ’93.’ Feel superior. Go home and study for your exams because now that school is costing your parents a small fortune you are driven by guilt and fear. Relive the memories until your third consecutive all-nighter to finish those long-put-off essays makes everything that has gone before a blur.

Ages 24-28:
Arrive partway through the openers. Their reviews on Pitchfork Media aren’t that great anyway, so you only want to hear a few songs to know what people are talking about. Enjoy the main act, sing along, tap your foot, have a few drinks. Feel slightly relieved when there is just one encore, since you have to work tomorrow. Analyze the deficiencies of the sound person on the ride home and swear you’re never seeing a band at that venue again because the acoustics are terrible. Relive the memories for a day, since you're seeing two other concerts that same week.

Ages 29-30:
Decide you don’t want to have to stand for more than two hours, and skip the openers. Within minutes of arriving, get irritated by the people around you. Three songs in, realize you are uncomfortably hot and fight to the back to stand near an air vent or open door. Wish you’d brought earplugs because it is LOUD. Suffer from an aching back, try to stretch inconspicuously. Hope that someone in the band will be struck by food poisoning so that there won’t be an encore. When there is an encore, slip out and pride yourself on beating the crowds to the bus and getting home in record time. Relive the memories until your head gratefully hits the pillow. Forget about it entirely.

Age 31:
Go to the symphony instead.

Anyway, I promise to get out there more. Once I catch up on my sleep.

Addendum: Is it as frightening for you as for me that I know the words to 'November Rain'? (an Anthem of '92.) Can't remember my PIN numbers, but can't forget a song I liked for about a week in grade nine. I think that says a lot about my life.