The world of live music often acts as a convergence point for the build up and release of sexual energy between its participants. The performer carries within them a certain sexual potency or je ne sais quoi that is brought out on stage and an attraction develops. The reasons for this attraction are not important.
Perhaps the crowd sees the performer onstage creating something; and through this act of creation, a sense of familiarity is fostered, allowing the night to become rife with possibilities among consenting parties.
But I wouldn’t know a thing about that.
I have been tempted many a time over the years, and I have always said no, opting instead to return home alone to watch X-files and eat Oreos as my after show ritual.
Needless to say this behavior could be particularly alienating, especially when a lot of my musical peers viewed playing shows as nothing more than a mere blip preceding the night’s bacchanalian activities.
I myself have always approached playing shows with the eyes of a shining puritan. To me music always had less to do with the opposite sex and more to do with the exorcising of any internal demons that I felt were the symptoms of a larger whole connecting me to everyone in the room. I was also fortunate enough to be in a band with two other people who felt the same as I did. And I think a lot of the time we were viewed as odd because of our behavior. The rowdiest thing we ever did was amass several speeding tickets under the heady influence of sleep deprivation and Nyquil while singing to The Carpenters on tour.
I guess the greater issue I’m driving at is people are strange, myself included. And nowhere is this strageness more apparent than in a room full of people at a show, and that is something I will always find interesting.
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