I have this… friend, so to speak, of dubious roots and quirky nature. I always thought he is in his own world, but not too far removed from reality of mine. He invited me to his band's concert. I asked several times about the nature of the music he plays, for which I got some vague replies such as: cool vibe, cosmic rock, harmonic metal. Fine, I’ll go. I have committed. The venue that was hosting the collage of similar bands for the night is familiar to me from past experience with once in a lifetime trash death metal concert that I was also dragged into by someone else. Fine. I’m still committed.
I arrived to the bar with a small setup for a band and a space for maximum 100 shoulder to shoulder people. It has a bare naked atmosphere: no seating, no decoration, no bar games, and one conventional TV – a true savior here. The place has maybe 20-30 people corner to corner. All of them are very typical metalheads and their friends, bobbing their heads to what the hell ever is screaming, tearing, and banging on the main stage. Whatever, I’m still in my comfort zone. I went through this stage when I was young. Who didn't? However, the music that is raping my ears is just horrid because the volume is too loud, the room is not designed for sound, and the equipment is very low quality. The crowd doesn't seem to mind. Most of it consist very, very dedicated audience of some of the same people I remember from my incidental visit couple of years ago.
There were very few people, so as the bands switched out, the crew would simply jump back into the audience. They do it either out of sincerity of having fun, or sympathy of having fewer than 5 people near stage thus completing the circle of participation and support. It was all the same people, all the time. Some of them are young, but mature fans. Some of them are old school. And some even have silver weaving through their beards. They organized, they participated, and made their own crowd. That’s when an unsettling analogy slipped through my mind. They have been doing this once popular, but now outdated dungeon thing forever and failed to grow out of it like the most of their peers. It still provides them the same entertainment and hype, which is important, I guess. But from the outsider’s point of view it is such a pitiful sight! I understand them, I've been there, I know what it is, I enjoyed it immensely, but I did give it up and moved on without feeling a slightest regret. I wondered how long are they going to be there to enjoy those brown walls, outdated geometry, simplicity of rules, primitive sounds, and uninspiring models. How long will they be able to clap each other loud enough to make it sound like the room if full of people? And what happens when the organizers and the owners of these events cannot keep the means and the interest to facilitate the dream of the last few? And most importantly, does this apply to my interests that are only 2 steps ahead? Hard to imagine it doesn't. Whatever, I too enjoy what I do. Today, I still love QL/3, and I pity the others. And for their sake, I hope they do too.
I arrived to the bar with a small setup for a band and a space for maximum 100 shoulder to shoulder people. It has a bare naked atmosphere: no seating, no decoration, no bar games, and one conventional TV – a true savior here. The place has maybe 20-30 people corner to corner. All of them are very typical metalheads and their friends, bobbing their heads to what the hell ever is screaming, tearing, and banging on the main stage. Whatever, I’m still in my comfort zone. I went through this stage when I was young. Who didn't? However, the music that is raping my ears is just horrid because the volume is too loud, the room is not designed for sound, and the equipment is very low quality. The crowd doesn't seem to mind. Most of it consist very, very dedicated audience of some of the same people I remember from my incidental visit couple of years ago.
There were very few people, so as the bands switched out, the crew would simply jump back into the audience. They do it either out of sincerity of having fun, or sympathy of having fewer than 5 people near stage thus completing the circle of participation and support. It was all the same people, all the time. Some of them are young, but mature fans. Some of them are old school. And some even have silver weaving through their beards. They organized, they participated, and made their own crowd. That’s when an unsettling analogy slipped through my mind. They have been doing this once popular, but now outdated dungeon thing forever and failed to grow out of it like the most of their peers. It still provides them the same entertainment and hype, which is important, I guess. But from the outsider’s point of view it is such a pitiful sight! I understand them, I've been there, I know what it is, I enjoyed it immensely, but I did give it up and moved on without feeling a slightest regret. I wondered how long are they going to be there to enjoy those brown walls, outdated geometry, simplicity of rules, primitive sounds, and uninspiring models. How long will they be able to clap each other loud enough to make it sound like the room if full of people? And what happens when the organizers and the owners of these events cannot keep the means and the interest to facilitate the dream of the last few? And most importantly, does this apply to my interests that are only 2 steps ahead? Hard to imagine it doesn't. Whatever, I too enjoy what I do. Today, I still love QL/3, and I pity the others. And for their sake, I hope they do too.
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Edited by donka at 14:48 CDT, 31 October 2012 - 8142 Hits