Nathan Davies: Bit of shoosh! Can we stop talking through gigs, please?
One of our most important singer-songwriters battled illness to give a Womadelaide performance to remember. Still, some idiots chatted all the way through it. Where’s the respect?
Opinion
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On stage was one of the most important singer-songwriters in Australian musical history.
A man who did more – with one beautifully written song – to shine a light on the terrible injustices suffered by the Stolen Generation than any politician or activist ever did.
A sick man who arrived on stage in a wheelchair, breathing with the help of an oxygen bottle, determined to perform in a city he loves, the city whose streets he slept on when he was at rock bottom, the city where he met the love of his life whose big heart saved him.
And while Archie Roach sang on the Womadelaide stage, the two men in front of me talked. And talked. And showed each other Instagram posts, and read an email about “policy” and then talked some more.
Every time they cracked a joke they’d high-five one another like the jocks from Revenge of the Nerds, freebie “GUEST” wrist bands glinting in the beautiful Adelaide afternoon sun.
When they realised their drinks were empty they headed for the bar and the simmering rage I was feeling was tempered a little – until they came back with another drink under their belt and ramped up their “meeting”.
I wanted to grab their Ralph Lauren caps and boat shoes and throw them over the fence and yell “hey, shut up and you just might learn something!”, but my conflict-averse 13-year-old son convinced me that would be a bad idea.
In front of them, well-known people who earn their living on North Terrace did exactly the same thing.
Reviewing live music is the great privilege of this job, and I never take it for granted.
But if there’s any downside to the privilege it’s that you’re often seated amongst “guests” of the concert or festival who haven’t paid for their tickets and who may or may not have indulged in some complimentary “refreshments”.
They’ve never heard Roach’s remarkable debut record Charcoal Lane, and they’re oblivious to the music of Lior and Sarah Blasko (to use an example from Friday night), except for that one song that they used to play on the radio that was pretty good and deserves a “woo!” and a half-hearted acknowledgment.
Perhaps even more confounding than the freebie crowd chatting over quiet artists are the people who actually paid hard-earned cash for their tickets and still spend the whole night chatting. That’s rude AND a waste of money.
Look, I love a rowdy rock show, a night on the sticky carpet where punters clutch beer and yell witty heckles at the musicians on stage and everything gets a bit loose. Love it.
But when an artist is baring their soul, pouring out their heart, telling a story, does it hurt to stay quiet, just for a little while?
It shows respect for the performer and, importantly, shows respect for the people around you.
And if you want to have a conversation, fine, it’s a free country. Just do it down the back, at the bar, out of earshot.