Too old to rock’n’roll?

Last night I went to my first proper gig since I can’t remember when. The first one in a rock venue and not an arts centre or upstairs in a pub. I didn’t know if I’d still like it.


I’ve been putting off going to gigs because standing up hurts (I have arthritis) and sitting down isn’t very rock’n’roll. But when one of my friends posted Richard Hawley’s tour dates on Facebook I thought I’d have to try again.

The venue had a lot of well-meaning information about access so I contacted them and they said they’d reserve seats. Which they did. They even had my name on them. They were at the back.

To be honest, they haven’t really thought out the disabled bit (some of the seats in crip corner were bar stools). To be fair, it’s probably the best they could do with the space they’ve got. But let’s face it, audiences are getting older. It’s something venues should be thinking about properly.

We got the comfy seats, along the side wall. This was great because it let us avoid the crowds (the other thing that worried me) and people-watch while we waited for the band. (Not so great when the band started and we were sideways-on. My neck hurts now.)

Most of the people we watched were middle-aged. But not all. The ones that weren’t were the ones at the front – where I used to be. When I was young, I never thought twice about going to gigs on my own. I wasn’t scared of crowds then. And I always squirmed my way to the front, and stayed there.

Later, when I was reviewing bands for a living, I’d stand with my notebook by the mixing desk. Still on my own. The only thing that scared me then was being bored. We didn’t have phones in those days to keep us distracted. The waiting about was the only bit I didn’t like about going on my own.

This time, I was in a couple like most people. We are so normal now.

And so are venues. There were posters on the wall advertising O2, and the bar staff had messages about Barclays on the back of their shirts. And there were ENOUGH TOILETS. That was a shock.

Richard Hawley talked to the audience about the days when the venue used to be a club with a non-corporate name. “It looks different now,” he said, “But don’t we all?”

When the band started it didn’t feel right to be sitting down. I was tempted to get up and dance on the seat, but that would have ruined my crip credentials. I could have done it: it just would have hurt the next day.

I’m not going to review the music: those days are gone. Let’s just say I loved all of it except the bit where it got a bit Jim Morrison. And when they played Tonight the Streets are Ours, I was in heaven.

Husband’s review went like this: “He’s best when he does the crooning bit. He sounds like Matt Monro.” Me: “But he’s more cool.”

Then I wondered: maybe he’s not. Maybe we’re all just kidding ourselves. Maybe he is the 21st century version of Matt Monro: middle-of-the-road music for middle-aged people. Maybe that’s why the band rock out so much nowadays. To prove they are still rock’n’roll.

Well, I still think they are. I don’t think I am, but actually I don’t care any more.

What I know is that I came out of the venue buzzing and I’m still buzzing this morning. And it’s a different buzz from the one you get listening to records at home. Maybe my gigging days aren’t over after all.