Everyone knows that song by Bryan Adams. He still performs it. Think about that! He continues to reminisce, in verse, about a summer he lived through forty years ago. Forty years! I mean, I’m sure the summer of ’69 was something very special, but I doubt the essential features of it warrant the level of retrospective analysis afforded to it by that song.
Some people just can’t cope with living in the present. Like the people who want to hear a band play old songs instead of new, or the douche-bags at comedy clubs who yell out references to old material.
I saw Doug Stanhope last night. I started drunk and got drunker, so this is no reflection on Doug’s splendid material, but my primary memory of his set is of one guy in the audience who kept yelling stuff out. Not heckling exactly, just making inane references to old material. It wore everyone down, it ruined the flow; it was just a bummer. Artist versus autist.
You don’t interrupt a doctor in the middle of a diagnosis, so why interrupt a comedian in the middle of a bit?
Doctor: Well, I think you are experiencing minor blockage of the aor—-
Doctor: Of the aortic valve, which me—-
Doctor: Which means you’ll need to have a minor surge—
Right? Same thing. A guy trying to do what he’s getting paid to do, being dicked around by someone for whom a full-term abortion would have been justified.
That’s the problem with crowds. 99% of all people everywhere are ok, but that means in a crowd of 200, it’s statistically probable that you’ll have to either tolerate or kill a couple of sociopaths.
I cannot overstate the level of despair I feel when punters at gigs yell out for songs that the band have already played. At least you can drown those losers out when you start playing a (new) song. It must be a thousand times worse to be a stand-up comedian getting talked-over. For all that we supposedly live in a violent society, I’m amazed more people don’t turn to violence.