To put it bluntly, it appears that people are having sex at concerts.
Don’t get us wrong. We’re no saints ourselves. We understand how a good show, such as ZZ Top or Wayne Newton, can give rise to feelings not normally felt outside the privacy of one’s home. However, there’s a time and a place for amour, and it’s not while Sebadoh, Counting Crows and The Walkmen pound the stages of the land bringing great music at a reasonable price to the masses.
Just think of it. How would you feel if you were James Hetfield of Metallica, and you looked out into the audience saw people groping and grabbing for each other while you practiced the artistry of your music? You probably wouldn’t like it one bit.
What’s more, consider the promoter’s feelings. They work their fingers to the bones inking deals to bring Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Superjoint Ritual and Kittie to your town. Promoters are upright, moral citizens and they do not want to see naked, nubile bodies doing things to each other that are probably illegal in most of the fifty states. Or very well should be.
This has got to stop right now, people! Exert power over your passions, leash that lust and control those cravings for physical pleasure and bodacious bodily bumping. Cher and Bryan Adams have worked hard over the years perfecting their craft, and they don’t want to see you and your mate (or mates) engaged in prurient displays of lascivious hormonal gratification. Put a lid on your libido, take a cold shower, think of “Weird Al” Yankovic, and do something, anything that will keep your mind out of the gutter and your attention on the performance taking place on stage. John Mayer, Leo Kottke and Bob Dylan are not there to provide the backbeat for your concupiscent couplings.
After all, that’s what support acts are for.