I went to Skrillex. I loved it. (I am 45 years old.)
I went to Skrillex. I loved it. (I am 45 years old.)
Here's what happens when you're too old for a music festival but you go anyway.
If you go to a Skrillex show and you are 45 years old, the following is a thing that might happen to you. I know this, because last night, it happened to me.
A complete stranger may spot you from the middle of the moshpit, fight their way to you through the heaving masses, then greet you like a long lost friend with an outstretched hand and a warm embrace.
That same person may then lean in and yell, in full earshot of those around you, the question: “How old are you, brother?”
When you tell them you’re standing on a piece of tarmac in South Auckland waiting for Skrillex to come on stage at the ripe old age of 45, they may then reply: “Phwoar, you still look pretty good.”
Yes, at Mt Smart Stadium, now called Go Media Stadium, the home of the Warriors, and the former home of the Big Day Out for 20 years, where the Listen In music festival was taking place on a Sunday night, this exchange really did happen.
As I sit here nursing a sore back and tight calves early on a chilly Monday morning at home, I’m still unpacking it.
Was this a compliment? A diss? A statement of wonder from someone not sure if they’ll be so stupid as to attend a music festival aimed at the late teens/early 20s market when they’re in an age group that demands dadding and dental plans?
I’m not sure of the answer to that one. I did have some inkling of what I was in for when the British rapper ArrDee asked the crowd if they were “white-boy wasted” earlier in the day, and everyone cheered. (I don’t want to guess at what “white-boy wasted” might mean, and I’m certainly not Googling it to find out.)
There was also a sign when Ice Spice performed for 15 minutes and there wasn’t a single complaint from anyone. Yes, the Bronx rapper came all the way to Aotearoa to play for a full 15 minutes. (It was a good 15 minutes, but, like, damn, that’s not even an episode of The Office.)
The fact that queues for Listen In’s food stalls remained pretty free for most of the day, while the bars did a roaring trade, was also a sign that I was at a very different music festival to those that I usually go to these days. Kids these days, eh? They just don’t know how to pace themselves. (Or dress: most seemed to think they were at Coachella; it never got over 12 degrees.)
But look, it was Skrillex, Four Tet, Marc Rebillet, JPEGMAFIA Ice Spice and Coi Leray all in the same place at the same time. I haven’t been to a big, proper, multi-stage music festival since the beginning of 2020, the before times. To say I was desperate was an understatement. I was absolutely fucking giddy at the thought of it.
And so, on an overcast, drizzly day in Auckland, that’s how I found myself trudging out to a South Auckland stadium and standing in a car park in the rain discussing my age with a stranger in the middle of a moshpit.
Skrillex set the stage on fire
I’m not joking. This isn’t hyperbole. It really happened. About 15 minutes into the headliner’s show, embers began raining down on the front rows. Skrillex stopped dubstepping and warned the front rows to step back as very visible flames spread across the lighting rig above him. It was, quite literally, raining fire for about five minutes.
People thought this was hilarious. Some suggested it’s part of a Skrillex show now. (I have been pointed to his Primavera set, where the exact same thing happened. If so, that seems like a dangerous stunt to repeatedly pull off. But it’s kind of fitting.)
Look, I’m not here to defend Skrillex. I know what you think. I know the accusations. He makes music for Michael Bay movies. He ruined dubstep. His songs sound like Transformers fucking in the bushes. It is unhinged barrel-scraping mania, the stuff UFC fighters probably listen to over their protein shake breakfasts.
I get it. I understand.
But something about his music hits a part of my brain that makes me go ‘ahh’. Somehow, Skrillex has found a direct path to my orbitofrontal cortex. Last night did not disappoint: sirens wailed, robotic clanks escalated, lasers scanned the crowd, pyro erupted, smoke steamed and fireworks lit up the night sky. Also, the stage nearly burned down. I grinned the entire night. I am still grinning now.
Listen In was worth the $160 ticket price. It was worth the awful food. It was worth the $105 taxi ride home. And yes, it was totally worth an awkward moshpit conversation with a stranger about my age. I am 45 years old, and I very much enjoyed last night’s Skrillex show. This is the last time I will ever discuss this.
Thanks for reading. This is a free edition of Boiler Room. If you liked it, please consider becoming a paying member so I can do more of them. I’ve kept prices low so you can go to Skrillex shows too, if you want to.