I was going to moan about "concert etiquette" today.
Jingo and I were at the Alli Palli (being Alexandra Palace in Wood Green, North London) on Thursday night watching Keane. It was their first concert tour since the lead singer, Tom Chaplin, came out of rehab. Incidentally, their last concert before he went into rehab was the V Festival, which we also saw. We could tell the difference. At the V Festival, they were flat and uninspiring. Thursday night, they rocked!
We were at the back of the crowd and numerous people were quite content to ignore the music and have their own little, yet not quiet, conversations. Fair play when the music is up loud on songs like "Everybody's Changing" and "We Might As Well Be Strangers" but not on some of the slower melodies, thank you very much. At that moment, I thought to myself, I'm going to blog this tomorrow and rip them to shreds.
Then the band eased into "A Bad Dream" and I forgot all about the inconsiderate knobs next to me. This song is my favourite from Keane's two albums and I was instantly captivated by it and sang out the chorus at the top of my lungs (albeit it in a scratchy, off key, droning kind of way).
My debut novel, in all of its splendid incompleteness, is always lurking in the back of my mind. As "A Bad Dream" played out before me, a scene suddenly materialised in my mind. It was so vivid and seemed so right, that I will bet someone else's left testicle that it will make it into the book. If it all works out and I am able to successfully transpose my thoughts and feelings to paper, my protagonist (and hopefully the reader) is going to feel the same emotions that I felt when that song was being played.
If I can manage that, consider the CWA for best debut novel mine! How's that for optimism?!
As for the insensitive a-holes lacking "concert etiquette" - if you want to have a chat, pi55 off and go to a f**kin' coffee shop!!!