Monday, February 19, 2007

At this stage

Stages are funny things. Half often all that separates a crowd from a band is the implicit agreement of territories and a step in the right direction. And all them wires. These strips are more like skid marks, they’re so small and dingy. But maybe we like it like that.

The Armchair's slit of stage is so slight that musicians often enter through the crowd. It works for this soundbar. It’s that ultra easy, instantly accessible cool that makes the Armchair the seat of underground sound. That, and the grimey carpets and the sink-into, neverwashed sofas. Our scene might be small, but it’s dirty.

I feel sorry for cramped musicians. The brawling, adoring masses (well, um.) get all the space to bump shoulders and break bread and bones together (think Half Price). They’d no doubt rather be doing it with the stars admirably shaking their asses and venting their catharses in their individual square metres of space, plugged and wired. But they can’t because Air guitars make crap music.

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