There were so many things to love about this year’s Father’s Day Festival — Del McCoury and his amazing band, Edgar Loudermilk’s stunning drive on the bass, jamming with friends in camp, Molly Tuttle’s ethereal voice, High Country’s 50th anniversary show on Vern’s stage, consistently warm showers, the beautiful weather, and the loud conversation during one of Michael Cleveland’s fiddle breaks.
Oh wait. Not that last one. That one turns me from a generally nice person into a crazy woman.
Seriously folks, what’s up with that? Why is it that people need to talk at that very moment and can’t wait until the music stops, or at least find another place to hold conversations?
Case 1. I ask someone to be quieter, and he replies, “What do you expect? It’s a concert.” Um, right — a concert — the place I came to listen to musicians, not someone regaling his buddy with memories of the previous night’s performances.
Case 2. One loud talker eventually apologized, explaining that his friend was hard of hearing, so he had to talk loudly to be heard. Actually, there was another choice — wait until after the music to talk or go somewhere else.
Kids these days, right? What do you expect from millennials?
Wrong. Every instance was someone well old enough to know better.
I give the stink-eye. Then, I ask nicely. I hate shushing people. No one wants to shush people. But, we will if we have to. In the end, it comes down to respect.
- Respect for the other audience members, some who have scraped and saved to be able to see their favorite musicians. Others may have put in hours of volunteer work in exchange for a ticket. Is the need to chat in the audience more important than their desire to listen?
- Respect for the musicians, who have put in years of work to earn their place on the stage. They deserve our attention. Or, if someone decides that a band isn’t their cup of tea, they can always step out and do something they enjoy instead and let the rest of us listen without distraction.
Of course, it’s not just bluegrass festivals that suffer bad audience behavior. Recent articles talk about how audiences are destroying Broadway. For example, writer Kevin Williams, tired of listening to a woman talking on her phone during a play, grabbed it and threw it across the theater. Movie theaters have become more like bars than places to watch a film.
What baffles me is why someone pays good money to go talk to their friends at a concert. If their friends are like mine, they will talk to them for free–live musicians in the background not required.
Of course, all of us might, at some point, not realize our talking is disturbing others around us. Here’s a clue: if our spidey sense tells us someone is giving us the stink-eye, or if someone asks us to be quiet, it’s pretty clear we’re disturbing them. The best response is, “Sorry,” and then shutting up. It really is that easy.
Here’s the deal: when most of us go to concerts, it’s because of the performers on stage. That’s why they put the stage in front and all the chairs are facing it. In other words, we haven’t gone to listen to the talkers, we don’t care what they ate for lunch, what’s happening in their jobs, or how they nailed their mando breaks on “Jerusalem Ridge.”
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During Del McCoury’s closing set at the Father’s Day Festival, there wasn’t a peep out of anyone around, except for appropriate applause and cheers for one astonishing song after another. It was heavenly.
