Dance like someone behind you is trying to watch

I went to Riverstage for the first time since 2009 and it was a real learning experience, writes Jill Poulsen.

Carefree young man having fun dancing

Walking over the Goodwill Bridge, my excitement builds when I see the lush surroundings that encase one of Brisbane’s finest jewels, the Riverstage.

My partner and I are about to enjoy our first gig since the arrival of our second child on a very rare night away from rocking the aforementioned 10-month-old to sleep before getting elbow-deep in a seemingly endless series of bedtime stories for a 3-year-old.

But tonight it’s Nanny’s turn to follow the whims of our tiny overlord, I mean son, you know how it goes.

Reading, followed by a solid 50 or so minutes of ‘Mummy/Daddy/Nanny I need: an ice pack, yoghurt, colder water, help because Humpty Dumpty’s hair needs to be brushed, to buy Gary the Ghost a birthday present’ ... and on and on.

Suffice to say, we were absolutely buzzing to be on our way for an adult night out, especially to see one of our absolute favourite bands: Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats.

We’d casually arrived at the Riverstage and made our way onto the grass, halfway down the hill, when things started to unravel a little bit.

Well, to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t so much ‘things’ as it was ‘me’ that started to unravel.

By the time the first act was over – Alex Lahey, 10/10, very good - I was in danger of being asked up on stage as a newly-minted Night Sweat.

The perspiration was absolutely pouring off me and the one, very hardworking outfit that hangs in my wardrobe’s “going out” section just couldn’t keep up with the moisture wicking required.

I started to look like I was going for a fairly average version of Katy Perry and her wet look.

The clamminess was only enhanced by a waterlogged piece of ground providing the exact right conditions for a community of mosquitoes to give my slippery limbs a good going-over.

But if you’re thinking that these minor inconveniences were dampening my spirits, pun intended, you’d be wrong.

It wasn’t until what I can only assume, based on their podiatrist-approved footwear, was a fellow group of exhausted parents started congregating at the back of the mosh pit, or more aptly described in this case as the spirited dancing pit, that I started to get my dander up.

It commenced with quiet muttering about not being able to see, before being buoyed by the nods of agreement by people near me, so I started loudly huffing and talking about how the standing section was clearly a few more metres ahead of us.

But like most people who like to quietly complain behind people’s backs rather than confront the source of our frustration, we’re easy to ignore.

Crowd enjoying a concert at the Riverstage Picture Supplied

So every time I shuffled, a new body would come and gently sway in front of me.

Now I can hear what you’re thinking – “Hey, it’s a rock concert, chill out man” – and in fact the last time I was there was in 2009 for the now-defunct Sunset Sounds festival I said exactly that to an extremely disgruntled man that I’d just tripped over while running to the front of the stage to watch Franz Ferdinand.

But I have to admit that since landing firmly in my Middle-Aged Crone Era, I see where he was coming from. Having my Havaiana thong land in his beer while I somersaulted over the top of him probably did make me a “frigging idiot”.

Anyway, by the time NRNS hit the stage I was watching them through the legs of a woman named Sarah, which sounds less than ideal, but I was one of the lucky ones – she had a wide gait and stayed virtually still. My neighbours had to put up with Lise or Lisa, it was hard to hear, who was up and down like a yo-yo, taking selfies, FaceTiming someone to discuss a topic completely unrelated to the band we were seeing and just generally carrying on like a pork chop.

But Middle-Aged-Crone gripes aside, to tell you the truth, it was still amazing. Whether you are busting your hump trekking out to Boondall or sitting comfortably in QPAC’s Concert Hall, seeing a band you love is an incredible gift.

But let’s tie a bow on that gift and agree on a few simple courtesies? Allow me to go first.

I propose this: You’re either dancing /standing at the front, or you’re sitting with the sitters.

There is no in between, no cake and eating it too, you’re in, or you’re out.

It’s like that inspirational quote, how does it go? Dance like somebody is trying to watch.

Originally published as Dance like someone behind you is trying to watch