Pre-show thrill doesn't compensate for lame concert

By Anna Thompson

Here is an easy guide to preparing for Sum 41's show at Stanton Field: first. buy garbage bags. In the past, the group has reportedly sprayed people with fire extinguishers. Second, listen to "Does This Look Infected?" and "All Killer No Filler" until your roommate burns the discs with a lighter. Third, be at the gates on April 17 at 6 p.m. floating on the grass with anticipation. And finally, hours later, at the end of the show, shuffle out disheveled and disappointed.

Inevitably, if you have attended enough concerts to understand the anger inherent in a $5 bottle of water, you have plenty of disastrous stories to tell. No matter what genre of music, from hip-hop to punk, or what size venue, from Shoreline Amphitheater to The Basement, it seems concert pitfalls exist everywhere. Some shows are spectacular; but for all those other shows, your ticket stub only conjures up images of an obnoxious, sweaty neighbor intent on your personal injury.

You may be disappointed as a fan, but the industry as a whole is not: In 2002 the live music business made a record $2.1 billion in ticket sales. Paul McCartney, the top-grossing tour artist last year, made $103 million. Although pulling in the profit, the industry is not pulling in the fans. Dollar figures may be up, but since Sept. 11 attendance is down. For the die-hard music fan, this means paying more money for a single ticket. If you are a Rolling Stones fan, be prepared to pay $119 (the average cost of a ticket on their 2002 tour). Yet your ticket price, whether it is $5 or $125, never guarantees a trouble-free concert experience.

The number one complaint among concertgoers and promoters alike is the audience. The more energetic the music, the more energetic the crowd, according to 26-year-old Valerie Polish, a San Jose native who has been to over 100 concerts and once broke a foot at a Metallica show. "You want to wrap yourself in a body condom before a show," said Polish. "You always end up with other people's blood and sweat on you."

Rowdy audiences attend all types of shows. KSCU disc jockey Alex Riley-Sorem refers specifically to what she calls the "roving mosh pit syndrome" at metal shows. She said it is like buffalo migrating when a huge group of people running into one another start to gravitate your way, with limbs and body fluids flying. Cameron Collins, local show promoter, said his biggest pet peeve at punk shows is head walking, which he describes as a person running off the stage, like Road Runner, onto other people's heads. His number one concern when throwing shows is people getting hurt and suing.

Even big-name artists with well-organized productions, professional staff, and a huge budget still disappoint fans. Collins said the ever-present advertisements, the overpriced food, and the closed-minded audiences that accompany huge artists like Weezer and No Doubt all bother him. Nathan Balderrama, a local hip-hop DJ who has thrown many concerts, hates big-name hip-hop shows that lack originality; all the artists spew the same cliche pleas for audience participation over and over. Balderrama said, "How many times can you say, 'Put your hands in the air?'"

But according to Sarah Stromska, a KSCU manager, the thrill of a live show eclipses the over-priced pretzels and routine performances. For her, live shows are a learning experience. "You listen to an artist's CD and you picture the song one way," said Stromska. "Then when you see them live, you get to see how they execute it and how they picture it."