“Anachronism” is one of those SAT words which, when used in reality, generally serves one of two purposes: displaying high levels of intelligence or impressing women. A stranger to neither of the two purposes, I feel the need to use this such word to describe my weekend. Ask the great wordsmith Mr. Webster, and he’ll tell you that an anachronism is something out of place with respect to time. For example, if you were to see a microwave sitting behind the Twelve Disciples in a picture of the Last Supper, that would be a prime example of this word which I’m already sick of typing. Saturday evening, it occurred to me that my friend and I were part of a living anachronism, a human representation of a mistake in time. And yet, odd as it may seem, I’d never felt as in my element as I was that very evening.
The event was a concert, but not just any old concert. Indeed, this was a concert fit for the gods themselves, one worthy of hyperbole and great praise. The lineup: Styx, Foreigner, and Kansas. Now, for those of you born after 1990 or those who have never had the pleasure of listening to a classic rock radio station, these three bands are among the most famous of the early 80’s rock movement. I would describe their style as a combination of flair and power, with a heavy dose of falsetto thrown in for good measure. My kind of groups. I could write for days about the power of their music or the greatness of their voices, but today I want to describe the other aspect of the concert that drew my attention: the fans.
Music is timeless. Fans are not. Music can last for centuries on end, providing generation after generation with enjoyment. Fans cannot. Music heard today can sound exactly the same as it sounded the day it was first performed. Fans, today, look much, much different from the day they first “performed.” One glance around the audience, and it immediately became clear that my friend and I had entered an entirely different realm of existence, one where grown men and women, dressed not just similar to what they wore in 1979, but exactly what they wore in 1979. We came to enjoy the music and see a good show. They came to enjoy the music, see a good show, and teleport back in time. It got me thinking: What are the main differences between concertgoers in their twenties and concertgoers in their fifties? Let’s examine.
ENTHUSIASM
Twenty-somethings: Excited, ecstatic cheering and occasional sing-a-long with the band
Fifty-somethings: Pure, unbridled emotion; Something that can only be described as a “cheergasm”
In this instance, the twenty-somethings are at a severe disadvantage: time. The fifty-somethings come to the concert with thirty extra years of pent-up enthusiasm. That’s thirty years of sitting in their basements, listening to old records, cheering on the old glory days and wishing, just hoping, that someday they could recreate the moments of their twenties.
DANCING
Twenty-somethings: Dance in place; express delight yet remain respectful
Fifty-somethings: Neglect all semblance of what we commonly refer to as “personal space”
It is worth noting that this category may be affected more by alcohol than by age, yet there was a stark contrast in dancing styles evident in the arena. When the music was at its apex and the energy was prevalent, my friend and I had no problem shaking our groove things, but well within the confines of our own areas. Our neighbors, meanwhile, apparently had no such boundaries. There was a moment during the concert where I’m pretty sure my friend received an uninvited, fully clothed lap dance. The fifty-somethings like to explore the area they are in, to see where the music takes them. As was often the case, the music would take them all up in my face. I spent much of the evening wishing they would carry on their wayward butts back to their seats.
HISTORY
Twenty-somethings: None
Fifty-somethings: Plenty
Perhaps the most heart-warming moments of the night involved listening to some of the fifty-somethings tell us how long they’ve listened to the bands on stage. Many had seen these same bands in concert long before my parents even knew how to twinkle their eyes. This was evident simply by reading the backs of many of the t-shirts, as they would often describe the “Rock On! Tour 1983′ or “Living in Rock! Tour 1981″, etc. However, it wasn’t enough for the concertgoers to simply inform us of their history with the bands. It wasn’t enough that they display on their backs the experience they own. As one gentleman to our right showed, it was often necessary to project this history to the entire audience. As each band played their first song, he would leap out of his chair, stretch out his hairy oft-tattooed arms, and proclaim with authority, “1978, baby! And still rockin!”
Yes, I know. That’s me in thirty years.
