I went to The Decemberists’ concert at the Wiltern last night. A great band, Loch Lamond, opened for them. Overall, it was a great show, save for the Decemberists passing up my most loved songs in favor of more upbeat hits conducive to audience participation and call-and-response. Since I’m not a concert reviewer or music critic, I won’t use this space to rant or rave about them, because all a curious soul has to do is look them up online to experience the unparalelled magic and wonder.
What I want to say briefly here has to do less with singing and more with talking, or with the simultaneous occurrence of the two. Last night I had to ask, as politely as I could, four girls (2 in front, 2 beside me) to stop chatting with each other during the songs. I’m not afraid to do this, even though the live concert is somewhat of a social event and booze is served and dancing and singing along are all part of the fun. But, I do not spend what I consider to be more than a fistful of change to listen to complete strangers’ conversations while the band plays on in the background. When I asked the second girl to stop talking, she turned back to me and very excitedly explained to me why she was talking, what it was she was talking about and that she has a chronic problem – she can’t stop talking! Then she said she was going to the bar and asked me if I wanted anything. Oh my.
I just want to implore all the Chatty Kathies and Jabbering Joes out there to give it a rest for three hours - not even three hours, as you can spill your guts out during the set break and then zip it when the lights go down again. We don’t want to hear about how much you love this song (we love it too!) or how your other friend (whose not even here and doesn’t even know who The Decemberists are) decided to take a weekend intensive at the Learning Annex. No. What I want to hear is this:
In the lowlands, nestled in the heat
A briar cradle rocks it's babe to sleep
Its contents watched by Sycorax
And patagon in paralax
A foretold rumbling sounds below the deep
Loud and clear.
What I want to say briefly here has to do less with singing and more with talking, or with the simultaneous occurrence of the two. Last night I had to ask, as politely as I could, four girls (2 in front, 2 beside me) to stop chatting with each other during the songs. I’m not afraid to do this, even though the live concert is somewhat of a social event and booze is served and dancing and singing along are all part of the fun. But, I do not spend what I consider to be more than a fistful of change to listen to complete strangers’ conversations while the band plays on in the background. When I asked the second girl to stop talking, she turned back to me and very excitedly explained to me why she was talking, what it was she was talking about and that she has a chronic problem – she can’t stop talking! Then she said she was going to the bar and asked me if I wanted anything. Oh my.
I just want to implore all the Chatty Kathies and Jabbering Joes out there to give it a rest for three hours - not even three hours, as you can spill your guts out during the set break and then zip it when the lights go down again. We don’t want to hear about how much you love this song (we love it too!) or how your other friend (whose not even here and doesn’t even know who The Decemberists are) decided to take a weekend intensive at the Learning Annex. No. What I want to hear is this:
In the lowlands, nestled in the heat
A briar cradle rocks it's babe to sleep
Its contents watched by Sycorax
And patagon in paralax
A foretold rumbling sounds below the deep
Loud and clear.
Here's to the the power of engaging yourself in live music.
