I’ve always liked to think of myself as a seasoned concert-goer – rock music that is – but these days, that would be a wishful-thinking kind of lie. Gone, long gone, is the era when I regularly filed out of pubs at 1am, ears ringing, high on the heady joy of watching a really ace band do what they do best. Ah, salad days – I gave that up long before becoming a responsible adult (read "parent") – in favour of jogging to a rotating iPod library of songs, or turning up the music loud in the car.
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But last weekend, at a live show, I experienced a similar kind of euphoria to those gig-going days. The room was packed, and noisy, and filled with anticipation. The music on stage was turned right up and when the stars appeared, cheers and catcalls echoed around the space. And the stars themselves were top-notch – consummate performers, professional, talented, used to being recognised but willing to ham up the modesty. And the crowd –dancing madly and singing along – got it. I got it. I got right into it. I used to be one of the faux-impervious types, standing still and nodding along to the music while others flung themselves around closer to the stage. But, this time, I was singing and cheering with the best of them.
Of course, there is something irresistible about watching a bunch of toddlers – your own included – singing and doing all the actions. Dingle-Dangle Scarecrow, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star – all the hits were there. And yes, it was a Saturday afternoon, the venue was the Albert Hall, we were all sitting on the floor and the stars were from Play School. The whole thing was over in 40 minutes, and there were no encores. But the whole experience was lit up by the same glow that comes from all the stars of a good show aligning: anticipation and joy, the camaraderie that comes from knowing you are among friends, the faux-eye-rolling glances exchanged among parents, the cheeky, self-aware subtext in the hosts’ performance. "Come on you lot," said one. "I help you out every morning and afternoon – give me something back!" And we did. We clapped our hands and shouted the words. We lived in the moment. And, filing out, we compared notes with familiar faces and could barely wipe the smiles off. If this is the new era of live music, I’ll take it. As long as it’s over in 40 minutes.
