Drive-in concerts sound like the worst
Drive-in concerts sound like the worst
Who wants to take their wheels to a gig? Not me.
Meeting a mate at a nearby bar. Heading to the venue and swapping banter with drunk fans in the queue. Getting the ticket ripped at the door. Sipping that first beer from the bar. Finding the perfect spot. The anticipation building as the house lights come down and the roar of the crowd builds to a crescendo.
I love everything about gigs. Literally, everything. I miss the merch tent. I miss the smokers outside. I miss the nerdy dude wearing the faded band tee from 2009. I miss the stage, the lights, the screens, and the solemn sound guys looking sternly at monitors. Holy hell I miss moshpits, those bacteria-riddled germ-fests full of rowdy strangers swapping spit.
I even miss the smell. Right now, I’d cut off a finger for one quick whiff of the third-day stench of a music festival portaloo.
Do you know what I don’t miss? My car. Not once have I been standing in the middle of a field, surrounded by people, staring at a stage, overwhelmed by music, and thought to myself: “You know what would make this better? If I was sitting in my beat up Toyota wagon listening to this on a shitty car stereo.”
That’s exactly the kind of situation being imagined for some gigs as Coronavirus forces the concert industry to reckon with social distancing norms.
Live Nation CEO Michael Rapino recently told Variety drive-in gigs would be part of a test phase being rolled out internationally as lockdowns ease and musicians head back out on the road.
In parts of the world, this is already happening. Danish singer-songwriter Mads Langer recently played a show to a stadium turned into parking lot. I’m not kidding: 500 cars filled with 2000 fans stretched as far back as the eye could see.
“I really felt like I was playing to the small rooms in the car,” Langer told NME.
Honestly, look at this photo. It’s so depressing.
I miss concerts as much, posssibly more, than the next person. The weekend that lockdown started, I was supposed to see Deftones play out in West Auckland with 5000 others. I have tickets to now-rescheduled Big Thief and Bon Iver gigs waiting to be used. I had plans to see Faith No More, Tame Impala, Stormzy, Offspring and Sum 41 (don’t judge me, Fatlip still slaps).
The only reason I make it through each winter is the thought of all those summer festivals I can go to once the shivering stops.
Without live music, the past six weeks have been torturous. I have spent most of that time trying to find a replacement for the feeling of a good gig. I have streamed full-length shows and livestreams on YouTube and Facebook, with variable results. I have watched all those Instagram DJ battles. That Coachella doco? Tried that. A Beastie Boys Story on Apple TV+? It’s good, but it’s just not the same.
They can’t replace the feeling of a live gig, because that feeling is irreplaceable. For that reason, drive-in shows are just plain silly. I’d rather wait another year to see bands in the proper environment than drive into an arena, sit in my car and watch someone on a stage four miles away play a show.
Or, as Dave Grohl put it so succinctly in The Atlantic yesterday: “I don’t know when it will be safe to return to singing arm in arm at the top of our lungs, hearts racing, bodies moving, souls bursting with life. But I do know that we will do it again, because we have to. It’s not a choice. We’re human. We need moments that reassure us that we are not alone. That we are understood. That we are imperfect. And, most important, that we need each other.”
They’re perfect words for an imperfect time. I can’t wait to jump around at the front of a stage again. But I refuse to attempt to do it in my car.
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