THERE’S an alarming tendency at modern gigs for exuberant conversation among gig-goers to be drowned out by the music coming from the stage.
Call it rudeness, call it self-indulgence, but when I have paid sometimes in excess of £15 to attend a concert, I expect to be able to hear the sound of me and my friends yelling to one another about the stuff that happened to us this week.
Having paid our money and located a good spot near the stage, I was annoyed to be put off by the strains of Van Morrison, who appeared to demand that we give him our undivided attention.
This seemed rude, considering I hadn’t finished my story about how I totally nailed it in a marketing meeting.
I go to gigs because it’s a great place to chat and I like to think of myself as the sort of person who goes to gigs.
Why won’t these so-called musicians respect that?