I am what you would call an audiophile.  I love music, of all kinds.  Rarely do I not have music playing, or have a song running through my head, or, at the very least, am thinking about music in general.  As such, I think a lot about how music affects people, and how people react to it.  I read news about music and musicians, and I know far too much about albums that nobody cares about.  In the words of Jussypants, I am a rock geek.

As such, I’ve been to a few rock concerts.  From small gigs to massive festivals, I’ve been there.  Not as many as I would like, but that is a matter of geography and finances, unfortunately.  Given the opportunity, I would gladly spend every weekend amongst the sweaty masses, rocking out to a band I’ve never heard of.

Which brings me to the point of this post: rock concerts.  

It’s kind of a cliche that our parents don’t like rock concerts.  But things become cliche for a reason.  In this case, the generation before us, and especially the generation before that, does not understand the appeal of a rock concert.  My mom, for example.  In her day, she’s seen Conway Twitty, as well as Johnny Cash (something for which I will be eternally jealous) live.  But if I mention that I am going to a rock concert, and she gets upset.  

Why would I want to waste my money on that?

You see, it’s the crowd, I think, that is the concern here.  My mom’s only experience with a real rock concert, as far as I know, is seeing news bits about them on TV.  She sees this:

And she sees 20 000 people who don’t know each other, have nothing in common, and, since they are into rock and roll, will gladly beat the shit out of you to steal your shirt.

I see the same image, and what I see is 20 000 people joined together, all with the same passion, the same devotion, the same love for the music that is being played.  Yeah, you may hate the guy standing next to you, and outside of this venue you would probably run him over with your car.  But here, in this packed crowd, with the guitar wailing in your ears and the bass vibrating through your chest, you’ve gone beyond that petty hatred.  You and he, and everybody else in the crowd, you’re all bound together in a very special moment.  You are brothers, in a fellowship that trancends everything else.

You are there for the music, and that is all that matters.  

20 000 people all singing the same song, moving in unison.  Their voices raised to the heavens like a rapturous choir.  It is a thing of beauty, and I have never felt closer to a complete stranger than I have in that moment.  He may be a shit, but you’ll still pick him up if he falls.  Because the music, no matter how angry or aggressive it may be, is still the bond that holds you together.  

I watched a documentary a while back, called Global Metal.  It was this guy, travelling around the world to places where you would not expect metal to be prevalent, and examininig the thriving metal scene in those places.  He was interviewing a metalhead and musician in India, of all places, and what the guy said rang very true, and will stick with me.  He worships in a temple, and his guitarist worships in a mosque, but they play together in a metal band, because, as he said, music is like the sky above us.  There is one for everyone.