I went to a gig a couple of weeks ago. A proper concert and on a school night as well. Kate and I went to see Kaiser Chiefs in Brighton and they didn’t disappoint; they played all the songs we hoped to hear – I Predict a Riot, Ruby, Oh My God, you name it – engaged with the audience well and featured a brilliantly sweary video appearance by Dave Grohl. It was great. But there was something different about it all – and I think it’s that we’re starting to feel our age.
We went to loads of gigs before we had Dylan and Xander. We would always be among the first people through the door and clamouring for overpriced lager at the bar.
We’d always get as close as possible to the stage and listen respectfully to the support act and stay there for the band we’d paid to see. We’d also be among the last to leave too – just in case we missed anything.
This time was markedly different. I work in Brighton, so Kate joined me there after handing over the boys to my parents. We went for a three-course meal and bottle of wine first, arriving at the venue ten minutes before the Kaisers took to the stage. I still have absolutely no idea who the support act was.
I was still in my work clothes and, tragically, had actually planned on this as wearing a shirt with pockets and a jumper over it was the best way of keeping my phone safe from pickpockets.
We got into the main area to see the oldest audience I’ve ever seen at a gig. It was decidedly weird. Refreshing, but odd nonetheless. We decided to stand near the back – mainly because we wanted to make sure we got out quickly at the end in case we missed the last train home. How boringly practical we’ve become!
There are no two ways about it; we’re getting old. Still, we enjoyed ourselves and it was great to finally see a band that we’ve both loved since they started out. Speaking of an enjoyable time involving music, Dylan went to his first school disco recently.
I knew he was going to have fun as he loves music and dancing – he was the only moshing shepherd in the school nativity – but I was a little worried that he would come back with a sudden love of all the dross in the increasingly pointless charts.
I needn’t have worried. When asked if he’d enjoyed the music, he expressed his disappointment that the DJ hadn’t played any Maxïmo Park or Kasabian. That’s my boy! Maybe we’re handing over the baton…