Apparently concert venues are having a hard
time getting Generation X to fill the seats.
Well, hello. Generation X here. I think I can help. You're welcome.
(This also applies to the Baby Boomer generation)
DEAR CONCERT VENUES:
Decent ticket prices. I should not have to sell blood, the blood of my children, and take out a small personal loan to see someone I listened to on a cassette t
Earlier shows. No more 8 PM start times. Give me 6:30. I don’t like driving home in the dark anymore and by 10 PM my body has begun shutting down nonessential systems.
Comfortable seats. Yeah, I said it. And while we’re at it, STOP PACKING US IN LIKE SARDINES. I would like to sit down without becoming intimately acquainted with the stranger beside me.
CUP HOLDERS. We have the technology. Please use it.
No general admission. I’m not standing for four hours protecting my spot like it’s beachfront property. Give me a seat with a number on it.
Reasonable parking. Preferably somewhere in the same zip code as the venue.
Clean bathrooms. Enough of them. With toilet paper. We’re not asking for a spa. We’re asking for basic civilization.
Turn it down just a smidge. We still want it loud. We just don’t want our ears ringing for the next three business days.
DEAR ARTISTS:
Go on stage ON TIME. If you say 7:30, we have planned our entire evening around 7:30. Respect the schedule. We have dogs to let out.
I came to hear YOU sing. I know the audience knows all the words. That’s wonderful. Let us have a chorus here and there. But please stop holding the microphone toward the audience for half the performance. I did not pay $200 to hear Brenda from Row G sing your greatest hits.
We get it. You’re proud of your new album and you’re probably bored to death with the old stuff. Sing a couple of your new favorites. We will listen. We will support you. We may even like them. But then go back to the oldies. That’s why we’re here.
Because every time you play something nobody knows, Bob decides that’s his opportunity to get another beer. Then Bob has to pee four times because he drank the beer. And every single time Bob leaves and comes back, the entire row has to stand up.
My knees cannot handle this much up and down. Please. For the sake of our joints. Play the hits.
And you know what? Throw in an intermission. We can pee, stretch our backs, check the dog camera and regroup.
We aren’t done going to concerts.
We’re just at an age where the experience has to be worth leaving the house.
You want Generation X back in those seats? We just no longer have the desire to suffer unnecessarily.
