Whenever I go to rock gigs nowadays, I despair. I find that I am surrounded by 15 year old Simon Amstell wannabes, in their skin tight jeans, fuzzy hair, and bootleg band T-shirts. The naughties have been incredibly harsh on this, dying genre of music.
Indeed, if you approach one of these teens in their “Iron Maiden” tees, and ask them to name 5 songs by the band they have chosen to have proclaimed to be a fan of through their clothing choice, they’ll either name two albums, then stop, or fail completely. Either that or call you a pedo and walk off, leaving you feeling weird and slightly tarnished.
So it was with great apprehension and anxiety that I let a friend of mine drag me to a rock gig this week. A feeling it seems, that was completely misplaced.
“MelonHead Man” were an awesome band. Incredibly retro, but in that good, clean way, that hasn’t been set up by popular media as a demographical tactic. From the moment the front-man picked up his American flag guitar, sprawled with confederate flags, to the moment he put it down, shouting at the crowd, “Thank you in the front, and damn you sat down” (pointing to a middle-aged man, now spluttering his Bishop’s finger) I was enthralled.
An hour and a half had gone by while the band was jumping up and down, playing their hearts through their instruments. Rocking out in a way reminiscent of a youthful Metallica, mixed with a sort of “Dallas” appeal. Their songs were loud, brash, risqué, and most importantly, crowd pleasing. The audience were hooked on their every word, every note and every motion. Jumping up and down in time with the drum beats and singer. They included everyone in the trance-like state they played in, from the 16 year olds who had snuck in, to me and my group of 20-something friends at the front head-banging to the beat.
They knew how to play their crown, to pander to them leaving them pining for more. And that’s what matters with music, what really counts. That you can follow the band, not what some radio controller is telling you to like, but that you can feel the presence of something truly great as the band plays. That you can feel like you’ve lost something when they stop, and it’s time to go home. That when the band announces they are selling their CD out of the back of the truck you will rush with them down a dark alley to buy it, not caring that you can’t now afford a taxi home.
So, it’s from a dark alley somewhere in Canterbury, stranded with no way home that I tell you, go see MelonHead man. Now, how do I get home?
Oh, and for those of you intrested in more, Be sure to check out the bands Myspace page.
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