This was Going to be about Justin Currie but…

Justin CurrieLast night I went to see the excellent Justin Currie (ex Del Amitri) play the equally excellent Arlington Arts Centre on the outskirts of Newbury and I had intended this to be a post about that but actually I am going to blog about the people that pay for a ticket, get pissed during the support and then shout through the main act.

I admit that I am approaching this from the view of a tee-totaller and you might tell me that my enjoyment of the music will be enhanced by having downed several pints of beer but I can tell you that MY evening isn’t improved by having to listen to you shout over the music.

Last night there was a group of five in front of us (inevitably men) and it became clear over the evening that one in the group was a fan and had persuaded a number of his mates to come along and so all through the concert we were treated to comments bellowed at his group such as ” listen to the lyrics on this one, brilliant!” or “if you are breaking up with a girl this is the lyrics”, well they certainly would be if you just shut the fuck up and let the rest of us appreciate them. Still it’s always good to have a mate guide you through the intricacies of a song rather than let you appreciate it for yourself. I wonder if he is such a bore sober because he certainly was when pissed.

I’ve seen this sort of thing before and the same thing always happens. Like a heckler at a comedy gig the inebriated individual thinks that he is a mate of the band and goes on to direct his enthusiasm at the band acting as if he is the only one there. Last night we were treated to insights such as “Where do you get your haircut, Justin?” (apparently his partner’s friend cuts it) and “where’s the after party?”

Regrettably it was equally clear that the friends that the bore had persuaded to come along were not won over by the magical lyricism of Mr Currie and held long conversations, ironically, about the break-up of one of their relationships.

So let me give you some advice. If you are not interested in the gig fuck off and chat at the bar or, here’s an idea, save yourself twenty quid and don’t turn up at all. Thanks!